Treeland Pack Tales 3: A Trace of Ivy (11 page)

She studied her reflection. Wide green eyes stared back.
She’d always healed fast, had rarely been ill, and had a supersensitive nose.
Part wolfie actually made a lot of sense. They weren’t all monsters any more
than all humans were serial killers. The idea of having a werewolf heritage
didn’t totally freak her out. In fact the new reality was growing on her.

Satisfied that she’d done all she could to look presentable,
she tucked the species issue away in the back of her thoughts for now. She
gathered her purchases, eager to join Chet.

A stylish brunette, with more curves than any one woman
needed, stood much too close to Chet. The female looked up at him, her eyes
sparkling with amused delight. She was tall enough with heels that her mouth
practically brushed his. No doubt she was female werewolf, fully capable of
getting furry whenever she pleased. She wore a cashmere coat and tall Manolo
Blahnik suede boots that made her only slightly shorter than Chet. Together,
they were an elegant couple—tall, dark, and sophisticated. They fit much too
well and were obviously involved in an intimate conversation.

Ivy’s fragile self-esteem crumbled like stale cookies. How had
she believed his bonding nonsense for a second? She was a charity case,
hopelessly damaged, her insides permanently coated in the monsters’ nasty
fluids. Her shoulders hunched. She tried not to listen as she skirted around
them, staying out of Chet’s line of sight.

“This isn’t a good time, Amanda.” His voice was a husky
whisper.

“I’ve missed you, darling.” The other woman’s simper scraped
Ivy’s last nerve raw.

“Didn’t you get my message?” Chet caught a hand the
persistent female had snaked toward his face.

His delicious natural fragrance intensified, rolling off him
in waves. The intoxicating aroma wrapped around Ivy, pulling her closer to him.
It took all her strength to keep moving.

A blind woman would’ve known he was in a relationship with
the voluptuous brunette. Ivy couldn’t resist wondering how serious it was. Oh
my God, he might be married. Not all married couples lived together. He hadn’t
worn a ring, but lots of men didn’t. Neither Daniel nor Scarlet had wedding
rings. Did werewolves marry?

Whatever form their pair bonding took didn’t matter. The
idea of Chet belonging to another female squeezed her heart in an invisible
vise. Nothing the rogues had done to her ever hurt this much.

Nora spoke to some invisible friend as Ivy approached. “Yes,
Amanda made it.”

She certainly had. How cozy everyone but her knew they were
a couple. Ivy gritted her teeth and dropped the pile of clothing on the
counter.

The clerk’s head jerked up, causing her stylish bob to swing
away from her cheek, revealing a cell phone pressed to her ear. “I’ve got to
go.”

For the first time in ages, she longed for her nanny. She
was like Scarlet, unadulterated comfort. But if she called, she’d wind up
sobbing incoherently, and nanny couldn’t fix her big-girl boo-boos.

Sorry
, Ivy mouthed.
Strained my throat
. She mentally
added, from not screaming at the hussy wrapped around Chet.

Nora flushed. Her gaze skittered away as she answered
quietly, “I’ll have everything ready for your selection when you return.”

Thanks
. Too upset
to face a scene with Chet and the stylish bitch, Ivy scurried for the elevator,
clutching her beauty supplies—at least her skin and hair would look good.

She should’ve known better. The whole bonding-with-her spiel
had sounded too good to be true. It made sense that Chet had been on the verge
of mating with the voluptuous Amanda. Seeing her must’ve tipped him over the
edge into permanent commitment.

But if he was already involved, why had he come on so strong
to her? The attraction between the two of them had been intense with an
unmistakable strong sexual vibe right from the start. It wasn’t possible for
her to be so wrong about their chemistry.

From what Scarlet had told her about mating, if he’d been
bonded all along, he couldn’t be excited by another female. All that really
meant was the bonding phenomenon was very new. A faint spark of hope flickered.

She darted a glance back. Chet had both of Amanda’s wrists
locked behind her in one of his big hands. The female was arched into him,
clearly not intimidated.

Sharp pain pierced Ivy’s heart like monster’s fangs. Chet
had been kind to her. She’d been a fool to mistake his interest for something
more and to let herself get so invested in a male she barely knew. The thing in
her belly that she finally named wolf circled and snarled.

Ivy walked away faster.

Ben arrived as she stepped inside the elevator. “Where’s
Chet?”

