This Weakness For You (Entangled Select Otherworld) (Taming the Pack) (13 page)

Dane paused for only a moment before saying, “No. Alpha territory is considered as sacred as an Alpha’s mate. I think the only one allowed to breathe on Jordan’s property without permission is me—and now I can piss him off for life.” She heard a smile in his voice. “Finally, an upside. What makes you think someone was there?”

“I woke up in the middle of the night and saw something.” And her cat had freaked out. And she was staring down at a paw print just outside her window. A paw print that might mean someone was anxious about keeping her safe. That didn’t mean they deserved to have their throat ripped out. Damn. This blew.

“You woke up in the
middle
of the night and
saw
something?” Dane repeated—in a way that only a brother could—in a way that made it sound utterly ridiculous.

“It was probably nothing.” She’d psyched herself out, mostly.

“Jordan has an alarm system, doesn’t he?”

Yeah, but she hadn’t been activating it because she was worried she’d set it off and then not be able to run to the keypad to turn it off. If she let Lucifer go out at night from the bedroom door to the backyard, and she forgot to disable the alarm on that pad, she’d have to sprint the entire football field of a hallway to the master security pad to turn it off before Jordan’s security system called up and asked why some strange female was living in Jordan’s house.

“Yes,” she said. He did
have
an alarm system. She just wasn’t using it.

“Are you actually using it?” Dane asked slowly.

Crap, her brother knew all her tricks. “I’m afraid I’ll set it off, and I won’t be able to move fast enough to deactivate it.”

“Well, it’s not like they send out the black ops teams and helicopters right away, Squeaky.”

“No, but I doubt Jordan has put me on his list of contacts. I’ll come off sounding like a squatter—like the person who broke in.”

“So call Jordan and tell him to add you to his contacts.”

She groaned. Brothers were such pains. Men were such pains. Not everything had a simple solution, and Jordan’s panic button response seemed to involve her going to Mexico. Actually, Dane’s might too. “If I tell Jordan I want to be added to his security system, he’ll rush home thinking I’m freaking out.” And then he might rip the throat out of some poor Lycan who’d just been checking on her.

“You just called me because you thought someone was at your window—you
are
freaking out.”

“Look, never mind, how is Nathanial? I was thinking of scrubbing the cat off me and coming for a visit—after I restock the fridge.” It’d be good to be out of this empty house and around people, and Nathanial was easy to please…and smelled nice…most of the time.

“Nathanial is good. He decided last night that nighttimes are for sleeping—which I find hilarious because his mother still hasn’t discovered that.”

“He wasn’t sleeping at all!” Vanessa yelled.

“More sleep hasn’t improved his mother’s temperament, unfortunately,” her brother said.

“You are so going to pay for that!” Vanessa shouted again.

“Hey! Don’t talk to your Alpha that way!”

“Okay, what time will you guys finish arguing your way into sex so I can come over?” Christa asked. It was just as well she wasn’t staying with them. She couldn’t imagine anything less disgusting than catching your brother getting it on—other than catching your parents…or your grandparents. Still, it’d be awkward at the very least.

“I wish,” Dane said. “The doctor said six weeks. I’m hoping that translates into less time for Lycans—although maybe in dog years that means… Ow! Vanessa!”

“I’ll give you two until this afternoon, and then I’ll hit you with the hose if you’re not done,” Christa said before hanging up.

Lucifer and she both stared down at the print. “What do you think? What would Lucifer do? I mean you, by the way…not Satan, because I’m pretty sure Satan would be all for letting someone get their throat ripped out.”

Lucifer just stared at her like she was crazy.

And she was.

“I’m just going to let it go.”

Lucifer was still looking at her like she was crazy.

“Oh, what do you know? You’re a cat!” She stomped back inside the house. At least she had time for a few phone calls before she went over to Dane’s.

She made a few calls; some of her gentlemen were early birds. After a breakfast of pancakes—damn Jordan and his pillow talk, she couldn’t seem to stop wanting pancakes—she printed out directions on Jordan’s computer to a nearby grocery store.

