Training Their Mate [Pack Wars-Book 1] (19 page)

He set down her suitcase. “I’m sorry you had to
find out like that.”

She saw no reason to continue this discussion.
“It’s okay.”

“You do realize your mom’s son was a werewolf?”

She spun around. “You don’t know that.”

“He would have been if Couch was the father.”

She shivered at the thought. Maybe it was
better that an umbilical cord had wrapped around his neck at birth. No. She
didn’t really mean that. She would have loved her brother no matter who or what
he was.

“You still have the gun, sugar?”

“Yes.” She hoped he wouldn’t ask for it back.

“We need you to be very careful. Couch might
blame you for his troubles.”

As if her stomach wasn’t already in a state of
upset, his comment made it worse. “I’ll be on the lookout.”

“The problem is that it might not be Couch.”

She spun around. “Why are you doing this to me?
I’m scared shitless as it is. Now I have to look over my shoulders for the rest
of my life. Maybe I should just move to another state.”

Only she didn’t want to move.

Before he answered, squealing tires turned a
corner and charged toward her. She had to smile at Chelsea’s grand entrance.

As soon as her friend stopped, Liz picked up
her suitcase. Before she took even one step, Dante pulled her to his chest and
kissed her.

“Sugar, I will never stop wanting you or
needing you. Please come back.”

She dipped her head. If she looked deeper into
his shimmering hazel eyes, she’d be lost. Only now could she see the flecks of
amber swimming in his iris. “Good-bye.”

Tears stung her eyes as she opened the back
door to Chelsea’s car, tossed in her suitcase, and slid in the front seat. She
kept her gaze averted as Chelsea took off.

Chapter Sixteen

Dante kicked a stone across the road. He
couldn’t believe the woman he was falling in love with just walked out of his
life because his brother shifted in front of her. Dante would have told her,
but in his own way.

He raced back to the building and entered. He
took the steps two at a time and barged into the living room. Trax was pacing
the kitchen.

Attacking Trax might not have been smart, but
Dante couldn’t take his brother’s surliness one more minute.

“You fucked up the best thing in our lives, you
know that?”

Trax ran a hand over his short-cropped hair.
“What was I supposed to do? I failed to find Couch.” He shook his head. “It’s
better this way.”

“Better? Are you shitting me? Liz is the one
for us.”

“For you maybe. She won’t want me if I’m a
failure.”

“You’re not a failure. You ran into a little
bad luck.”

Trax placed his empty beer bottle on the
counter and got another one out of the fridge. He walked into the living room.
Now Dante was worried. Trax never left an empty bottle on the counter.

Trax waved his beer. “We’ve got to make sure
Couch doesn’t come after Liz.”

He agreed and was glad his brother didn’t want
to abandon her. “How do you propose doing that?”

“We watch her twenty-four seven.”

That didn’t seem practical. “I repeat. How do
you plan to do that? Follow her all day?”

“If need be.”

Now Trax wasn’t making any sense. “Just admit
it. Liz is gone and we’ll never have a mate.”

Trax kicked the leg of the coffee table,
sending a ceramic bowl skittering off the glass top and crashing to the floor.
“Fuck me.”

Dante wanted to do more than that. “You suck.” He
shoved his thumbs in his pockets. “So what’s your plan to get her back?” His
brother better want her back or he would charge.

“We can’t go after her until Couch is caught
and in prison for the rest of his miserable life.”

“That could take years.” They’d been after the
guy for over six months already.

“What choice do we have?”

His brother was losing it. “Maybe I should move
in with her.”

“You can’t be with her twenty-four seven.
Listen, Liz needs time to figure things out. Charging in there will only make
it worse.”

He tried to picture knocking on her door. She’d
answer, but the stubborn half would appear. “I’ll give her a week. Then I’m
going in.”

#

“Tell me everything.” Chelsea sat on Liz’s bed
and handed her another tissue.

She’d gone through almost a half box already.
“The last few days have been wonderful.” She held up a hand. “Being at the
shipyard and seeing Couch scared the crap out of me, but with the bulletproof
glass, I was safe.”

“You said the sex was wonderful.”

“Amazing. Both men really seemed to know what I
wanted and needed.”

Chelsea looked almost dreamy eyed. “What was it
like being tied up and totally at their mercy?”

Wonderful, divine, sexier than anything she’d
ever done in her life. “It’s not like I can even describe how they made me
feel. I will tell you that when Trax takes control, and I mean really takes
control, I’m transported to a new place.”

“I want to be tied up, spanked, and almost
tortured by a bunch of hunky men.”

“Do you have a fantasy of getting gang raped or
something?”

Chelsea’s brows pinched. “No, I only want two
men. And I want them to be so desperate that they tear off my clothes and fuck
me hard and fast.”

Her friend’s comment finally got her to
chuckle. “You are a piece of work.”

“You even said you liked being blindfolded and
having a plug in your ass all night.”

“I did.” Only because the plug was the means to
a very good end.

“So why the hell are you here and not getting
laid?”

She didn’t know if she could put it into words.
“Having the men
take
you is only good
if there is total trust. Now there is none.”

“What you’re saying is that you are willing to
give up on two of the hottest men in the world because they broke your trust?”

“Yes.”

“I see. Tell me this. Are you questioning their
devotion?”

“Yes.” She didn’t see where Chelsea was going
with this.

“Your belief is based on the fact they lied to
you.”

“That’s right.” Her friend finally seemed to
understand. “They even said I was the one for them. Their lack of honesty about
something this important proves I’m not.”