“Busy,” she snapped and instantly regretted taking her
disappointment out on him. “Sorry, I have a headache. Can we get a cup of
coffee?”

She should call Scarlet and get away from him permanently.
But her head really was throbbing. A few minutes and a shot of caffeine would
patch her together well enough for her to leave with dignity.

“Okay, let me check in first.”

As much as she wanted to stomp away and never speak to the
lying dog Chet again, she needed the pack’s help to rescue her friends. She
laid a hand over his cell phone. “Please don’t tell Chet we’re leaving. I’m not
ready to deal with him.”

Ben shook his head. “Sorry. I have orders.” He dialed,
waited, and scowled. “We’re leaving for coffee. Call me.” He kept pace with her
as they left the elevator. “Weird that Chet didn’t pick up. You’re sure he’s
okay?”

“He’s busy.” She marched toward the kiosk on numb feet that
matched her spirits.

“Doing what?”

“More like who,” she muttered.

“I don’t understand.” Ben latched on to her upper arm. “Slow
down and talk to me.”

Ivy froze. Ben’s firm hold didn’t hurt, but she still
couldn’t make her body relax. Her lungs seized. She tried to drag in a deep breath.
Nothing worked. She told herself this was Ben, and he wanted to help. But he
was big, strong, and male, and he wasn’t letting go. The fear jolting through
her veins didn’t care about all the reasons she should trust him. Her terror
grew, impervious to rational thinking. Her chest felt as if it were being
crushed. She couldn’t breathe. Her vision started to fade around the edges.

“Easy there, Beta. Breathe with me, nice and slow.” Ben
cuffed her arm and gently eased her out of the pedestrian stream into an
alcove. As soon as she was isolated, he let go, keeping his broad back between
her and the crowd of Friday shoppers, but not touching her.

“In.” He inhaled for a few seconds, then exhaled. “Out.”

She concentrated on his face and following orders. Her
vision slowly cleared.

“You scared me. Can you talk now?” Ben took a step back.

“Chet’s wrapped around someone called Amanda. You grabbed
me. I freaked out, and here we are, sorry.” She dragged in another deep breath
after the rushed explanation.

Ben shook his head. “Nothing for you to be sorry about. I
shouldn’t have grabbed you. Panic attacks are no big thing. I have ’em all the
time. You just can’t see my fur bristling. As for Amanda, she’s old news.
There’s gotta be a logical explanation. Chet is way into you.”

“Maybe.” She slid her gaze away from Ben, afraid to hope.
“Everyone seems to know Amanda. Even Nora knew her.”

“That doesn’t mean anything. If I remember right, they’re
cousins or maybe aunt and niece. Our circle is pretty small—twelve hundred members
give or take a few. Most of them only show up for the major gatherings once or
twice a year.”

Ben was working hard on selling her the no-big-deal
explanation. She nodded agreement. Amanda’s timing had definitely been
suspicious. Ivy still had lots of questions, but they would wait until she’d
rewoven some shredded self-esteem. “The coffee stand is right over there. May I
have a latte, please?”

“Sure.” Ben’s shoulders relaxed a couple of inches.

Ivy waited while Ben seated her where he could watch both
her and the entrance, ordered, and received their drinks. After he deposited
the paper cups with their insulating sleeves and sat, she finally asked, “How
long have Amanda and Chet been involved?”

Sudden relief splashed across Ben’s expression, causing Ivy
to look over her shoulder.

Chet met her gaze. “For a couple of years, until the night
before I found you.” He angled his head toward Ben. “Give us a minute.”

The other enforcer shot out of his chair, leaving his coffee
behind.

Chet sat down across from her. “Look at me.”

She swallowed the lump of devastation blocking her throat.
“You could’ve just told me you were in a relationship.”

“You’re right. I should have. I should have told Amanda it
was over too. I’d decided to end it with her before I met you. She and I were
never anything but casual, and even that small connection is absolutely past
tense.”

Slightly mollified, Ivy still couldn’t unclench the fists
balled in her lap and refused to meet his eyes. “She looked very present tense
a few minutes ago, and you were very fragrant.”

“I am so sorry you were hurt. I would do anything for a
chance to redo that scene. Since I cannot erase my past mistakes, please give
me another chance.”

“Just answer one question.”

“Anything.”

She swallowed hard and made herself meet his compelling
gaze. “Are you bonding?”

“Yes, with you.”

