Bending Steele (13 page)

No, she was thicker. Still slender, but with
muscle and weight to her. A solidity he was more used to seeing in
lionesses. Dirt smeared her cheeks, and her hair was a tousled mess
of the reddest rust he’d ever seen. Several tendrils had fallen
loose from a knot on the top of her head, and they dangled just out
of reach. He itched to reach out and touch, to test the silk of it
against his fingertips.

Shit. Now, he was every bit as smitten with
her as Kanon.

She’d agreed to let them prove it, and now he
was thinking about running his hand through that long, long hair.
Yeah. She’d just as soon break his hand as let him do that.

Tegan caught Kanon’s eye, his partner giving
him an impish grin, and Tegan couldn’t help but smile back. Kanon
was a natural flirt, a joker, especially under stress. It was how
he coped. Tegan opened his mouth to stop his partner, but Kanon
beat him. With a gesture to Lennox’s dirt-stained outfit, Kanon
said, “You can’t wear that where we’re going.”

Tegan covered his smile with a small cough.
He gestured towards her dirt-stained outfit. “You can’t wear that
where we’re going.”

“Bullshit I can’t.”

The muscle in her jaw flexed, tense, and he
could see the warpath opening up between them. Damn, the woman
would do battle with just about anything if a man riled her right.
And the more stressed Kanon was the more buttons he tended to push.
Tegan winced as Kanon snatched a strand of that hair, knowing damn
well Kanon might be blowing everything. But at the same time, Tegan
couldn’t quite blame him. He couldn’t say he’d be acting any better
if there was a chance he’d be staring down a silver bullet
tonight.

And Tegan wanted to know what her hair felt
like. For the night to feel normal.

Club Metro would let just about anyone in as
long as they were wearing clothes, but Tegan wanted to see her
without the dirt, in clean clothes, with all that hair loosely
draped over her shoulders. Actually, he’d have liked to meet her
without the possibility of Kanon getting arrested looming overhead.
It was hard not to like her and if things went bad she wasn’t going
to walk away.

Not when she caught Kanon’s hand, so ready to
fight. He’d invaded her space and damn, but she didn’t yield an
inch. But it was more than that. She didn’t berate Kanon for
touching her hair, didn’t suddenly decide to go back to trying to
arrest him. She held her ground, almost as if she’d already figured
out that he was just dealing with the situation the best way he
could. Laugh or cry, right?

Tegan let out a low rumble, almost akin to a
purr, and stepped closer, trapping her between them and the dining
room. She could run, but she’d have to back down for that. Lennox
Donnelly looked like she’d rather shoot them both first.

But she was still trying to be the nice
Hound. “I thought you wanted help.”

Kanon looked her up and down from head to
toe. “You’re filthy. Your hair is a mess. You have dirt smudged on
your cheeks.”

Kanon licked a finger and reached out to swab
a spot when she jerked back, a laugh floating from her.

“Is that your game? Seduce the Hound meant to
drag you in?”

“No, Tegan actually intends to take you to
the bar.”

Her gaze flitted back to Kanon. “And
you?”

Kanon lifted his shoulders in a shrug, his
grin growing wider. “We can go to the bar.”

“We are going to the bar. Unless your
witnesses are fake. If that’s the case, then we’re all going down
to Enforcement.”

“They’re real,” Tegan whispered, heard the
warmth in his own voice. She didn’t have to do this, didn’t have to
tolerate any of this, and for a moment, he really thought of
stopping Kanon. But hell, if the shit hit the fan tonight, he’d be
damned if he didn’t get something good out of the night too. He
reached forward and snatched a piece of her hair, giving it a small
tug. “Then you should probably clean up. I can show you to the
bathroom.”

Her death glare would have been enough to
make most men cower. It only turned Tegan on more. “I’m going as
is.”

Fighting back a laugh, Tegan let her hair go
with a shrug. “Might as well roll you in a few mud puddles
first.”

Kanon snorted. “Or dump her down a manhole
along the way.”

“She does stink a little.”

“Like wet dog.” Kanon edged closer, his hand
finding the back of her neck just as she flattened her palm against
his chest. A smile touched her lips, half amused, half warning.

“All right. Enough. Where’s the
bathroom?”

