Wolf from the Past: Salvation Pack, Book 4 (9 page)

“You’re a strange man, Gator.” She tensed as soon as she blurted out the thought. Her ex would have backhanded her. Come to think of it, so would her father.

Gator simply smiled and moved her hand away. “So I’ve been told.” He rose and stretched his arms over his head, displaying his broad chest and strong arms to perfection. Her wolf wiggled and whimpered, the hussy. She wanted him.

Truthfully, so did she. Sylvie ached, her pussy empty and wanting. As much as she wanted him, he was right, she wasn’t ready.

“I could. I could touch you, the way you touched me.” She couldn’t believe such an offer was coming out of her mouth. After the demands Andre had made on her, she’d never believed she’d willingly offer to put her hands or mouth on another male—human or werewolf.

Gator lowered his arms and placed his hands on his hips. The front of his pants were tented with his heavy erection. “I’d like that. But not tonight.” He went to her window and pushed the opening wider. The night air still carried the warmth of the day but it was cooler.

“What are you doing?” she asked when he placed one leg over the sill.

“I’m going before I do something stupid, like curl myself around you and spend the night. I don’t think your brother or you are ready for that.”

Armand. She’d forgotten all about him. “You could stay.”

“You’re killing me here.” Gator dropped his head against the side of the window. “It’s better if I go. Armand will be back any minute, and I don’t want to have to fight my friend.”

“Are you ashamed of what we did?”

Gator pulled his leg over the ledge and prowled back to her bed. All traces of the easygoing lover were gone, replaced by an angry, primal male. She jerked back before she could stop herself. He pulled up short and growled.

“I will never hurt you. Do you understand?”

No, she didn’t understand at all, but she did know she’d hurt him. And that was never her intention. “It was reflex.” She wanted him to understand it wasn’t him.

He took a deep breath and slowly released it. “I get that. I really do.” He reached out and cupped her face in his hand. “To answer your question, I’m not ashamed of you. Not at all. If it were up to me, I’d crawl in bed with you and the rest of them could go to hell if they didn’t like it. I just figured you weren’t ready for everyone to know your business, especially not your brother.”

He was right. She wished he was mistaken, but he wasn’t. “It just seems…wrong.” Like what they’d done was somehow immoral, something to be hidden.

Gator shook his head. “No, not wrong. You’re a grown woman and your business is your own, but Armand is your brother. He feels protective over you, and rightfully so.” He gave her a rueful grin. “If I had a sister and discovered one of my friends had gone to her bed her first night here, I’d take him outside and beat the crap out of him.”

Her eyes widened and then she laughed. “You would, would you?”

“Yeah, I would.” He rubbed his thumb over her cheek. “So as much as I’d love to crawl back in bed with you and love you for what’s left of the night, you’re not ready for it, and neither is Armand.”

She tilted her head to one side and studied him. “How did you get to be so wise?”

His low laugh made her skin heat. “You’d be the only one who’d think that.”

“Then they don’t know you, do they?” she insisted. There was so much more to this man than what he showed the world. She felt honored that he was sharing that part of himself with her.

“They know me as well as anyone. Better.”

She let it go, sensing his growing unease. “You should go before Armand gets home.”

Gator growled, bent down and planted a quick, hard kiss on her lips. Then he turned and climbed out her window. She quickly eased out of bed and hurried over so she could watch him go, but she was already too late. There was no sign of him anywhere.

Sylvie sighed and looked back at the bed. It had already smelled like him, after all, it was his bed, but now it would carry his scent combined with hers. She should probably take a shower or at least get washed up before heading back to bed. At the very least, she should get a fresh nightgown.

Instead, she walked back to the bed and crawled beneath the sheet, letting the cool cotton soothe her heated skin. She wondered where Gator was and what he was thinking.

Chapter Nine

Gator wasn’t thinking, he was acting totally on instinct, and that instinct was screaming at him to protect Sylvie at all costs. And right now, that meant leaving her even if every cell in his body yearned to stay with her.

