In Deeper (3 page)

The silence grew as she appeared to ponder his request. “No one knows I’m in Atlanta. Not even Drake.”

“So?” He shrugged. “You’re his beta. Not his slave. Say you had to come up on business.”

“Lie?” Her lips tilted into a smile. “The ever honest Micah wants me to fabricate a fictional business meeting?”

Aggravation made his tone harsher than he intended. “Know what? Go. Don’t go. It’s really no skin off my ass.”

He snagged his bag from the floor. “You have my number if you change your mind.”

Without a backward glance, he left the room, acting as if he didn’t care when all he really wanted to do was stay with her.

Even if it meant they argued the entire night.

CHAPTER TWO

She was in deep trouble.

Stuck in her hotel room and staring at the beige walls, Celeste considered her options. Micah was a constant thorn in her side, but the shared attraction was undeniable. Their one night together had been explosive, so much so that she’d freaked out the next morning and did the walk of shame with her tail tucked between her legs. And Max, his twin brother, was just as handsome and talented but much more reserved. Max hated drama and nothing spelled Drama more than her life.

There were more single wolves in The Secret Society of Savannah Lycanthropes, but none had half the strength of the Randolph males. She needed a powerful mate. Not just for future children but to protect her family’s business. Proctor Publications was under attack by an enemy intent on ruining the one thing she’d built her life around.

With a muffled curse, she broke open the lid on a miniature bottle of vodka and tossed it back. The alcohol burned her throat and made her eyes water. Despite getting drunk off her ass at Drake’s wedding, she’d never been one to overindulge. She worked hard to maintain her health. Pilates five days a week in human form. Long runs through the woods in wolf shape every weekend. Her strict regime didn’t allow for the consumption of empty calories. As a female wolf, her metabolism was better than a human’s, but she’d continued to treat her body like the potential weapon it was.

She glanced at her reflection in the mirror and grimaced. What good did it do to stay fit? She had no man to impress. No one saw her in anything but business clothes. Pointless to spend money on lingerie. She continued to do it because she loved shopping, but it was wasteful to collect pretty panties and seductive bras when no one saw them but her.

She tossed the bottle in the trash and moved closer to the mirror. Twenty-eight years old and nothing to show for it. The vast empire she ran had been her great-grandfather’s start-up business and maintained by every male Proctor thereafter. She’d been one female born in a family of males and worked hard to prove her mettle. Perhaps it made her seem emotionless, but what else could she do? Image was everything in her world, propagated by the perfection endorsed by their most popular publication,
Savannah Living
.

Her hard work had taken the magazine to the next level—online publication—and now she stood to lose it all. Just the thought of the unknown enemy made her grind her teeth.

She kicked off the red heels and enjoyed the plush carpeting beneath her tired feet. Who knew country music fans would stand for the entire performance? She’d chosen a seat near the back of the arena to remain undetected, but her need to view the performance had kept her on her feet the entire time. She was tall for a woman but no match for exuberant teenagers jumping up and down on their seats.

Her Blackberry buzzed. She grabbed it off the bed and glanced at the display. Drake! Instinct roared at her to ignore the call, but centuries of breeding forced her to answer.

“Celeste.” His smooth, dark voice came across the line. “Where are you?”

Damn Micah and his big mouth.

She dropped onto the mattress and sighed. “My room.”

The sound of Drake’s chuckle tugged at her heartstrings. She’d never been able to make him laugh before Emma. “Which hotel?”

Nothing to do but to hedge. “Look, Drake. I appreciate you calling, but it’s been a long day.”

He cut her off and repeated, “Which hotel?”

“St. Regis.” What else could she do? The alpha couldn’t be ignored. “Astor suite.”

“I’m coming to get you.”

She groaned and looked at the one outfit she’d brought with her, the one already on her body. Maybe she’d have time to run downstairs and find a more suitable outfit. “I don’t suppose there’s any chance you stayed at a different hotel?”

Drake shot her scheme to pieces with four words. “Give me five minutes.”

She disconnected the call and tossed the phone onto the bedside table. “Shit,” she said to the empty room.

She fetched another bottle of liquor from the fridge and downed it. Liquid courage. She’d need it to get through an evening sitting across the table from the man she’d once thought she’d marry, knowing his younger brother was the one who knocked her socks off.

