Shift Happens (A Carus Novel Book 1) (22 page)

“Months?” His voice made a strangled sound.

I shrugged. “Maybe less if you play your cards right.”

Wick’s chest rumbled. “So what are you suggesting? You want to
date
me?” He made the word sound dirty.

“Time to wine and dine, baby.” I slapped his butt. The hard muscle left my hand stinging, but I couldn’t help myself.

Wick pretended to grumble, but his lips twitched. “So wait. You met Dylan when you were twenty, spent eleven years with him, thirty-three years as a mountain lion and then fifteen years with the SRD?” He paused, probably doing the mental math. “That makes you seventy-nine.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“Just a baby.” He licked his lips.

I stared at his mouth. “Exactly how much are you robbing the cradle?”

He shook his head and didn’t answer. “I hope you don’t expect me to keep my hands off you,” he said.

“I expect you to have them all over me.”

No more encouragement was needed. With a wicked grin, he dropped his head to my breasts.

“But,” I said.

Wick froze. “But?”

“I don’t think I’m…” I paused. “Ready for…” How should I put it? Sex? Commitment? Vulnerability?

Wick nodded. “I get it, Andy. We’ll go slow.” He trailed kisses down my body. One of his hands slipped under to clutch my butt. He squeezed it hard and dragged his teeth along my hip bone.

“I love how your skin tastes.” Wick’s voice vibrated off said skin. Ripples of pleasure traveled up my body. My nipples ached. Every inch of me hummed with deep longing. His actions defied his words. He might be working my body slowly, but this hardly qualified as a PG-rated activity.

“Wick.” His name came out as a plea.

His lips curled up and then he dipped his head between my legs. Running the bridge of his nose along the crease between my right leg and crotch, he drew in a deep breath, scenting me. “I want to taste all of you.”

I ran my hands through his short blond hair before clasping his head and angling it up to meet my eyes over the length of my body. His irises blazed yellow, his wolf in full control. “Wick,” I warned.

Wick swore and dropped his head. He took deep breaths in and out.

“This isn’t slow.”

“No,” came his strangled reply. He rolled off me. “I know. You are going to be the death of me, woman.”

I sank into the mattress and pillows, aching with unsatisfied need.
Right back at you.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Wick’s voice, laced with frustration and anger, hit me like an ice cream brain freeze. Not bothering to lift his head from the bed, he kept his arm draped over his face when he spoke. I tried not to check out his tented boxer briefs, and failed. My mouth watered and I shut it before Wick sensed my weakness.

“To my room.” I perched on the edge of the bed and tried to find my various articles of clothing. My shirt was in shreds, same with my bra. “Where are my pants?”

Wick growled.

“That’s not very helpful.”

The vibrations emitting from his chest deepened along with the scent of burnt cinnamon.

“What’s your problem?” Spotting my sweats, I hopped off the bed and padded to the corner of the room, but lifting them revealed they’d been ripped as well. “I’m the one who needs a new outfit. You’re getting me new stuff. That was my favorite bra.”

Wick sat up and glared. When he tried to speak another growl came out. He closed his eyes, probably counting to ten, and then spoke slowly. “You are not leaving.”

“Well not now. I need to borrow some clothes.” I crossed my arms. “I’m not running down the hall in my undies.” Not with all the vagrant Werewolves frequently in the house, even if they had all seen it.

Wick leapt off the bed, clutched my head with both hands and walked forward to bump me hard against the wall. Despite the caveman dynamics of the move, I didn’t feel threatened or in danger; instead, there was a possessiveness in the gesture that made my heart flutter. His mouth was on mine before I could demand an explanation.

“You. Are.” He nipped the tip of my nose before drugging me with one of his kisses. “Not. Leaving.” He pulled my head back by my hair. “Do you understand?”

“I understand that I’m going to go bald if you keep yanking my head around by my hair like a pubescent girl in a bitch fight.”

Wick released me and closed his eyes. He leaned forward until his forehead rested against mine. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“You’ve said that already,” I huffed.

“Andy.”

“Wick?”

“You cannot leave.”

“That’s ridiculous. Of course, I can leave. I need to. First, I’ve got to get dressed and then I’ll figure out what the hell is going on.”