That was something Tegan had no problem
showing her. They scooted her up the stairs and into the guest
bathroom, even letting her shut the door and lock them out. He
didn’t think for one second she’d run. She wasn’t the
tuck-tail-and-bolt kind of girl.

Tegan shook his head at the sound of the lock
turning over, and with it, the night’s earlier play and joking
faded, hard reality flooding back in. He glanced at Kanon. “She has
the patience of a fucking saint.”

Tegan watched the lines around Kanon’s eyes
deepen as his partner looked away, stress no doubt eating at him.
“Hey. Don’t. Tristan, Caro, the staff, they’ll clear you.”

“You think it’ll be enough for her?”

He hoped so. Tegan glanced back at the closed
door between them and the Hound. He’d come too damn close to losing
Kanon tonight, and the thought left him hollow. Exhausted.

“I think we have the best shot with her. No
other Hound would have let you get away with half that shit.”

“It was stupid.” But Kanon smiled anyway, a
tight, worn smile, but one nonetheless. Kanon closed the distance
between them and wrapped his arms around Tegan’s waist, holding him
tight.

“We got lucky,” Tegan murmured, knowing damn
well Lennox could hear everything. “Though you should probably stop
the stress flirting.”

“Maybe.” Kanon pressed a kiss to the crook of
his neck, then trailed several more across his collarbone, nipping
over his pulse.

“Kanon,” Tegan whispered, his voice drying up
as Kanon leaned in to steal a kiss. The tap water in the bathroom
stopped.

Kanon pulled back “I figure in case she
reneges on our deal and turns me in, I might as well get you one
last time.”

“It’s not going to happen.”

“Having you, or her breaking the deal?”

“She won’t break her word.” Tegan pressed a
kiss to the corner of Kanon’s lips. “And you always have me.”

Kanon gave a satisfied groan, and cuddled
closer.

“You are not screwing each other outside this
door.”

Tegan smiled. They probably had given her
that impression.

Kanon called out, teasing, “Not yet, honey,
care to join?”

Tegan closed his eyes and shook his head, but
he could feel Kanon tensing, reality creeping back in, and he bit
back the lecture.

“I would rather jump out the window. Put your
pants on so I can come out.”

“Damn,” Kanon said. “Reckon we should take
them off first?”

The bathroom door jerked open and Lennox
stumbled straight into them, catching herself on their shoulders.
Lennox gave a small growl, stepping back, startled. “You all have
no sense of...” Her voice died in her throat and she turned away,
lips pursed. “Let’s go to the bar. Now.”

Lennox stepped around them both and headed
for the stairs. “I’ll meet you at my car. It’s by the billboard for
that new grocery store in town. Behind a few bushes. And I’ll be
watching, so don’t try and run.”

Her sultry tone turned dark, as she glanced
between them, and then met Tegan’s gaze. She’d heard everything. “I
hope you’re right and you can clear your partner’s name.”

A shadow slipped over her face as she headed
down the stairs.

Tegan’s gut twisted.

She hadn’t looked very confident.

Now Available

Resisting Velocity by Xoe Xanders and Trinity
Evans

Chapter One

He lived for this, the roar of the crowd,
girls screaming their names, holding up huge poster board signs
with bold letters and glitter. The pulse of Micah’s drums behind
him, all staccato beats and the crash of the cymbals. The
rock-steady rhythm of the bass, strings plucked by Benji’s deft
fingers. And the weight of the Fender in his grip, fingers pressing
against frets as he spiraled into a solo that would’ve given
Lucifer himself a run for his money—if the devil was the frontman
of a rock band.

The lyrics leapt forward like powerful
horses, led by the siren’s call of the music, and somewhere in his
throat they went from simple words to something beautiful, his
voice husky and soft in the echo of the microphone. He crooned the
words and he could’ve sworn a woman in the front row fainted.
Cocky, sure, but it was true.

Zane Alexander knew how to sing, and sing
well. The music thundered around him, shooting straight through to
his veins, stronger than any street drug. His nostrils flared at
the tinge of sweat dripping from the crowd, wolf senses heightened
by adrenaline. In that moment, he was a sponge, absorbing the pulse
of body heat and the zing of excitement. Their band—his beautiful
brain child—was selling, and selling well. High Velocity’s second
album had gone double platinum in a matter of days. Their Kiss and
Tell tour was sold out.