Not that she ever wore socks, but if she did, Micah would knock her right out of them.

The burn of the vodka warmed her bloodstream. What was it about alcohol that called forth both her libido and wolf? Her eyesight sharpened and took on a green glow. She blinked until her vision returned to normal. The luxurious furnishings became pale blue and ivory again.

With no time to waste, she dug into her purse and pulled out a powder compact. Alcohol and embarrassment stained her cheeks a pale pink. Swiping the sponge across her cheeks didn’t help. She tossed aside the compact and dug out a tube of gloss. She slicked on the pale peach and smacked her lips. It would have to be enough.

A knock sounded on the door as soon as she’d finished. She ran her sweaty palms down the legs of her pants and jerked open the door. “Hello, Drake.”

Surprisingly he was alone, dressed in jeans and a button-up, and more casual than she’d expected. “Micah told me he ran into you in the lobby and invited you to supper, but you turned him down.”

He’d lied to cover for her? Amazing. “I was working and didn’t want to barge in on a family event.”

“You are family.” Drake’s blue gaze lingered on her face. “Is anything wrong?”

“No. Why?” She bit her lip and prayed he didn’t comment on her choice of clothing.

The alpha cocked his head to one side. “You’re acting strange.”

“I had a couple drinks earlier. You know how alcohol goes straight to my head.” She affected a casual laugh, but it sounded forced even to her own ears.

“Hmm.” Drake moved farther into the room. “I haven’t had much time to talk to you lately. I didn’t know you were coming to Atlanta.”

Damn it, he seemed intent on a conversation. She shut the door and motioned toward a chair. “Last-minute meeting.” Micah’s suggestion, or lie, fell easily from her lips. “Would you like to sit?”

She noticed the screen she’d left open in her Internet browser and hurried over to snap the lid closed. No need for Drake to see she’d visited his brothers’ fan page. “How was the concert?”

Drake’s gaze sharpened and zeroed in on her. “I suppose Micah didn’t tell you?”

“Not really.” She shrugged and took a chair opposite him. “You know how he is around me.”

“I do indeed.” Drake’s gaze moved past her and focused on the partially open door to the closet. “No luggage?”

“I told you. Last-minute meeting. I didn’t have time to pack.”

He leaned forward and clasped his hands between his spread knees. “Cut the act, Celeste. You and I both know you didn’t come to Atlanta for work. What’s going on?”

“What makes you think something’s going on?” Shit, why couldn’t she keep her mouth zipped?

“Call it a hunch.” Drake’s wide shoulders flexed. “Let me help you.”

“No.” She shook her head. “It’s nothing. Honest.” She stood and tugged at the low waistband of her leather pants. “I don’t want to keep you from supper. Thank you for coming by, but as you can see, I’m fine.”

He remained seated. A flare of amusement lightened his eyes. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily. Come to supper.”

It was worth a try. “I’ve already eaten.”

He stood, putting him a couple inches above her height. “I doubt it. You’ve probably been in here working all night. Come on. Let me buy you a steak.”

She nearly moaned aloud. Red meat was her weakness. She’d been too nervous before the concert to do more than nibble at a fruit tray her butler delivered to the suite earlier in the evening. “Really, Drake, I couldn’t eat another bite.”

She patted her flat abdomen for effect. He took her wrist and towed her forward. “I’ll go running with you tomorrow to make up for it.”

Her heart ached. They hadn’t gone for runs together since the spring. “Emma won’t mind?”

He shot her a quick look. “Emma understands about us. You’re still my beta, Celeste. Nothing will change it.”

Everything had changed, only he didn’t know it.

She’d worked hard to keep her interest in Micah on the down low. From the cradle, she’d known her father planned for her to marry a strong shifter, someone destined to be the alpha. It had been easy to choose Drake. He was her friend, an attractive wolf who cared about his family more than most. He’d risked it all to save his sister and Emma, even going so far as to give up his position. Luckily, it hadn’t been necessary.

Drake had been the logical choice, one she’d made with her head, not her heart. She realized now they’d never suit. He was the perfect mate. Just not for her. She’d had a brief taste of something glorious, passionate, seductive, and all-too-brief. Her one night with Micah made her burn for more.