“Tonight?”

Sighing I looked out the window. Already dark, I’d wasted another day. “No. Tomorrow. I’ll get a fresh start.”

“You stay.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m not one of your wolves to command, Wick. And I get it. I’m staying. Now give me some clothes so I can go to my room with some dignity.”

Wick growled. “I meant you stay here, in my room.”
You’re mine.
He didn’t need to say that part.

“You’ve a hell of a way of inviting a girl to a sleepover.”

Wick leaned down and trailed kisses along my jawline. “Stay…please?”

I pushed him back. “Is that a good idea? Our wolves are too close to the surface as it is.”

Wick’s body vibrated, his teeth elongated, and then both his arms flew to the wall to cage me in.

“Case and point! Stop growling at me. It’s getting old. I need to start Googling Vampire hordes and I can’t do that with your hard on giving me the stare down.”

Wick snorted and the tension in the room dropped. “A stare down?”

“It’s staring.” I waved my hand in the direction of his groin.

“You’ve got it backwards, Andy—you’re the one staring.” Wick did a little pelvic thrust when my gaze dragged down to the subject at hand.

“Stop that. I can’t focus.”

Wick’s teeth grazed my neck and scraped against my collarbone. A sigh escaped my lips. “Come to bed,” Wick whispered. “Let me hold you. That is all I will do. Promise.” He ran his hands down my arms, smoothing the goosebumps. “I will even lend you clothes in the morning.”

His mouth claimed mine in a gentle, but possessing kiss. His hands cradled my face and despite the dominating manner Wick utilized due to the raging wolf simmering beneath his skin, I felt cherished. My body warmed at his touch and a heady need sprang up again. I squashed it. Wick offered comfort.

“Mrmph,” I managed. Giving into the kiss, yielding, I melted into his arms. They closed around me. Strong, warm, supportive.
Mine
.

Wick reached down and hoisted me up, his hands grasping my thighs in a welcome pressure. He lowered me to the bed, the pillows and comforter soft silk on my skin. He stepped back and smiled.

“Mine.” His look brooked no argument and I wasn’t about to make one. Especially when the next thing he did was shuck his boxer briefs. A big whoosh of air escaped my lungs at the sight and when Wick looked up to catch me staring, a smile spread across his face as he did another pelvic jiggle before sliding into the bed. Still laughing, I turned over and gave him my back. His naked body made me want to do very bad things, and I didn’t trust either of us to stop if we started again.

Would that be such a bad thing?
My bad self asked.

Yes, yes it would
, I scolded her.

He wrapped an arm around me and swung a long heavy leg over mine—the big spoon to my little one.

“What were you saying about Vampire research?” Wick’s voice cut the comforting silence of the room.

“Mmm?”

“You were going to use those mad Google skills. What for?”

“To search Newspaper articles and Press Releases. I need to find out what Vampire hordes are visiting the area.”

“Why?”

“I think one might be behind the attack.”

“Explain.”

My natural resistance to confide flared up like a brutal case of indigestion, but I closed my eyes and breathed through it. Wick might be able to help. I had to let down the steely gates around my heart and try to trust him—give him a shot. If he really was my true mate, he was my chance for a happy ending. So for the second time that night, I went through details with Wick, but this explanation wasn’t as personal. Wick’s body tensed as I spoke.

“Ethan,” he spat. “It’s Ethan.”

I turned around in Wick’s arms and raised a brow.

“Ethan Monroe is a visiting Master Vampire. His emissaries started coming to us a couple days ago asking benign questions and making random requests. Nothing big. We thought it odd, but now it makes perfect sense. Ethan sent them to scout us and explain his presence in the city.”

“Is this enough information to go to Lucien with?”

“No. He will want proof—some evidence that links him with your handler.”

“Do you know where he’s staying?”

Wick shook his head. “Somewhere in West Vancouver. His emissaries keep evading our tails. We’re not sure how he’s doing it.”

“Magic?” Witches had an uncanny ability to wipe out all traces of scent, if the price was right or the motivation high enough.

“Maybe. There’s no smell.”

I frowned.

“At all. The area they disappear from is completely devoid of any scent.”