“Then let me ask you this. When did you expect
them to tell you? When they had you tied up and they were licking your pussy?”

“No.” Chelsea was being ridiculous.

“When they were trying to catch the bad guy for
you?”

Heat slowly warmed her face. “No.”

“What would you have said if they told you the
first night they were werewolves?”

Her friend was taking this too far. “I would
have freaked.” Just like she did when Trax shifted.

Chelsea nodded. “They probably anticipated your
reaction and were waiting until you fell for them before they told you.”

“That doesn’t change anything.”

Chelsea picked up Liz’s hand and ran a thumb
over the top. “Unless they told you they were werewolves when Trax came up
behind you in the alley, you would have said they should have told you sooner.”

“I suppose.”

“So it all comes down to timing. Just because
their timing was off doesn’t mean they don’t love you.”

Now she was more confused than before. “I don’t
know.”

“Here’s the bottom line. Do you love them?”

She removed her hand from her friend’s grasp
and blew her nose. “Maybe.”

“Maybe yes or maybe no?”

“I don’t know. I’m so damned confused.”

“Think about this. Perhaps they withheld the
truth to save you some trauma. After all, your first impression of werewolves
wasn’t a good one. Don’t be so quick to judge.” Chelsea slid off the bed. “I
need to get home. Think about what I said.”

Liz looked up and wiped the tears off her cheeks.
“Thanks. Maybe I’ll see you at work tomorrow?”

“You bet.” Chelsea hugged her goodbye and left.

Liz got off the bed and made sure her drapes
were drawn and her doors locked. If Couch really was going to come after her,
she didn’t want to make it easy on him.

What she really needed was a good soak in the
tub with piles of bubbles, soft music, and a glass or two of wine. She wanted
to forget about Harvey Couch, and she wanted to forget about the fact that the
men she’d fallen for were animals in disguise.

She ran the bath water and poured her wine.
After she stripped, she sunk into the foam, leaned her head back, and relaxed
for the first time in what seemed like forever. The scabs on her knees had
healed, and she almost had full use of her hand. The palm was a little tender.
In a couple of days she’d see about getting the stitches removed.

She sipped the wine and let her mind wander to
the hot sex she’d had with her men. There wasn’t only one thing that always
brought her to the pinnacle of her release. Everything they did excited her. She
couldn’t help but remember the time when she’d almost climaxed about four times
before Trax finally let her come. That orgasm might have been the best one
ever. Her pussy was still vibrating and swollen when Dante strolled in. Now she
understood why her scent drove him wild—she was their destined mate. Then
Trax held her down while Dante fucked her.

A normal person might have thought his action was
insensitive, but when she was with them, her needs had always come first.

Then why
leave them?

After finishing her glass of wine, exhaustion
claimed her. She climbed out of the tub and dried off. The soft fabric from the
pajamas made her even more relaxed, and she crawled into bed, hoping for a
better day tomorrow. She promised herself she’d dream only of selling a home
and not about her hot men.

#

Even seven days after learning Trax’s shocking
revelation that he and Dante were werewolves, her sleep-deprived brain hadn’t
figured out what she should do about it. She missed her men something fierce,
but the fact they weren’t honest with her still tore her apart.

Chelsea had a point when she’d asked when would
have been a good time for them to tell her, but learning after she made love
with them was definitely too late. Adding to her problems was the fact all day
long she kept looking over her shoulder, expecting a wolf to jump out from
behind a bush and attack her. Even when she went into a neighborhood to check
out a house, and a dog barked, she jumped. Her clients were even beginning to
comment about her strange behavior. It wasn’t like she could tell them she was
being stalked by a werewolf who wanted her dead.

Dante had suggested she keep her weapon in her
glove compartment, but she didn’t feel comfortable having her gun that far away.
So, she carried it in her purse.

After
her
last showing, she stopped by the store to pick up something for dinner from the
deli counter. Ever since she’d broken up with the men, she hadn’t been in the
mood to cook and her appetite had waned. She’d already lost four pounds, and it
showed mostly in her face. Tonight, comfort food was on the menu. She was
determined to find something to cheer her up, and the fried chicken, coleslaw,
and rolls she bought seemed perfect.

After
the
short drive home, she scoped the surrounding area before she opened the car
door and went inside. Everything looked normal. She placed the food on the
kitchen counter and set out her meal.

Her plate in hand, she traipsed over to the
sofa and clicked on the television. She put on Netflix, hoping to find
something entertaining. A few funny movies without romance were listed and sure
to make her laugh. But when she found herself thinking of other things halfway
through the movie, she turned it off. Being alone sucked. If Dante had been
here, they would have been laughing at the movie together.

Call him
.

Her mom always said she was too stubborn for
her own good. Maybe that was true. Around eleven, she crawled into bed and
turned off the lights. Her thoughts bumped between Couch’s snarling face to
Trax’s werewolf state. Agitated, she jumped to the home showing she’d had
today. That couple picked at every little thing.
Yeesh
.

Liz shoved off the covers and fluffed the
pillows trying to get comfortable. This time she imagined Dante and then Trax
in his human form. She let her mind wander between eating lunch at the beach
with Dante and enjoying her time in the playroom with both men. Soon her
muscles relaxed and she drifted off to sleep.

The clicking sound of a door opening made her
bolt up in bed.

Oh,
shit.

She couldn’t decide if she should turn on the
light, call 9-1-1, or just grab her gun and shoot whoever was in her house.