Dark Wolf Rising

“You arrogant bastard,” she seethed in a choked voice, the angry, electric pulses of her rage slamming against him, filling the interior of the truck. It made her scent thicker…richer, till he was damn near ready to howl from this unusual craving he had for her. “Just who in the hell do you think you are?”

“I’m the man who’s trying to keep your crazy little ass in one piece, no matter how determined you are to put it in danger.”

“That’s insane!” she burst out. “Are you out of your freaking mind?”

Was he? It certainly felt like it. This whole night felt like a certain kind of madness. If she’d been his destined life mate, then yeah, he could see getting this worked up over her. But she wasn’t. Hell, she wasn’t even a Lycan.

Instead, she was something soft and breakable, and Eric shuddered. He might be his father’s son, but he did not get off on hatred or pain. He wanted this woman badly. Wanted her under him, pinned, at his mercy. But once he got her there, hurting her wasn’t what would drive him. No, he wanted to smash through those damn prickly walls of hers and break her open. Wanted her sweating and clawing and screaming with pleasure, as animalistic in her passion as he—

“Seriously, Eric. Why are you doing this?” Her voice was tight, vibrating with tension as it cut into his thoughts. “It doesn’t make any sense. You don’t even know me.”

He wanted to argue, to tell her how wrong she was. They might be strangers, and she might not be one of those women who loved to gush about themselves, but he was learning more about her with each second that went by. More about himself, too.

But she was right about it not making any sense. Thankfully, a Travelodge sign appeared up on the left, and while it wasn’t the Ritz, at least Eric knew she’d be safe there.

The second he pulled into the crowded lot and parked the truck, she reached for the door, but he latched on to her arm, curling his fingers around the soft swell of her biceps. He was careful not to hurt her, but kept his grip tight enough that she couldn’t break away. Before she could lash out at him with that wicked tongue of hers, he said, “I’m getting you a room.”

She drew in a deep breath, as if searching for patience, and he tried like hell to ignore the way the sharp movement pressed her nipples against her shirt. Tried…but didn’t exactly succeed, since it was obvious she wasn’t wearing a bra.

“No, you’re not.” She glared at him as if he was something slimy that had crawled out of the drain. “You’re not getting me anything. Do you understand?”

“Damn it, Chelsea. This isn’t the time to be stubborn. Pride isn’t going to keep you safe. It’s going to get you hurt. I get that you hate to accept help from anyone, especially a man, but just let me get you a room and we’ll chalk it up to an even trade for the fact that I kicked you off the damn mountain in the first place.”

“We already did that with the ride to town. And the work being done on my bus.”

“And this is just another part of what I owe you. Not the other way around. I swear.”

She wasn’t buying it, but he could feel the starch go out of her as she leaned back against the seat. Her breath soughed softly past her lips, their smooth surface glossy and pink and undeniably tempting. There was a danger there, the same way you weren’t meant to stare too long at the sun. A beautiful view, but one you paid for with pain. Somehow, he managed to force himself to lift his gaze back to the dark, stormy blue of her eyes, and for a moment he wondered if she was actually going to say thank-you.

But, really, he should have known better.

“You know, Eric, it’s high-handed, arrogant jerks like you who give your sex a bad name.”

“Whatever. Just wait here,” he grated, choking back his own anger as he climbed out of the truck. Christ, she had to be the most mule-headed woman on the planet!

A chime dinged as Eric jerked open one of the double doors at the entrance to the hotel, and a young guy behind the registration desk looked up from the comic book he was reading. “What’s up?” he asked, staring at Eric from behind a pair of thick reading glasses.

“I need a room, just for tonight.”

The transaction took longer than he would have liked, considering the guy moved as slow as molasses. Eric signed for the room with an impatient scrawl and grabbed up the card key, heading back out to the truck as quickly as possible, his breath jerking from his lungs with a sharp burst of relief when he spotted her through the passenger-side window. He’d half expected her to make a run for it—and was thankful she wasn’t that impulsive. Or maybe she just wasn’t done chewing him out yet.

Opening her door, he offered his hand, which she refused, glaring at it like it was some kind of insult. Instead, she hopped down from the seat without his help, careful to keep her body from brushing against his, though they stood so close he could have easily leaned down and pressed his lips against the top of her head. When she’d first climbed out of her bus, he’d been surprised by how petite she was, his height making him feel like a damn giant beside her. And yet, she wasn’t scrawny. She was, in fact, deliciously proportioned, with a soft, curvaceous figure that made his mouth water, especially when it was so perfectly displayed by the hip-hugging jeans and that soft T-shirt. She kept tugging at its low neckline, as if wishing for more fabric to cover that delectable, shadowy view of her cleavage. Given her actions, Eric guessed she probably only wore the thing to sleep in, and hadn’t meant for anyone to see her in it.

And I was lying through my teeth about wanting to get rid of her.

