How to Tame a Werewolf: Seven Brides for Seven Shifters, Book 3 (7 page)

Chapter Eight

The first time she woke up, Rue blamed an oncoming hangover for the fog in her head. Then she realized the swaying motion of walking had discombobulated her. One look around proved she was moving at an even gait down East Wampler Street, yet all four of her limbs were floating limply in midair.

A prickle of stubble rubbed her cheek and she realized she had her arms thrown over
his
shoulders. Only his muscular arms and strong back kept her from falling. He’d picked her up to carry her home, piggyback style. Absolutely amazing. Where had this man come from? He’d helped her out of three bad situations like some kind of hard knock life genie, and then he’d created a pathway for her current situation to her dream job. In return she’d given him nothing but trouble.

The memory of blood pouring down his head slammed into her. She’d knocked him off the bridge. Because of her he could’ve drowned in a pond. She’d be damned if she turned this man into another casualty of caring for her. It took a couple of tries but Rue finally managed an un-garbled, “Are you okay, Magic Man?”

He looked up at her using his peripheral vision and his eyes crinkled at the corners with amusement. “Is that my new nickname?”

“Don’t be nice to me,” she whispered, more than a little horrified that she’d nearly cracked his skull open.

“Why wouldn’t I be nice to you, Rue? You healed me,” Magic Man said. He bounced her a little to encourage her.

“Don’t…” she said. She didn’t want to think about those occasional bouts of healing ability she’d developed when she hit puberty. She gained the ability before she’d left her parents’ home at sixteen but too late to save her brother. The fact she’d saved Magic Man today didn’t make up for the fact he’d needed healing because she’d hurt him. “Don’t be kind. Yell at me instead. I deserve it,” she said.

He stopped and turned to her as much as he could with her on his back. “I’m too fascinated by you to yell right now.” He started walking again. “Maybe later.”

She buried her face in his thick dark chocolate hair and sniffled.

He paused for a millisecond but continued on. After a few steps he bounced her again and said, “You win. Okay? I’ll start calling you
Rue
lla De Vil.”

She snorted into his hair and felt him smile in the way his cheekbones lifted against her skin.

“Which means I’ll have to hide all my Dalmatians,” he said, moving past a few shops that turned on their lights in time to the coming dusk.

Magic Man howled.

“What are you doing?” she gasped.

He howled again before he answered. “I’m warning off the one hundred and one Dalmatians in my acquaintance.”

Since Rue was tired, a little tipsy, and so very grateful to him, she joined his silliness.

“No, don’t warn them away. Give me all the puppies,” she said, making grabby hands in the air. A jolt of mischief hit her and she grinned as she finished with, “So I can feed them to a cat!” Then she giggled maniacally and it was his turn to snort.

It shouldn’t have surprised her with all the things this magic man could do, but it shocked her when he burst into a full medley of villainous theme songs from Disney movies, beginning with, “Ruella De Vil, Ruella De Vil. If she doesn’t scare you, no evil thing will.” Rue loved every note from each of those tunes, so she joined in.

At the end of “Friends on the Other Side” from
The Princess and the Frog
they quieted into a lovely silence as they bounced along.

Piggyback rides were bliss. Or maybe that only pertained to the Magic Man and having his lean, muscular body gripped between your thighs. Rue wondered why anyone would hop on a horse when riding a magical man made you feel so good.

If anyone asked why she did it, she’d blame the wine. Rue couldn’t resist stroking a fingertip over the rugged lines of his face. “You’re pretty cool, Magic Man. I bet you’re a better Ian than the real one is. I like you. I like you a lot.” She yawned. “That’s why you’ve got to go.”

Magic Man snorted again. “Is that right?”

“Yeah,” she said, yawning a second time.

As a kid, Rue had made up all sorts of songs. Her mother said she’d find a topic that interested her and off she’d go. Rue didn’t know why that moment brought the songs back to her but she started singing one written for the Magic Man.

“You’re magic

You’re a wonder

Just like the great Kazzam

Get out now

Go poof, dear

Or my heart will go kablam

Slammed, for this…mah-ha-gic maaahn”

Ian smiled again. The expression caressed her cheek and Rue sighed, reveling in the warm smoothness of him and in the way his muscles bunched and rippled as he moved beneath her.

“I’m loving your voice,” he said. “Sing it again.” But her eyes had already closed as she slipped into blessed black.

The second time Rue woke up, grogginess in the form of hazy vision and a gurgling in her stomach greeted her. She lifted her head, peered at her apartment, and lay back down immediately. All the lights were on and the sun hadn’t come up yet. All in all she had no complaints. She’d made it home to the comfort of her couch. Plus, her pillow was firm and warm and kind of perfect. So she rested, listening to its heartbeat.

If she hadn’t been a bit tipsy it wouldn’t have taken her as long to realize pillows don’t have pulses and therefore shouldn’t have heartbeats.

This time she lifted off the hard chest and turned her head. Her skull weighed too much. More than hung over, she felt spent. As though she’d burned through all her energy in a single blaze. But one look at the sleeping face she’d snuggled up to and she recharged. Her pulse picked up and she went breathless at the same time.

“He sleeps,” she said, glancing down at the body splayed beneath her with one long lean leg hanging off the couch.

How could this magic man be so perfect and so wild simultaneously? Once again she marveled at how much he resembled Ian Somers and, by contrast, how different the two men were. The pad of her thumb traced his pronounced brow. On another man it might’ve been weighty. On him it was expressive. Moving on, she stroked his eyebrows. The thick hair, arched at the outside corners of his eyes, tickled her fingertips. Afraid she’d wake him, Rue skimmed over the fringe of his lashes and instead ran her index finger down the bridge and up the tip of his rather aristocratic nose. Smiling, she tapped the dimple at the top of his lips a few times.