Groaning, I draped a hand over my eyes. “I hate Witches.”

“They smell good, though.”

“They do.”

“Not as good as you.”

Remembering where his nose had been recently, my cheeks warmed at the same time a fire built lower down.

Wick’s thumb caressed my face. “So what is your plan?”

“I’m going to hope Angie has a date with Ethan’s vamps and follow her from the SeaBus terminal.”

“What if she doesn’t?”

“Then I scour West Van in a grid and hope to catch their scent.”

“And if you don’t?”

I groaned. “Aren’t you Mister Negativity? If none of this works, I’ll have to repeat the process.”

“You do not have the luxury of time.” Wick hesitated. “You know…you are not in this alone.”

“Well, what do you suggest?”

“Let me send the pack to West Van to work a grid while you sit on the receptionist.”

My eyes narrowed. “And if your pack catches their scent?” Wow. That came out a bit more accusatory than planned. Wick’s eyes widened and something flashed in his eyes.

“We phone you?” he answered slowly.

“It’s not a trick question, Wick.”

“I feel like you are accusing me with something.”

I let out a long breath and took a moment to stare at the ceiling. “I don’t know how far I can trust you.” Wick started to object, but I placed a finger on his lips. “Not because you want to betray me, but because you have to.”

“You don’t trust Lucien.”

“Not one bit.”

A pause. “Me neither.”

There was a long awkward silence where we both avoided eye contact. What was there to say? We were both in a difficult position.

“Let me help you. I don’t have any orders to sabotage your investigation or go running to Lucien instead of informing you.”

“Lucien could have ordered you to say that.”

“Yes. He could have. But if he did, I would not have offered to help. And you can smell a lie.”

I dropped my head so my nose was wedged against his neck between his cheek and the pillow. Taking a deep breath, I immersed my senses in Wick’s scent.

Good mate,
my wolf panted. I shushed her and relaxed in the moment.

“I could get used to this.” Wick rubbed my back.

“Hmm?” I took another deep breath in. His scent was addictive.

“The purring.”

“Didn’t realize I was doing it.”

He continued to run his hands down my back. “Don’t stop.”

“I won’t, if you won’t. I love a good back rub.”

“Noted.” He kept his hands moving. “So?”

“Hmm?”

“Will you let me help you?”

I nodded and hoped I wasn’t making a mistake I would pay for with my heart and possibly my life.

My phone beeped. I frantically dug it out of my pocket. Did Wick and his pack find the Vampires? Hoped so—I could get off this stupid roof and out of the chilly wind. Angie’d done nothing this evening but prance around her living room in her panties dancing—thank goodness she did it at home, because nobody should have to see that. No woman who wanted to keep some self-esteem, at least.

I looked at my phone and discovered a text from Mel. I groaned, knowing what she wanted without reading her message. She’d been on my case to go shopping with her all day. Now that everyone in Wick’s pack had these smart phones, I’d gone from invisible to easily accessible. I didn’t want her to know how dire my circumstances were, so I’d been shaking her off with weak excuses. Not that I didn’t want to spend time with her—I just lacked time to spend. I had three days left. My heart pounded against my chest at the thought of being Clint’s play toy.

I punched in my password and read her text.
Please say yes to breakfast and shopping tomorrow. I need to find a cute crotch for next weekend.

A cute crotch? I stared at the phone in shock. That certainly wasn’t what I expected. I looked over the message again to make sure I read it right. Sure thing—she’d written crotch
. Cute one?
I texted back.
As opposed to your regular one?

Smiling, I waited for her response. It came quickly.

FML! A clutch purse! I meant CLUTCH!

Hah! I stifled a laugh because Wereleopards weren’t deaf. My fingers ran over the keys quickly to send my next message.
I like my current crotch.
I wanted to ask what FML stood for, but it must be something I should already know.

We should meet and talk. You’re not in this alone, you know.

Can’t. I have three days before my ass is grass. When this is over, we’ll talk. Promise.
I locked my phone and tucked it back into my pocket. I needed to focus.

I hated sitting around and waiting in human form. Without fur or feathers, the cold air slashed against my skin. But my falcon’s form had limits—texting one of the main ones. I adjusted my position to let blood flow back into my numb ass.