He ripped off his track pants, tossed them over a low tree branch and shifted. He embraced the change, giving his wolf free rein. His body changed, going from man to wolf in the blink of an eye. He shook himself to keep from howling. Growling low in his throat, he began to run.

Trees whizzed by him as he jumped over rocks and around bushes. He picked up speed, hoping to outrun the deep-seated need he had for Sylvie. For several miles, he was almost mindless in his pursuit. Eventually, rational thought trickled into his brain and he slowed.

No sense in trying to outrun something that was with him no matter where he went.

Panting heavily, he stopped and listened. He was alone with the coming dawn. He sat his butt down on the ground and shifted again. The wolf, who usually didn’t want to give way to the man, retreated easily, as exhausted as he was.

Gator sprawled back on the mossy ground and let the cool morning air brush over his naked flesh. His cock was still full and hard. Even the demanding run hadn’t managed to temper his desire for Sylvie.

Swearing, Gator reached down and gripped his cock in his hand. The last thing he wanted to do was jerk off in the woods, but he really didn’t have any other choice. What was he going to do? Go home and face his buddies with a raging hard-on? Like that wouldn’t raise any questions. Or maybe he could just run on back to the house and climb into bed with Sylvie.

His shaft jerked in his hand, the damn thing in agreement with his second option, which wasn’t happening. Sylvie wasn’t anywhere near ready for that next step in their relationship.

And they did have a relationship.

He’d avoided using the R word before, and now he knew why. He’d been waiting for the right woman. He was a realist and freely admitted that Sylvie was it for him, his one and only chance at mating.

He thought of her naked and tousled and spread across his bed. He pumped his hand up and down his hard length. He groaned and a squirrel made a mad dash up a tree, rustling leaves as it went.

Gator ignored the small animal and continued moving his hand.

Her scent still filled his nostrils. Her taste lingered on his lips. He growled and pumped faster. It wasn’t nearly as satisfying as being inside Sylvie would be, but it would have to do.

It was all too easy to imagine her wet heat surrounding him. Her tight pussy squeezing his dick. “Fuck,” he muttered as he drew his legs up and braced his feet on the cool moss. His balls were unbearably tight. His entire body ached with need. He worked his dick, going harder and faster.

He wanted to say her name aloud but bit down on his lip, his instinct always to protect her. Even though he was alone, he wouldn’t risk anyone else discovering his obsession for her.

He gritted his teeth, tilted his head back and swallowed a howl as he came. His release jetted over his hand and belly in a seemingly endless stream until he was emptied out.

Hollowed.

There was no satisfaction, just physical release.

He thought about Sylvie curled up cozily in his bed and hoped she was sleeping.

He lay where he was for long minutes until his breathing settled and his mind calmed. Then he rolled to his feet and got his bearings. It was sheer luck that he was only about a five-minute walk to a small stream. He hurried and made it in three.

The water was cold but he waded in and then knelt on a flat rock, letting the chilly water flow around him. He splashed it over his chest and groin until he was clean. Then he immersed himself totally in the frigid water. As much as he hated to remove any trace of Sylvie’s scent on his skin, he knew he had no choice.

If it were up to him, he’d go back to the house and announce to one and all that Sylvie belonged to him. Then he would claim her as his mate.

That would only serve to scare her to death and possibly make her run. Not to mention what it would do to Armand. Her brother would likely want to tear off Gator’s arms and beat him with them.

The grizzly image made him smile.

No, Armand’s first instinct would be to protect his sister. Gator couldn’t fault him for that, but neither could he allow Armand to get between them. Better to take his time and get Sylvie on his side first. If she wanted him and freely admitted it, then Armand would have fewer objections.

He dipped his head below the water and held his breath for almost a minute before jerking into a seated position. Shit, his balls had probably shrunk a size in the cold. He climbed to his feet and raked his fingers through his hair to dislodge the excess water. Then he trudged back to the shoreline.

The sun was just peeking over the horizon when he spoke. “How long have you been here?”