Grabbing the oversized backpack she’d brought down with her, she hitched it onto her shoulder, then turned back toward him, grabbing the card key that he held out. He wondered if she had any idea how hard it was going to be for him to leave her, instead of following her into that hotel room, where he imagined a queen-size bed was waiting. He could see the possible scenario in his mind as clearly as if he were standing beside the bed, watching it happen. Watching his larger body, with its tensed muscles and sweat-slick skin, taking her to the flowered quilt. Spreading her beneath him. Pressing his lips to the smooth heat of her flesh. Taking the taste of her hot, slippery sex into his mouth, onto his tongue, where it could imprint upon his memory. Hearing her husky cries as she came from his touch. Sweet. Wild. Undone and unraveled and outrageously beautiful.

Clearing his throat, Eric finally managed to scrape out some words. “The room number is 263. I’ll have your bus brought here first thing in the morning, so that by the time you’re up and ready to go, she’ll be waiting. The keys will be left at the front desk for you.”

“Fine,” she murmured, rubbing her thumb against the smooth surface of the card key. Her gaze slid away, over the nondescript front of the hotel, then cut back up to him. “I appreciate the ride, the room and the fact that you’re getting my bus fixed—but, I meant what I said before. This doesn’t mean that I owe you anything.”

“Actually, I’ve changed my mind about that,” he told her, still fighting the urge to reach out, grab her and pull her against his chest…against his body. He wanted to know the feel of her, the heat. Wanted to have her unique scent wrapped around him, seeping into his pores. But it couldn’t happen.

Instead, he had to do whatever it took to make her see reason.

Her slim brows knitted with irritation. “Excuse me?”

“You owe me your word that after you get your little ass up in the morning, you’ll get it the hell out of town.”

Her eyes rounded with a mixture of shock and indignation. “You can’t force me to leave Wesley, Eric. Your mountain, maybe. But not this town. You don’t have any power here.”

He stepped even closer, scowling down at her, and forced himself to deliver the words he was hoping would save her life. “You stay, and you’re likely to end up dead. Listen to what I’m telling you, Chelsea, and don’t argue for the sake of your grating little Miss Independent routine. Go home, and go back to work. Collect your paychecks, pay your mortgage on that condo you just bought and take care of yourself. When your sister wizens up, she’ll come crawling back. But if you keep digging into things at that club, keep wandering around by yourself up in those mountains, you’re the one who’s going to end up in trouble.”

Finally, he could see a shadow of fear creeping into her rigid expression. “Just what exactly is up there?”

He gave a hard, brief shake of his head. “Nothing you need to know about.”

The scowl on his face would have terrified most men, but she simply glared right back at him. “So I should just be a good little girl and take your advice?”

“You will take it, if you know what’s good for you.”

“And if I don’t?”

“You probably won’t be around long enough for me to say I told you so. The best thing you can do is leave.”

Her fingers tightened around the strap of her bag until her knuckles turned white. “How is that the best thing, when it means leaving my sister in the hands of this stranger and not caring about what happens to her?”

In a slightly gentler tone, he said, “I didn’t say it was easy.”

She blinked up at him, staring into his eyes with a sharp, intense focus, as if she knew there was more…something important he wasn’t telling her. Taking a receipt from his pocket, Eric reached around her, into the truck, and grabbed a pen from the center console, then handed them to her. “Give me your mobile number.”

“What for?” she asked with a heavy dose of suspicion.

“I’ll look into some things, and if I do happen to run across your sister, I’ll call you.”

She hesitated for a moment, then quickly wrote down her number. With a slow shake of her head, she handed the slip of paper back to him. “You’re so sure I’m going to do what you say, aren’t you?”

“You’d be an idiot not to,” he muttered, shoving the receipt back in his pocket. “And I have a feeling you’re anything but.”

She absorbed his words with a small nod, studying him for a moment longer, then shook her head again and held out her hand. Eric took it, closing his hard, roughened fingers around the tender softness of hers. It was a small, endlessly feminine hand, not bony, just cushioned and lovely and sweet. He wanted to pull it to his body and press it against his skin. Feel it hold him where he was hard…feel it grip him…the unwanted need making him restless, angry. With another scowl pulling between his brows, he released her chilled hand and took a hasty step back, hating the urgent feeling prickling beneath his skin. She was like a rash that he needed to shake, before the damn thing spread.

“Well, goodbye, Eric Drake,” she said huskily, hitching the backpack higher on her shoulder. “It was certainly…interesting.”

Eric gave her a jerky nod and clenched his jaw as she turned toward the hotel, walking away from him with a tired, but proud, confident stride. When he realized his gaze had snagged on the way those low-rise jeans hugged her ass, he muttered a blistering curse. Heading around to the driver-side of the truck, he quickly climbed behind the wheel and made his way back onto the road, gunning the engine.

He might not like it, but the truth couldn’t be ignored.

No matter what demons she faced on her own, Chelsea Smart was a hell of a lot better off without him.