Chet’s heart hammered against his ribs as he waited for the
wariness to leave Ivy’s beautiful green eyes. Instead she dropped her lashes,
dashing any hope for an easy reconciliation.

Damn Amanda and the meddling Nora. Thanks to them he had
lost hard-won ground with Ivy. He cursed the females for interfering. At the
same time, he hated himself, because Ivy’s pain was his fault. No one knew
better than he how small and connected the nonhuman world was—the packs more so
than most other races. He should have broken things off with Amanda months ago,
and then the little scene at Newman and Porter’s wouldn’t have happened.

Even if he’d manned up and told Ivy yesterday he’d been
seeing someone else, he could have explained he hadn’t yet had a chance to end
the affair. Ivy might well have withdrawn anyway, but at least Amanda wouldn’t
have blindsided her. Maybe then she wouldn’t be clutching her latte like it was
her only friend.

Amanda’s timing was particularly rotten. Later this evening
they were supposed to have dinner with Daniel and Scarlet. At the gathering
afterward Ivy would be introduced to the pack. Her scent was so damn sweet the
single males would be after her like the horndogs they were. The only way to
keep her from being swarmed was to coat her with his bonding scent. He had a
few scant hours left to overcome more than a month of abuse and win her trust.

Prior to Amanda bringing her brand of vicious fun to the
designer salon, he’d been belly creeping under Ivy’s defenses. Now he was goat
fucked.

“I thought you’d bonded with her.” Ivy’s raspy voice pricked
his already sore conscience like small daggers.

Angry at himself, he fought to keep from snarling and chose
his words with care. “She wanted a sanctified mating ceremony, which is similar
to marriage. I wasn’t interested in that kind of commitment with her.”

“I didn’t want to believe what I saw. But she’s so perfect
for you.” A teardrop slid down Ivy’s cheek. She flicked it away with an
irritated gesture.

Her tears made his wolf howl. He moved, trying to find a
comfortable position on a seat made for lighter specimens. The small metal
chair under him ground in protest. Chet rose and held out a hand to Ivy. “Walk
with me.”

He thanked the goddess when she put her small hand in his.

“Okay.”

Chet led her outside the mall and across the parking lot,
grateful the leather jacket hid his weapons and his hard-on. Ivy didn’t need
more harsh reality.

“Where are we going?”

Straight to a living
hell for me, unless I can pull some charm out of my ass, and that has never
been less probable
. The alternative to convincing Ivy to accept his collar
and give him one in return was to join the living dead—bonded males without
their mates. He spotted a memorial park one street east and tipped his head.
“Over there.”

A few minutes of silent trudging later, Ivy sank gracefully
onto a concrete bench. “This is lovely. But what are we doing here?”

“I need to talk to you.” Chet planted his feet where he
could watch Ivy and the park’s entrance and caught sight of Ben, patrolling the
perimeter.

Confusion clouded her green eyes. “Coffee inhibits you?”

“No, I wanted to talk without an audience.”

“Except for Ben.”

So she saw him too.
Smart female
. “Except for Ben.”

“Werewolf hearing is that acute?”

“Yes, along with the other senses.”

Ivy darted a curious peek at him. “Will you tell me more
about the sensory thing later?”

Goddess, I hope so
.
“Absolutely.”

She waited, obviously expecting him to expand his reply.

He gaped at her like the greenest pup, stunned by her beauty
and how much he wanted her. His bonding scent rolled off him in waves—so thick
even he noticed. There wasn’t a damn thing he could do to stop the irrevocable
phenomenon. In an instant his reality changed. His number-one priority from
this moment on was Ivy.

Her eyelids grew heavy, her lips softened, and she leaned
toward him.

Chet closed the gap between them with all the finesse of a
charging ram.

She stood, wrapped herself around him, and burrowed her nose
into his chest, inhaling deeply. “Your fragrance is intoxicating—like a drug I
can’t resist.”

Shit, I hope so, sweet
torment
. One second he was a free dog, and the next he belonged to Ivy. As
the bond snapped into place, he realized he had waited a lifetime for this
magical connection, never believing it would happen. He blinked back tears of
gratitude. His wolf rose close to the surface, pushing to claim their mate. The
hunger for her made it hard for him to process complex information like time of
day and location. He was clear the female he wanted more than fresh meat had
her arms wound around his neck. Aside from the layers of clothes separating
them, nothing else mattered. He lifted her chin and slanted his mouth over hers
in a kiss full of pure male possession.