“Celeste.” Drake continued to study her. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

She shook her head. “I’m tired. It’s been a long night.”

Drake stood as well. His height should intimidate, but she was safe with him. “Come. Let’s eat. Then you can come back to whatever it was you came here for.”

She recognized a command when she heard one. Drake wasn’t overbearing, but his tone hinted at the finality of his words. “Let me get my shoes.”

She fetched the heels and slid them on, conscious of Drake’s gaze on her the entire time. If he thought her attire odd, he didn’t comment. What would the others say when they saw her? Max and Emma were too well-mannered, but they would look at her and know something was wrong. Fucking Micah. He’d done it on purpose to embarrass her.

Downstairs, Drake held out her chair so she could sit between Micah and Max. She kept her gaze averted from Micah, knowing one glance at the smirk on his face would push her temper past its boiling point. Instead she focused on Max, inquiring about the concert and doing her best not to include his twin in the conversation.

Emma, Drake’s fresh new bride, leaned over to touch her hand. “I’m so happy you could join us.”

Celeste forced a smile. The tiny water bender was a sweet girl, seemingly innocent, but charming nonetheless. “Thank you for inviting me.”

Emma waggled her fingers over Celeste’s wineglass, and the golden liquid swirled in tiny circles. Celeste was impressed despite herself. “You’ve learned how to control more than just water.”

Emma nodded. Her cheeks were pink with good health, and her eyes sparked like jewels. “I’ve been practicing.”

Drake clasped his wife’s hand in his and lowered it to the table. “I know you’re proud of your new skills, but enough demonstration for now.”

Celeste sensed rather than felt Micah shift closer. She resolutely kept her face turned away from him. A moment later, a brush of fingers against her outer thigh caught her attention. Without looking at him, she hissed, “Stop.”

“What?” he murmured back. “This?”

His hand grew bolder, cupping her leg and moving toward the juncture of her thighs. Without missing a beat, she grabbed her steak knife and placed the point to the skin between his thumb and index finger. “Enough.”

He chuckled and drew his hand back. She returned the knife to her plate, not missing the strange look Emma gave her from across the table. Just great. Now Drake’s wife was curious about them.

“Excuse me for just a moment.” She pushed back her chair and stood.

The men stood as well, but she motioned for them to return to their seats. Without a backward glance, she left the table, intent on putting distance between her and Micah and the ridiculous attraction she couldn’t fight.

She turned to the right, toward the elevators, when a hand snaked out and grabbed her elbow. Thinking it was Micah, she jerked her head toward him. The heated words she’d meant to say died in her throat as she looked into the malevolent gaze of a stranger. He was obviously a shifter, his irises slanted and golden. But not a wolf. Something feline perhaps.

Instinct kicked in and kept the panic away. She regarded him in a calm manner, while simultaneously committing his face to memory. “May I help you?”

“He said you were a feisty one.” The man’s voice was deep and rumbling, like rocks rubbing against one another. “I need you to come with me.”

“Who said?” She quelled the fear and squared her shoulders. Drake was too far away to help, but maybe she could hold this man off if he used force. “I’m not going anywhere.”

His expression turned forbidding. He was a large man, easily three hundred pounds of muscle and sinew. What in the hell was he? A lion perhaps?

“Look, I don’t know what you want with me, but…”

“Celeste?”

Her heart jumped into her throat and then performed a free fall to the pit of her stomach. “Micah!”

He eyed the both of them, his gaze cool and assessing as he noted the man’s grip on her arm. His stance changed in an instant, the lean body curling into a fighting position. “Let go of her.”

The man who held her tightened his grip. She tried to hold back a cry, but damn it, it hurt. Micah’s gaze flicked to hers and then trained on the other man’s face. “I won’t tell you again.”

Thank God it was late and few patrons strolled the hallway in front of the café. One look at Micah and it was easy to see he was ready for a fight. The man holding her arm didn’t appear to be giving up either.

In no mood to witness a brawl or risk Micah being hurt because of her, she gathered her wits and took a deep breath. With a speed she doubted Lion Man thought her capable of, she twisted his arm and flipped him over her shoulder. While he was still flat on his back, she bolted.