“Long enough.” A man of few words, Cole stepped up to stand beside him. Neither of them spoke as the sun rose higher in the sky.

When nature’s show was over, Gator turned to face his friend. Cole studied him for several moments. “I assume you know what you’re doing?”

He shrugged. “It’s what I have to do. What I’m going to do.”

Cole rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. “You always were a stubborn bastard.”

“That hasn’t changed,
mon ami
.” Gator slapped Cole on the back and began walking, eager to get back to the house, to Sylvie.

“Just be careful.”

Gator slowed and waited until Cole was alongside him. “I would never hurt her.” And he resented the implication.

“Not physically,
non
, but she is fragile in spirit.”

He looked pointedly at Cole. “Just like Cherise was fragile in spirit.”

Cole tensed but then relaxed and gave a low chuckle. “Point taken. I just don’t want either of you hurt. It’s going to take a small miracle to get her to trust a male werewolf again. I can only imagine what her life with Andre was like, and none of it’s good.” Cole slapped him on the shoulder and then shifted. Cole was the largest wolf among them, the biggest one Gator had ever seen. Silent as a ghost, his friend disappeared into the trees.

Gator took a deep breath and released it. He knew Cole was right. He also knew it changed nothing. There was no way he could walk away from Sylvie, not again. He embraced his wolf. His jaw cracked and reformed, his hands and feet became large paws and fur covered his skin.

He was eager to get back to Sylvie. Although Armand was with her and the other women, Gator didn’t like leaving them for long, not with the threat still out there.

A shiver skated down his spine and he stopped in his tracks. He raised his nose into the air, sniffed and filtered out the smells. Nothing out of the ordinary. He twitched his ears but could hear nothing but the early morning sounds of the birds and the small animals starting their day.

All was as it should be.

But Gator hadn’t lived as long as he had by not trusting his instincts. Someone was out there. They were just too clever to give their position away.

He started moving then, fast. When he passed Cole, his buddy sensed something was wrong and picked up the pace. By the time they reached the house, they were both winded.

All was quiet. Gator shifted and grabbed his track pants. The scent of coffee wafted from the open kitchen window and he knew Armand was probably up and around. He yanked on the pants and headed for the door. “I’m going to catch a shower and make breakfast.”

“Waffles?” The hopeful tone in Cole’s voice made him laugh.

“Yeah, why the hell not.”

“I’m going to do one last sweep of the immediate area before I come in.”

“Be careful,” he told Cole.

“You sense something?”

Gator rubbed the back of his neck. “Yes. Maybe.”

“Good enough. I’ll keep an eye out.” Cole shifted back into his wolf and padded off. Gator took a deep breath to calm himself and opened the door.

Sylvie woke from the most wonderful dream. She had a smile on her face when she stretched her arms over her head. The covers slipped away, revealing that she was naked.

She lowered her arms and yanked the covers up. It hadn’t been a dream. Gator had really come to her last night. He’d touched her everywhere, bringing her the greatest pleasure imaginable.

She shivered, drew her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. How did she feel about that? Excited and scared to death at the same time. Hopeful too.

She couldn’t read anything into what happened. Gator was a good man. He’d come to the room to wake her from her nightmare and in the dark of the night things had gotten out of hand. There was no denying the chemistry between them.

Yes, that sounded like a totally adult explanation.

Then why did she feel disappointed and have an ache in her chest. Did she want last night to mean more?

She gave a growl of frustration, threw back the covers and climbed out of bed. To clear her head, she needed a shower and coffee. All her luggage was stacked in one corner of the room. She dug out clean clothes, her shampoo and comb and headed to the bathroom.

Sylvie didn’t bother to look at herself in the mirror and headed straight for the shower. She turned on the spray and stepped beneath it as soon as it heated. After years of efficiency apartments with economy-sized shower stalls and stingy spray, it was an absolute pleasure to stand in the roomy shower and feel the water beating down on her.

