Lure of Oblivion (Mercury Pack Book 3) Page 9

Ten minutes later, Zander stood near the front door with Bracken and Marlon as Gwen came jogging down the stairs. His cock instantly hardened at the sight of her smooth, bare legs. He gave her a severe frown, blocking her path to the door. “You need to put on some jeans.” He didn’t care how it sounded, didn’t care that it would hint at just how attracted he was to her.

  Her brows lifted. “Sorry?”

  “You need to cover up those legs.”

  Gwen blinked, unsure if she should be offended or not. “Why, what’s wrong with them?”

  Forcing his jaw to unclench, Zander said, “You can’t tell me you haven’t noticed how much people stare at them.”

  Actually, she didn’t recall people paying much attention to them. “They’re just legs.”

  Marlon chuckled. “They’re lethal. I’ve seen people bump into shit because they’re so busy looking at your legs.”

  She shook her head. “Whatever.”

  Zander stepped into her personal space. “Let me ask you a question: Are your tips better when you wear shorts like those?” Her expression answered that question for him, and he watched realization dawn on her face, quickly followed by disbelief. “Cover them up.”

  Gwen looked at him, lost. “Why?”

  “We just established why,” he clipped. “People stare at your legs. I don’t want them staring at your legs.”

  “Because . . . ?”

  “I just don’t.”

  Given that he was gay, Gwen had no idea what his issue could possibly be. “You’re being weird. I don’t have time for weird.” With that, she brushed past him and strode out of the house, shouting a farewell to Marlon.

  Bracken beat her to the car, an amused grin on his face, and opened the rear door for her. Then he hopped into the passenger side just as Zander slid into the driver’s seat. They rode in silence . . . until Bracken starting chuckling. Zander shot him a dark look, but the other wolf just kept on laughing to himself.

  “I’m not finding anything fucking amusing,” Zander growled, but Bracken just laughed harder.

  Soon enough, they arrived at Half ’n’ Half. As they exited the SUV, Gwen noticed Brandt standing on the other side of the parking lot with his friends. He glared right at her, but that glare morphed into a confused frown as he looked at Zander and Bracken.

  “That Brandt?” Zander asked.

  “Yep,” she replied. “Don’t approach him. Even if you handed his ass to him, he’d be smug because he’d managed to cause a scene outside my place of work.”

  It went against Zander’s nature not to act, but he knew that if he didn’t respect her wishes, she’d insist that he not come with her in the future. He wanted her to trust him. So he contented himself with doing as his wolf had done—he merely tossed a snarl at the human.

  Inside Half ’n’ Half, Zander claimed the same booth as last time. After taking their orders, Gwen disappeared. Wearing a knowing smirk, Bracken made a show of ogling her as she walked away, which nearly got Zander’s fist planted in his face.

  “On the one hand, Z, I’m glad she didn’t listen to you and cover up. On the other hand, a part of me doesn’t like that every guy here will be imagining having those legs wrapped around his waist while he—”

  “Don’t,” Zander bit out. He really didn’t want to hit his friend.

  “I should have seen this coming. Physically, she’s not your type. But she has the other qualities you go for. She’s smart. Confident. Capable. Stubborn enough to deal with you and your bullshit.” Putting down his beer, Bracken sobered. “On a serious note, don’t act on whatever you’re feeling. She’s got a shitload of stuff going on right now. I don’t think she’s got time for someone who is awful at being part of a couple even when the relationship isn’t serious.

  “Don’t get me wrong, Z, there’s nothing I’d like more than for you to let someone in your life. You’ve been on your own too long, and you’re getting too used to it—and yeah, your wolf’s partially to blame for that. But this would be a really bad time to do anything about it.”

  Honest with himself about his limitations, Zander could admit that he’d never been good at relationships. It wasn’t just because his wolf fought him so hard. The simple truth was that he’d never found relationships fulfilling. Probably because he typically didn’t connect with people.

  “So, we’re agreed that you’ll just content yourself with staring at her legs?”

  Zander sighed. “Are we really having this conversation?”

  “It would seem so.”

  “Well, it’s ending. Now.”