His heartbeat was a steady thump-thump in his
chest, a blend of pride and excitement nearly burning him alive.
His spirit was floating around somewhere up on cloud nine. It was
amazing, being the top dog—something Zane had only ever achieved in
his dreams.

Their final song dwindled down to gentle
acoustics before ending with the shrill of an electric guitar, loud
enough to make his ears ring. The crowd screamed as the lights
dimmed and a haze of fog spread across the stage like ghostly
fingers, reaching for them. Under the mask of darkness, the members
of High Velocity bounded backstage, adrenaline still riding them
hard.

“You kicked ass tonight, man.” Micah Tate’s
beefy hand slapped down on Zane’s shoulder, drawing a grin and a
chuckle out of the other man. Zane handed his guitar off to the
only assistant he trusted to take care of the custom Fender.

“We
all
did. We really blew them away.
Another damn-near perfect performance, if I do say so myself.”

“Cocky.”

“True.” Zane’s lips quirked into a lopsided
grin. He ran a hand through his hair and spun around in a tight
circle. Excitement burned through him and he yearned for a run,
yearned for release. He set his jaw and shook it off.
Not yet.
Be patient.
The beast that slumbered deep within his soul, a
beautiful white wolf that was his second half, twisted beneath his
skin.
Patience is a virtue.
But one look around his band
mates—his fellow pack mates—told Zane that the other werewolves
were just as eager to stretch their legs as he was.

“Whaddaya say, Zane?” Parker Wilde’s voice
made him glance up. The keyboardist’s long fingers tapped
impatiently on the edge of a Coke can and Zane tilted his head.
Parker sighed, as if exasperated. “Expensive booze and cheap girls
after the big romp tonight? Let loose and celebrate a little?”

“Like we don’t do it enough?” Benji gave a
hoot and pumped his fist, his bass still slung around his neck. He
was a little paranoid in that regard. He always put his instrument
away himself; he didn’t even trust Zane with it. “I’m in.”

“In,” agreed Micah.

The three of them turned to look at Zane,
expectant, waiting. They looked up to him, followed his lead. Maybe
it was the fact that his parents were the alphas of Elysium Pack,
that Zane himself was their named heir to the throne whenever he
was ready to step up and take it. Even if he had no desire to lead
anything besides leading High Velocity to fame and fortune.

But how could he say no to good alcohol and
beautiful women? A slow grin spread across his face. “In,” he said
and the guys crowed. Zane held up a hand. “And I’ll even buy, how’s
that?” Another round of cheers.

“Besides, I heard Lola was looking for you.”
Parker winked in an exaggerated way.

Oh, Lola… Innocent flair, blonde ringlet
curls, and all that smooth, pale skin. No man could forget a face
like Lola’s, but while she had him locked in her sights, he was
interested in someone else. He’d always been interested in someone
else.

Women were Zane’s not-so-secret pleasure. He
loved them. All shapes and sizes, all colors and races; black hair,
brown hair—it didn’t matter. If they had curves and a nice ass,
they were fair game, and the best part of being a rock star was
that the women loved him just as much as he loved them. It was
win-win.

Except that none of them filled the spot that
Charlie did, with those baby-blue eyes, cool and confident, and
that mane of thick black curls, always stuffed up in a prim little
bun, always daring him to tug at it, stroke it… He shook his head,
warring with his thoughts.

As the guys turned to go off in different
directions, amped about the following evening, Zane moved to do the
same. Yet…something stopped him. A whiff of the air, and over the
smell of the fog maker and the sweat lingering there, he breathed
her in. Wildflowers and blueberries, she was beautiful, unique,
wolf…

And oh so untouchable. She’d made that part
clear as day.

He craned his neck, his wolf suddenly alert
and aware, and his nostrils flared. “Wait.” The one word rumbled
from him as he raised a hand. Parker stopped first, but then they
turned, looking to him. He took another breath in, want making him
damn near crazy. She’d appear, any minute now.

Zane was content to wait.

***

Just one night.

Just one blessed night without having to
listen to the screams of the crowd, of raging fans and groupies
alike, shouting the guys’ names like it would make a difference
this time, like it would make High Velocity look their way. It was
driving her damn near crazy.