Blue Moon Brides: The Complete Series (39 page)

“Where did Ameline stay?”

He’d connected the dots.

“The private house,” she admitted. “She had an ex who didn’t know how to take no for an answer. He kept coming for her and she was afraid. So we gave her some space to lie low while we figured out where she could go permanently. She was talking about moving to Baton Rouge. She had a girlfriend there who has a salon and needs a receptionist. Another week and she’d have been out of here.”

He gently slipped his fingers free, resting them on her thigh. “Life, she has a dark side,
oui
?”

Or perhaps life was completely schizo, with more dark sides than she had books back at her place.

“Bad shit happens in the bayou,” he continued. “Good stuff too.”

He’d decided to go all philosophical on her now? Wow. That was just her luck. She wanted to forget. He wanted to reminisce and rehash.

~*~

Riley leaned her head back against his shoulder and stared up at him, not blinking. Dag wished he could tell what she was thinking. There had to be a million thoughts going on behind her pretty brown eyes. The golden rims of her irises made him think of wolf eyes—one more sign she belonged with him. Or that he was grasping at straws.

The possibility she might not stay made him want to pull her into his arms, push her down into the mattress and take her hard. Like the animal he was, because watching her accept Luc intimately had been one hell of a turn-on. His Riley had liked her taste of the wicked too. He could smell her, feel her dampness on his fingers. Shit. He wanted to push three fingers into her snug channel until she was riding him hard and yelling out his name.

Luc had said he should talk to her.

Words, not sex.

Or, words and then sex.

He could do that.

Right now, she looked like she was gearing up for an argument with him. His wolf pricked up its ears in anticipation. Make up sex was good too. When she tried to shift off his lap, he tightened his hold on her. He wasn’t letting her go. Not now. Not ever.

“Of course, bad shit happens everywhere, but this is right in my backyard and I’ll do my damnedest to stop it. You know what I used to do for a living, when I was fresh out of high school?”

She didn’t look much over eighteen now, despite the pink flushing her face and the tousled mane of hair. He fisted the long length in his hands, bringing to his nose and breathing her scent in. Yeah. He pretty much loved everything about her.

“I joined the Army,” she said, when he didn’t answer. “I pulled a three year duty assignment and did a year overseas before shipping back stateside. I learned lots on those bases.”

Imagining her as a soldier wasn’t difficult. He’d known she was a fighter and a warrior at heart and she certainly went toe-to-toe with him every chance she got.  She was perfect for the Pack but even better, maybe she wouldn’t mind him. He was a fighter and a tracker. He lived hard and got his hands dirty more than anyone. Maybe she’d welcome his kind of strength, rather than run scared from it.

“I may not do the protect-and-defend for Uncle Sam anymore, but that doesn’t mean I can’t stick up for what’s right. I’m just doing it on my own terms. The women in the safe house are my responsibility. If you’re trying to tell me there’s a vamp headed for them, I want it straight.”

He could do that. “I think there’s a vamp hunting your girls.”

“What can I do to stop it?” she demanded. “You tell me what you know now, Dag Breaux.”

She didn’t get it. “You don’ got to go makin’ demands.” He’d give her whatever she wanted. He was hers every bit as much as she was his. If she had a fight, he had a fight. “All you got to do is ask,” he continued.

“Ask you for help?” She twisted around to watch him and she sure didn’t look like he was number one on her call list. No, the expression on her face said he was dead last, if he’d made the list at all.

He ran a finger down her nose. “Uh-huh.”

She shook her head. “Is this another one of your games?”

“I’ll play with you all you wan’,
boo
, but I meant what I said. You need my help, all you got to do is ask and I’m there.”

“I’m going back to town.” Riley took stock of her options while she wiggled out of Dag’s hold. He was sex on a stick, but she couldn’t lie around in bed with him if her girls were in any kind of danger. She’d just have to table that anticipation and arousal. She had a feeling Dag would give her a rain check.

If she could get away from him.

“Not by yourself,” he said calmly, folding his arms over his chest and leaning back against the headboard. He didn’t seem worried he no longer had her tied up. Or that she’d put a whole foot of empty space between them.

“Right,” she agreed. “Because you’re stopping me. I already got that memo.”

“
Boo
,” he drawled, “I’m not stoppin’ you. I’m goin’ with you. There’s fifteen good feet between you and the door and we both know you’re not as fast as me.”

“Because you’re part wolf and I’m not.” This, she thought, was almost fun. He didn’t know all the secrets she’d been keeping and, while she’d hoped to keep this one from him, now was clearly the time to play her hand.

“Sure,
boo
.” He gave her a small smile that tugged on something in her chest. “So come on back here and we’ll finish out discussion. I won’ make sayin’
please
hard.”

“I’m going to buy you a dictionary.” She swung her legs over the bed and stood up. Bonus points for her that her legs held, because there was denying her physical response to this man. He made her weak-kneed, no getting around it. “A discuss involves two people, Dag. It also requires some back-and-forth, and all I’m hearing are pronouncements. That doesn’t count.”