  “Fine.” Bracken took another swig of his beer and stood. “I’ll be five minutes. I need to—”

  “I really don’t want to know what you’ll be doing in the restroom, Brack.” Ignoring his pack mate’s chuckle, Zander chugged down more of his own beer. That was when he scented Gwen approaching, and his wolf retreated again.

  Gwen set two plates of food on the table. “Here. Enjoy.” She was about to walk away, but then a large hand rested on her leg. She froze, watching as Zander used his thumb to scoop a little red sauce from her thigh. She had no idea why the movement seemed almost . . . sensual.

  “You had something on your leg,” he told her. “Of course, if you’d been wearing jeans . . .”

  “Are we still on that?” she snapped, impatient.

  “Yeah, we are.”

  Gwen stifled a smile at his hard tone. “Hmm. I see.”

  “See what?”

  “You’re one of those people.”

  “What people?”

  “You can’t let it go when you don’t get your own way. You can’t just chuck shit in the ‘Fuck It’ bucket and get on with your day.”

  His mouth curved, and he shrugged one shoulder. “I like to get my own way.”

  Well, Gwen could see that. She could also see that although he sat alone, he didn’t look alone. Maybe because he dominated his space so completely. He appeared at ease with his own company, not lost or lonely the way many pack animals did. “I realize that shifters are tactile, but could you move your hand?”

  “You don’t need to be so uneasy. I won’t bite. Yet.”

  “Whatever,” she scoffed, going for aloof. He slowly removed his hand and then licked the sauce from his thumb, holding her eyes the entire time. She swallowed hard. “Enjoy your meal.”

  “I will.” Zander’s eyes followed her as she walked away, only shifting from her when Bracken returned and blocked his view.

  Immediately, Bracken dug into his food. “Damn, this is good. I wish we could take the chef home.”

  The door swung open, and in walked a male who, going by his uniform, was the sheriff—the same male who’d been standing on Gwen’s porch when he and Bracken first arrived at the B&B.

  Zander noted that none of the patrons greeted the sheriff warmly. They either gave him a simple nod or avoided his gaze. Most of them sneered at his back. It seemed that the guy wasn’t well respected at all. Maybe if he wasn’t looking down his nose at everyone, it would be different.

  Zander tensed when the sheriff made a beeline for Gwen. Spotting him, she simply greeted, “Sheriff.” There wasn’t an ounce of respect in the title, which was probably why the human narrowed his eyes.

  “I heard two strangers are hanging around you.” The sheriff adjusted his gun belt. “Yvonne said they’re wolf shifters. They’re staying at the B&B for a while, and they’ve offered to help with the Brandt situation.” Suspicion laced every word.

  Zander suspected that Brandt had contacted the sheriff, which led him to then call Yvonne. She’d probably told the sheriff they were shifters in the hope that it would scare him and the Moores.

  Gwen nodded. “Yep.”

  “What do they want in return? No shifter does something for nothing.”

  That was true for the most part, thought Zander.

  “They never asked for anything,” said Gwen. “Some people actually help those who are being wrongly persecuted. A novel thing for
you, Colt, I’m sure.”

  A muscle in Colt’s cheek ticked. “Are you paying them?”

  “Mostly with sex,” she said, deadpan. “Turns out shifters are fond of threesomes.”

  The sheriff’s lips thinned. “Don’t be crude, Gwen. Why would they help you?”

  “Ask them. They’re over there.” She gestured at their booth.

  “Sheriff’s on his way over,” Zander said only loud enough for Bracken to hear.

  “Yeah, I heard him and Gwen talking.” Bracken’s response wasn’t surprising. No matter how absorbed he was by something, the enforcer wolf was always aware of his surroundings.

  The sheriff arrived at their booth, planting his feet. “I’m the sheriff here.” Like that was some sort of achievement. The noise level of the entire place lowered as people subtly tried to eavesdrop.

  Zander’s wolf took an instant dislike to him and stalked forward, teeth bared.

  With a fry, Bracken gestured at himself. “I’m Bracken. This is Zander.”

  The sheriff’s mouth twisted. “Where are you from?”