She simply pushed all her worries to one side and enjoyed the moment. Compartmentalizing was something she was very good at. After she washed her hair, she grabbed the bar of soap from the shelf and rubbed it over her skin. Big mistake. The soap smelled earthy and fresh, just like Gator.

She groaned as her nipples pebbled and a throbbing started low in her belly. She ignored it as best she could and hurried her shower, which wasn’t fair, considering how much she’d been enjoying it. When she rinsed off, she made a mental note to dig out her own soap before she tried the shower again.

She turned off the water and grabbed one of the thick, fluffy towels that hung on a rod next to the stall. It wrapped all the way around her, allowing her to tuck in the ends over her breasts. She grabbed another towel to use on her hair.

Being clean made her feel more alert and steady. The mirror was steamed and she didn’t bother to wipe it away. She did pop open the bathroom door to allow it to dissipate faster. A dryer sat on the vanity. She combed out her wet hair and quickly dried it before braiding it into a long tail.

The mirror was clear now. She leaned on the counter and stared at her reflection. She didn’t look any different. There was nothing to indicate she’d spent part of the night being pleasured by a man. Good. The last thing she needed was questions, especially ones she didn’t have any answers to.

She pulled on a pair of capri pants and a short-sleeved blouse over her underwear. It was casual but looked nice. A part of her wanted to look nice, and not just so she could impress her brother and his mate.

Gator. All her thoughts eventually came back to him. The man was making her crazy.

She gathered her dirty clothes and her comb and took everything back to the bedroom. She put the soiled clothes in a plastic bag and placed her comb back in the bag with her small supply of makeup.

Shampoo. She detoured back to the bathroom, hung the towels to dry and made sure everything was in its place before she snagged her shampoo. That went back into her bag as well. She hadn’t unpacked anything. A part of her expected to be leaving. To have a permanent home with her only remaining family seemed almost too good to be true. She kept expecting the rug to be pulled out from under her.

“Stop it,” she scolded herself. She had to stop thinking this way. She needed to be positive about the situation. Almost defiantly, she yanked her comb back out and slapped it down on Gator’s dresser. She stared at the small wooden implement and almost stuffed it back into her bag.

A low knocking sound turned her attention from the comb. She inhaled, as much to calm her nerves as to see who it was. She slid her feet into a cheap pair of canvas sneakers. “Coming.” She tugged at the hem of her blouse and hoped she looked confident.

Opening the door, she smiled at her brother’s mate. “Good morning, Anny.”

Anny smiled back at her. “I heard the shower running and thought I’d let you know that breakfast is ready. Gator made waffles.”

The mention of his name had her stomach flip-flopping. “Sounds good.” She really had to get a hold of herself.

Something brushed against her leg, startling her. She jerked back and looked down to find a large black cat staring up at her. He meowed as if to ask her what her problem was. She’d forgotten all about the cats.

“Seymour,” Anny scolded. “You have to give Sylvie a chance to get used to you.” She bent down and scratched the cat between the ears. It began to purr. Loudly. “Sorry about that. He’s gotten used to being spoiled by everyone here.”

“No, I’m sorry.” Sylvie regained her composure and smiled. “It’s just hard to get used to the idea that two cats live with all these werewolves.” She bent forward and held out her hand, ridiculously pleased when the cat nudged it before backing away.

“They were timid at first, but they’ve long since gotten over that. They’ll get used to you in no time.” Anny straightened and put her hand on Sylvie’s arm. “I’m so glad you’re here. You have no idea how much it means to Armand that you’re alive and well and with us.”

Sylvie swallowed heavily, touched by Anny’s kindness. “Thank you.”

“I don’t know about you, but I could use some coffee.” Anny led the way and Sylvie followed. The cat ran on ahead of them and jumped on the back of the sofa where his buddy was already stretched out.

This pack was much different from the one she’d grown up with. Mistrust, solidifying your own position and gaining power was the name of the game back in Louisiana. This group was more like the kind of pack she’d always dreamed of belonging to when she was a child. One where people looked out for each other and shared.