She hauled the T-shirt over her head. Her next step would go quicker if she was naked.

He sucked in a hard breath. “You’re not playin’ fair.”

She wasn’t, but he had no idea. “There’s something you should know about me.”

“I’m listenin’.” Tension radiated from his body, despite his relaxed posed.

“One, I don’t take orders.”

“But you like to count.” He actually grinned. “I’ll remember that.”

“Two,” she said, ignoring him. “You’re right. You’re faster when you’re a wolf and I’m not. So—” she flashed him her own grin—“I’m leveling the playing field.”

He’d had his warning.

She shifted.

~*~

Holy. Christ.

One minute, he was ogling Riley Jones because she had the most perfect pair of breasts he’d ever seen, deciding where he’d kiss her first, and the next minute…

He was watching a small white fox dash across the room and nose open the door. He should have got up and flipped the latch. The thought crossed his mind, but the rest of him stood there stunned. Riley Jones was a shifter.

Her fox was petite, like the woman, prancing away from him on delicate legs and the prettiest, softest puff of white fur. He wanted to run his fingers through her pelt and find out if it was every bit as soft as it looked. The white fox had round sides, short ears, and a pair of liquid, dark eyes that
did
things to him. He was fairly certain white foxes had no business running around the bayou, but he was no fucking biologist.

Hell.

He’d had no idea.

She’d been right, though. This changed the game.

The white fox turned her head and looked at him as she slipped through the door. Yeah, he’d swear she was laughing at him. Riley had a wicked sense of humor, which was just one more thing he liked about her.

And he was sitting here on the bed, watching her go.

Damn it.

He came off the bed with a growl, shoving his jeans down his legs. He had a feeling she’d be a damned fast runner in this form. It explained plenty too. Why she’d healed so quickly and how she’d known Luc was a shifter. Like apparently called to like and his Riley had more than few lupine traits up her sleeve.

He straight-armed the door open, bare feet slapping against the deck and threw himself over the side, shifting as he went airborne. His paws hit the water, sending up spray, and her tail disappeared into the underbrush.

He wasn’t losing her now. Paws beating hard against the ground, nose to the ground, he picked her up her trail in seconds. The wolf loved this game. This courtship ritual was exactly what his beast understood. Deep inside the wolf, the man wondered if Riley Jones understood what she’d started. She called to his wolf on the most primitive of levels and both man and beast answered.

The breeze carried her scent, a spice that was musky and feminine, yet quintessentially Riley. Ten minutes into their run, the wolf stopped, eyes and ears pointing. Then tore after her with a long, low bay to let her know he was coming for her. She could run, but she wasn’t getting away. Not tonight.

Eventually, he caught his next glimpse of her. She’d crossed a shallow patch of bayou water, but she was upwind of him and the early morning breeze gave away her position. He inhaled, turned his head, and
there she was
.

Her fox running was a thing of beauty, furred paws eating up the bank in small, graceful strides, her head turning left then right as she swept the bank watching for threats. She put on a burst of speed, every bit as fast as he’d feared, but he had her in his sights now and he was bigger and stronger. The man laughed. He might not be smarter, but he damned sure could outrun her. That was good to know, because he had a feeling she’d lead him on hundreds of chases in the years to come.

Her sides heaved with the effort of staying ahead of him. Winded, she stopped for a minute, clearly considering her next steps. Had she really planned on heading back to town in her fox form? He wouldn’t put it past her. Now, he slipped towards her, moving stealthily. His
boo
wouldn’t see him coming. The closer he got, the faster he moved, staring her down.

Hell, yeah. The wolf loved chase. So did the man. He hadn’t played in years but if she wanted to play with him, he’d play. Play was wolf courting ritual and a sensual turn-on. So catching her too soon wasn’t part of his plan.

He burst from the bushes in rush of speed. She froze and, for a moment, he thought she wouldn’t run. Then, thank Christ, she did. His wolf responded, chasing her. Four long strides and he brought her down. His paws on her shoulders pushed as his body slammed into hers. They rolled in a tangle of fur and legs, growling and nipping, and Christ, he loved this. Loved her.

The wolf blinked as the man froze, considering the implications of
that
thought. She wriggled beneath him and he tucked the emotion away to examine later.

It was over quickly. He outweighed her four to one and she’d never had a chance. His wolf pinned her, howling victoriously.

~*~

She had no idea what she’d been thinking when she ran.

No.

She had.

Part of her had simply wanted to get back to town and get on with her life and protecting her girls. The other part of her—particularly the southern parts—had wanted to see exactly how far she could push her wolf.

The wolf pinning her was bigger. Almost feral in its intensity, her pursuer was definitely stronger than her fox. Even meaner, maybe. Dag was inside somewhere, though, so she needed to do some choosing. He’d made it clear he wanted to get close. Did she let him? He probably wasn’t thinking about the future of their relationship—she was fairly certain he had sex on his mind—but he also believed their relationship was a done deal. For him, she was his one-and-only mate.