  “California,” Bracken replied.

  “I see. What pack?”

  “The Mercury Pack.”

  The human adjusted his hat. “So, you’ll be staying until the Brandt situation is resolved.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Sadly for you, I don’t approve of that.” His eyes narrowed as they danced from Bracken to Zander. “Not because you’re shifters, but because this situation is already heated—I want things to calm down, not worsen. Shifters aren’t known to be diplomatic. You’ll just aggravate the entire situation.”

  Zander leaned back in the booth. “Sadly for you, your disapproval means nothing to us.”

  “Not a thing,” confirmed Bracken.

  The sheriff’s eyes tightened. “It should, considering what position I hold in this town. I could have you thrown out.”

  “You could try,” said Zander. “It won’t work out well for you.”

  Bracken’s mouth curled. “I’m kind of hoping he does try, Z. My wolf’s itching for some action. We should probably cut this guy some slack though, right? I mean, he must be under a lot of pressure right now. He has those Moore people bugging him to side with them.”

  “Yeah, Brack, you’re right. If he had even a little of Gwen’s strength, he might just be able to pull his head out of his ass and stand up to the pricks.” Zander tilted his head, staring at the sheriff. “I guess you’re one of those ‘If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em’ guys, right?”

  His face flushed. Eyes hard, he cast them each a menacing glare. “I want you both out of my town by tomorrow morning.”

  “And I want you to keep the Moores away from Gwen.” Zander shrugged. “We don’t always get what we want, do we? There’s no sense in pushing this. We don’t answer to your laws. That shiny badge means nothing to me.”

  For a long, tense moment, the human just glared at them, face like a thunderstorm. Then he crossed to the door and wrenched it open, yanking out his cell phone as he did so. Zander noticed that many of the patrons smirked, happy to see their sheriff’s butt shot down.

  “He’s no doubt calling the Moores,” said Bracken.

  Gwen’s scent slid over Zander moments before she appeared—and, predictably, Zander’s wolf annoyingly retreated again. Sighing, she scratched her nape. “That was pretty much how I expected things to go.”

  “He’s not going to make us leave,” Zander told her, but she didn’t look convinced. As she moved to leave, he grabbed her hand. “Hey, we’re not going anywhere.”

  “Good,” she said, but she still didn’t seem entirely certain of that.

  CHAPTER SIX

  At the end of Gwen’s shift, Zander drove her home with Bracken riding shotgun again. Back at the B&B, they all parted ways, and Zander went straight to his room. He made himself a coffee and sat on the balcony, but he couldn’t relax. He felt irritable and restless. The same tension rode his wolf, who paced within him, feeding Zander’s edginess.

  He closed his eyes, seeking calm and peace. He concentrated on the feel of the light breeze on his skin and the sounds of the crickets and—

  “Zander.” The floaty whisper was accompanied by the brush of fingers across his forehead.

  Eyes snapping open, he jumped to his feet. No one. Like last time, there was no one there. And, just like last time, he didn’t feel alone.

  Deciding to go for a run—no, he wasn’t freaked out and fleeing from nothing—Zander headed downstairs. But he didn’t go to the front door. No, he stalked into the kitchen as a familiar scent caught his attention. And there she was, cleaning the coffee maker.

  Tense now for a totally different reason, his wolf withdrew. Well, at least he’d stopped pacing.

  Somehow sensing she wasn’t alone, she looked over her shoulder. “Hey.”

  Zander planted a hand on either side of the doorjamb. “Hey.”

  “Going for a run or something?”

  “Yes.” He looked at the now–immaculately clean coffee machine. “Do you ever do anything but work?”

  Brow furrowing, she turned to fully face him. “Sure. I was just cleaning up after myself.”

  “What do you do when you’re not working?”

  Gwen gave a little shrug. “Stuff.”

  “What sort of stuff?”

  “Just stuff.”

  “Like what?” he persisted.

  Gwen tensed as he walked farther into the room. His gaze was locked on hers, searching her eyes for . . . something. She didn’t like it. He looked too hard, watched her too carefully. And her mouth dried up under the scrutiny of those brooding winter-gray eyes.