With only a few wrong turns, she found the grocery store and leaned heavily on a cart as she pushed through it. Her strength was better. Hopefully, in a couple days, she’d be back to normal, and other than finding herself matched up with a mate tracking a serial killer, this life was lower stress.

Normally, she brought along a list, because her stomach spoke louder than her sense. She’d load up on Oreos and Dr Pepper and then pay with sugar crashes. With Jordan gone, she was allowing her inner girl to pick a few comfort foods. Her relationships had never been that serious. Even the guy who had ditched her when he’d found out she had MS had only rated four nights of Chunky Monkey ice cream.

If anything happened to Jordan… Well, nothing could happen to him. She was staring at the freezer full of ice cream and thinking none of this would be enough to get over Jordan if she had to—so she couldn’t have to.

She pulled out her phone and laughed in relief. Sweet, sweet bars of service. A few missed calls were probably from Jordan’s cell phone. She called him before she took a second to think about it.

“Hello?” he answered drowsily—then, alarmed, “Christa? Is everything okay?”

“Yes. Everything is fine. Is everything fine with you?” Her heart started beating fast. Everything had to be okay. He had to be okay. Life wouldn’t be so cruel as to lead her to someone just to take them away. What if he wasn’t tired? What if he was bleeding to death and she called, and he was too polite to rush her as he bled out?

“Yes. I’m fine.”

They both exhaled into the phone.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to wake you up. I finally had cell service.”

A bed squeaked as Jordan moved around. He was in a bed, talking to her—that was kind of sexy. His voice was all scratchy and gravelly. “It’s fine. I think I just had a heart attack, but it’s good to hear your voice.”

Ditto times twenty. Wow, she was hot for him—which was weird and creepy in the middle of a grocery store. The fluorescent lighting of the ice cream aisle wasn’t meant for sexy talk over the phone. She cleared her throat. “How did last night go?”

“Chased my tail for seven hours.”

“It’s funny only because you might be serious.”

“Mmm. What are you wearing?”

Christa laughed. “Are you going to ask that every time we talk?”

“Yes.”

She looked around before whispering, “I’m wearing clothes because I’m in a grocery store.” She should open the freezer door and stick her head in so the people around her didn’t think she was feverish. Maybe it was a bad idea to call him in a public place when his voice sounded straight out of a fantasy and he was going to ask her questions that would make her blush.

“Damn.”

She laughed again. “What kind of ice cream do you like? I’ll buy some for when you get home.”

“Hmm. I should pick something manly that says I’m strong and can take care of you.”

“Rocky road?”

“Ahh yeah, I should pick that.”

She smiled. “You’re going to pick something sissy, aren’t you? Bubble gum? Oh! Oh! Strawberry. No! Neapolitan!”

“What’s wrong with Neapolitan?” he asked. “It says you don’t settle—you choose all of them.”

“It’s got pink
and
brown ice cream in it…
and
vanilla. It says you’re in touch with your feminine side but you swing other ways.”

“That’s good to know…and a relief because, apparently, there are less butch flavors than cookies ’n’ cream.”

“That’s my favorite,” she said.

“So, we have that in common.”

“Yep. You like the same ice cream as a girl,” she said in a singsong voice that she’d used on her brother over and over again.

He laughed. Oh, wow, he needed to come home. She needed him around all the time.

“I should let you get back to sleep,” she said.

He sighed. “I guess I should let you hunt and gather.”

Then there was that awkward moment where she didn’t know what to say. How did you end a phone call with the guy you were crazy about, but you just met, and you weren’t sure he felt the same way?

“So, I should go,” she said and winced. “Maybe…”

“Uhh, yeah, I should go, too. I’ll call you later.”

“Okay. Bye.”

“Bye.”

She ended the call and banged her phone against her head. Apparently the correct answer to that question is that you ended it stupidly—like you were strangers. Well, he hadn’t done much better, but that was expected with guys. If he’d been all smooth about it, she might not believe him. Oh, well…they’d figure it out, and in the meantime, they could either save on ice cream
or
she could buy two containers. She pulled out two cartons of cookies ’n’ cream.