But she didn’t know if she was ready for that kind of commitment, even if she was ready to do some exploring. Strangely, Dag was exactly the kind of man she could imagine spending the rest of her life with. He was strong and stubborn with a bedrock core of honor that lit her up in ways far beyond the sexual.

She had a feeling what she wanted was him.

She shifted.

She looked up at him. The big ass wolf pressing down on her was one part scary as hell, one part Dag. Deliberately, she turned her head to the side, baring her throat. He’d get the message.

Sure enough, he shifted. One minute, he was all wolf and the next the man weighed her down, still heavy as hell.

And naked.

God, he was naked and so was she. His position pressed his dick against her mound, so there was no missing just how much their run through the bayou had aroused him.

“You’re a shifter,” he growled. He threaded the fingers of one hand through both of hers, drawing her hands up over her head. She had a feeling she was about to pay the price for her run, which ratcheted her arousal up another notch. Dag liked to dominate. No, scratch that. He
needed
to dominate and she’d challenged him. He’d be all about the payback now.

And she couldn’t wait.

“Surprise?”

“Yeah.”

“You don’ think you should have shared that?”

Not at all. “Single white shifter looking for hot wolf?”

He shook his head. “
Boo
, you don’ wan’ to keep pushin’ me.”

“Or?” She was pretty sure she didn’t know how not to push.

“I caught you.” He had and he sounded damned satisfied with himself. “Twice now. Guess you really are mine, seein’ as how you’re a wolf and all.”

“Fox.” She was absolutely not a wolf. He needed to get his names straight.

“Hell.” He stared at her. “Really? You’re practically tame.”

“Am not.” Sure, too many of the foxes in this country were the results of breeding experiments because some people wanted a furry companion. She wasn’t aggressive. Sometimes she even liked people. She’d learned to live with who she was, but she’d never advertised her shifter side. That was between her and her family.

The family was the issue.

Arctic foxes were family-oriented to the bone. Her kind liked to stay together, entire families and multiple generations living together. Hell, even her brothers still lived together with her parents. They were already making noises about finding mates of their own and breeding.

She didn’t want that.

She really, really didn’t. Plus, there was the whole cross-species thing. She had a feeling her mother would frown on bringing a wolf home for dinner. But the sex… yeah, sex with Dag Breaux was definitely something she wanted to do again.

And again.

No. Bad libido. “I think we need to do some talking. Get to know each other.”

He nodded slowly. “You wan’ to date.”

He adjusted his hips, sliding his dick between the thick outer folds of her pussy and sending bright sparks of pleasure dancing through her body. Oh, God. If they were dating, he’d be hitting a homerun.

“That’s not what you want?” She ignored the little pang of disappointment. Maybe
mate
didn’t mean what she thought it did. After all, it had been months since she’d dates and maybe a year since she’d bothered going to bed with a guy. None of the men she’d met had been interesting. None of them had set her pulse to pounding or made her want to moan like crazy.

Dag did.

He leaned into her, giving her more of her weight, and nipped her ear sharply. God, he was no gentleman. He was barely civilized and yet her pussy wept for him, so slick and wet she knew he could smell her arousal.

“I’ve never dated,” he admitted casually, like she’d asked him whether he preferred beer and wine.

Shock was a visceral punch. “No way,” she got out. “You’ve got to be pushing thirty, Dag Breaux, and you’re telling me you’ve never taken a girl out?”

“On a date?” He shook his head. “Couldn’t be bothered. I’m a wee bit more than thirty,
boo
. I don’ know what kind of shifter you are, but my kind, we live a long time, centuries even if things don’ end badly. I wasn’t much for countin’ at the beginnin’, but I’m goin’ on three hundred now.”

Holy. Hell. He was a three hundred year old werewolf? No wonder his attitude was so medieval. He’d come by it honestly. “That explains the chest thumping,” she said weakly.

“And I’m not sayin’ I’ve never taken another female,” he said, his expression intense. “I’ll always be honest with you. I’ve had women in my bed, sure, but none of them meant more than pleasure. I’ve never dated any of them.”

“Or asked them to be your mate?”

“I don’ recall
askin’
.” His mouth found the side of her neck and she shivered. He knew all her weak points.

“Yeah,” she whispered. “There was a whole lot of telling.”

“If I asked, what would you say?”

She didn’t know. She wanted to say
yes
. But Dag Breaux wouldn’t be an easy keeper. He didn’t know much about compromise and neither did she. So she gave him back a question for a question. “You know how to ask?”

“
Oui
. You just don’ know how to answer.”

True.

They were both private people. Partly by necessity, she knew, because shifters never advertised their presence. Her brothers had taught her that. At best, they’d be a curiosity. At worst, they’d be hunted. So she’d learned to hide what she really was and to enjoy herself where she could. The bayou had fewer rules than any place she’d visited, so she’d had no problem living here. Dag Breaux was one sexy man, but she wasn’t sure she was ready for his rules or his world.