  Even with all that distance between them, she felt overwhelmingly aware of him. Her stomach knotted at the vision of him standing there, head up, chest out, feet wide apart. That powerful, authoritative stance totally revved her engines.

  She didn’t want to react to this guy she had no chance of having. But he was the living embodiment of raw sex appeal, and she was apparently helpless against it. Need churned in her stomach, her blood thickened, and her nipples beaded.

  “Tell me,” he coaxed.

  “You wouldn’t get it. You’re a shifter; you guys are all about action.” And she’d sound utterly dull to him, which wasn’t on her agenda.

  “Maybe I would. Tell me.”

  Fine, it wasn’t like she had to impress him. “I just like to sit outside. Sometimes on the porch. Sometimes on the swing. Sometimes on my balcony. I find peace in just sitting around, soaking in the view and the quiet, and admiring the wildlife. Not thinking, not talking, not listening to trivial conversation, just being. That will no doubt seem boring to you, but—”

  “It doesn’t. When I’m on pack territory, I like to sit on my porch and just be alone. It’s not that I need time to reflect and meditate or some shit like that. Sitting back, listening to sounds of nature, is a good way for me to wind down.” When he was alone, he could relax and recharge. You didn’t get much time alone when you were part of a pack, though.

  Zander’s eyes involuntarily dropped to her mouth. How hadn’t he noticed how lush it was before now? He couldn’t help picturing her on her knees as he wrapped her braid around his fist and fed her his cock. “Do you like working here and at Half ’n’ Half, or do you just do it to support your family?”

  She tilted her head. “You’re pretty nosy, aren’t you?”

  “Only when something interests me.”

  Gwen did a double take. “I interest you?” It came out a skeptical statement.

  “Yeah.”

  Bullshit. She narrowed her eyes. “What do you want?” He had to be sweetening her up to get something.

  Zander’s lips twitched. “So suspicious. I thought we were just talking.”

  “No, you were quizzing me.”

  “Go ahead and ask me a question.”

  She lifted her chin. “All right. I always wondered . . . You don’t have to answer
if it’s personal, but . . . does it hurt to shift?”

  “A little, but not enough to matter.”

  “Do you have to do it, like, daily?”

  “I don’t have to, but it’s good to let my wolf free often, especially when he’s somewhere new—he needs to know the territory to feel secure.” Zander closed some of the distance between them in two slow strides. “My wolf likes it here; he likes the marsh.” She smiled at that. Not a distantly polite smile—a real, genuine smile that lit up her face and should have knocked him on his ass. How had he ever thought her anything close to plain? She was stunning.

  “I’ve always loved the marshland,” she said. “It’s peaceful. Lots to see and do.”

  “I guess you’ve explored every inch of it over the years.”

  “To Yvonne’s consternation, yes.”

  “Maybe you can give me a tour.” He’d seen boats at the dock.

  “It’s mostly Marlon who gives tours,” she said, smile slipping from genuine to professional as she seemed to subconsciously adopt her receptionist tone. “We hold them on Mondays, Wednesdays—”

  “Don’t do that.”

  A line formed between her brows. “What?”

  Zander prowled toward her, backing her against the fridge. “I don’t want to talk to Gwen the receptionist. I want to talk to you.” But she looked like she had no idea what he meant.

  As he pulled the tie out of her hair and began loosening her braid, Gwen tried jerking away. He didn’t even seem to notice. Shit, she really needed him to back up. She didn’t want him to sense how fiercely her body reacted to him. “What are you doing?” And why wasn’t she slapping him or something?

  “You always braid it.”

  She frowned at the softly spoken complaint. “Is playing with people’s hair something you do often?”

  “No.” Zander slid his fingers through the glossy cinnamon-brown curtain of silk. He almost moaned. It felt decadently soft against his skin, sending little electric shocks to his nerve endings. He expected his wolf to pull his usual shit and snarl at Zander for paying such attention to a female. This time, the wolf stayed in his hidey hole. The beast didn’t seem happy with the situation, but he’d apparently decided to stay out of it.