Several people looked down as they passed her, completely avoiding eye contact. Putting ice cream in the cart always made her feel like she was racing a clock, so it took several aisles before their odd behavior caught her attention. The fourth person attempting to do that…okay, enough was enough, and she rammed their cart, head-on. This guy was way too old to be playing “hustle the newcomer” or this creepy Stepford Wife business.

“Hello, Ms. Hill, can I help you with something?” he asked, still not meeting her eyes, but smiling anyway.

“Ms. Hill?” she repeated, her mouth dropping open. Whoa.

“Oh, I suppose you’re still going by Hansen. Can I help you with something? Is everything okay with Jordan gone? I told him we’d keep an eye on you.”

“No, I’m fine.” This guy was in the pack? Forget Stepford Wives, this was
Twilight Zone
—for some reason, she’d pictured all the wolfmen looking like Jordan. It was a stretch to even picture Vanessa as being a wolfman, wolfperson…wolfwoman…whatever.

“You should try the spinach dip from the deli here. And my wife likes their roasted chicken. Maybe we could have you for dinner if Jordan isn’t back soon.”

She was a bit on edge from the previous night, so the first few things that occurred to her were straight out of horror fiction. “Have me for dinner or
have
me
over
for dinner?”

He blinked. In innocent confusion. Okay, clearly not going to kill her and wear her skin, but he still wasn’t meeting her eyes.

“Never mind. So, I’m new to this whole thing…why are you acting like looking me in the eyes will make your face melt?” She spoke to older men all day. He was much easier to approach than the two women who’d done this.

Oh my hell, they were wolfpeople too!

He chuckled and glanced up, his eyes sparkling. “It’s called deference. It’s a sign of respect paid to the alpha male and female in the group. It’s so second nature that I sometimes forget it’s strange to those outside our culture. By the way, my name is Ethan, Ms. Hansen.”

“It’s Christa. Can I ask you to stop?”

He shook his head and looked down again. “Our pack needs to recognize leaders. Our strength is in that. Without leaders, we’re just a bunch of lone wolves without direction—easy prey to those who’d hunt us.”

“But that’s Jordan.” She was just…her.

“That’s both of you.”

She looked around. “But in a grocery store?” Ethan had to be kidding. She had just put a box of Froot Loops in her cart, and he had enough Campbell’s soup to feed a soup kitchen—this wasn’t city hall or at a business meeting. Besides, she was fragile. Not emotionally. Not mentally…despite what Dane might say. But physically, she had an iron grip on this shopping cart and was leaning on it like it was a walker.

“We may change forms, Christa, but our souls are the same. Out in the woods, at work, and even in a grocery store, we’re pack…and you’re the pack’s Alpha. Accept the deference as our allegiance to Jordan and his mate. If you imply you’re weak, it weakens him, and in turn, the entire pack.”

Her stomach felt sour even as her heart sped up. She liked the way being part of a pack sounded. She was part of something. Something bigger than just a work or study group—or even more disheartening, a support group. Well, this was a support group, without all the downer implications. It
was
creepy to have everyone avoiding her eyes, though. And they didn’t know her well enough to put her on this pedestal she’d be falling off of immediately.

“But I’m
not
better than you.” She
had
to say that—to start with that. He
had
to know that. They should all have really low expectations.

“No, you’re simply accepting your place in the hierarchy. Some choose to lead and some prefer to follow.” Ethan turned to look in back of him. “The wife is in the car and getting anxious. If you’ll excuse me, I need to get her some Nutter Butters.”

“Uhh, okay.” She pulled her cart to the side.

He nodded and said, “Try the spinach dip,” again as he passed.

She watched as he wound around the corner while whistling “Zip-a-Dee-Doo-Dah.” He didn’t look repressed. He looked like a guy anxious to get his wife some Nutter Butters, a guy who didn’t mind bowing his head to someone half his age who was leaning heavily on her cart. But this still felt wrong. Like she was faking her way into being something she wasn’t.