This was the part of his face that diverged most from Ian Somers’s features. Magic Man had a much sterner jawline. She’d called it rugged before and that remained the best description. Her gaze traveled along his jaw and settled on his chin, the scar in it acting as a lure for her touch. Rather than mar his handsome looks, the scar accentuated his masculinity. Here slept a man who’d been through a hard time and had come out of the other side with his kindness and his determination intact.

“What are you staring at?” His husky voice rumbled.

Rue didn’t balk at his sudden intrusion into her thoughts or at the hands he snaked around her waist, his fingers twining together to rest on the small of her back. Thus he held her firm, the full length of their bodies pressed together. If she wanted to climb off him she’d missed her chance. Good thing she didn’t want to.

She gazed into his amber eyes, then down at his jaw. “This scar on your chin,” she traced the thin pale line with a fingertip, “is very…”

“What?” he asked, and that sexy eye-smile came back full force.

She stretched in his embrace, enjoying the way his strong arms encircled her and made her feel safe. “Your scar is rugged. It kind of makes me think of adventures.” She paused, deciding to say what she meant. “It’s very Indiana Jones,” she murmured.

Magic Man stretched too, his hard thighs and hips undulating beneath her. “Problem?” he asked.

She mumbled her response, her attention focused on his lower lip. “More like an addiction.”

His eyes sparkled, blossoming from amber into full blue. Rue gasped at the sudden transformation. Temptation overtook her and she gave in to the thing she’d wanted to do since he sat down at her diner booth. She leaned in and nipped that sweet bottom lip.

He tasted divine.

Shocked by her own impulsiveness she leaned back just as quickly. The corner of Magic Man’s mouth tilted up in a sensuous curve.

“I don’t usually sleep,” he said as his fingers slowly unclasped and his palms slid down to cup her hips.

“Neither do I. I’m a true insomniac.” she replied, trying her best not to moan when his fingers flexed, tapping her butt cheeks before he gripped them tight and rolled her body into his. The sensations made her weak and she dropped her forehead to rest on his chin. Without hesitation he kissed her between her brows, gently, demanding nothing, yet somehow stripping all resistance away.

Rue lifted enough to grab both sides of Magic Man’s face, her thumbs tracing the corners of his mouth. With the slightest turn of his head he sucked in her right thumb and took a long, sweet suckle.

“Ahhh,” she moaned. Her breasts began to ache, braless beneath her ruined T-shirt. Her nipples hardened, seeking his touch.

He sucked again, swirling his tongue around her thumb then scraping his teeth over the amazingly sensitive skin as he withdrew. Rue would’ve protested as the chilly air conditioning hit her throbbing thumb, but Magic Man pulled one side of her T-shirt down at the shoulder and grazed her bare flesh in another erotic bite. When he pulled back his eyes were neither blue nor amber but a gorgeous cross between the two—a sunburst of gold going supernova within the sapphire.

That did it. Rue fell back onto him with a throaty purr even the neighbors could hear. Claiming his mouth, she devoured that delectable bottom lip, tasting, teasing and nipping it. He tasted of good wine, like the first pressings she’d had way back when, at Somerfield Vineyard.

She lost herself in the kiss as he took over. One of his hands curved around the back of her neck and tangled in her curls, making her body grind into him as though she’d become a marionette under his command. He had more magic than she’d known; it permeated every part of him. His tongue made sparks explode behind her eyes at the same time his other hand found the juncture where her backside and thighs met and massaged her, breaking her apart into two spheres of pure pleasure and erotic anticipation.

If Magic Man didn’t stop he’d undo her, completely unravel her resolve. She’d forget everything—her redemption and her dreams—and she’d yield only to the pleasure. More than that, she’d yield to the promise of much more than pleasure. His hands and lips told her the two of them could have something beyond this experience, a gift more precious than any physical act. That promise hypnotized Rue and seduced her cat along with her. And because life hated her, had always hated her, the promise of more snapped Rue out of her pleasure.

If Magic Man gave her more, if she accepted his care and reciprocated it, their bond would destroy him. When Rue cared she ruined lives. She’d seen it happen enough times to know.

Undone by her thoughts, she pushed away from her Magic Man. Once she’d gotten on her feet, he rose to a sitting position. As always his expression clearly communicated his confusion, his amber within blue gaze questioned, “What’s wrong?”

Rue had no answers. She didn’t want her Magic Man to know she killed those she cared for. Shaking her head, she jogged to the bathroom and quietly closed the door. Then she locked it behind her.

Chapter Nine

Ian sat in the silence Rue insisted on. The cab driver tried to make conversation but although Rue remained polite she didn’t engage the punk rock mama. Rue gave Ian the same treatment. They’d barely spoken in the two days since she’d blown his mind with hot kisses on her couch.

He stroked the bridge of his nose, trying to figure out what had broken her out of their intimate moment the other night. Sure, he’d admit, neither of them expected to be magnetized to the other, as though their energies fell into complete alignment. He definitely hadn’t anticipated it. And like her, he hadn’t wanted to risk another romantic relationship. Now he wasn’t sure what he wanted. That was why he needed to talk things through with her. To try and understand her point of view so they could figure out what in the hell had ignited between them.

But Rue refused to talk. She remained silent when his mother had emailed instructions on the interview process she’d need to go through as a finalist for the
sommelier
position at The Grape Escape (who came up with that shitty name?). The same for when the courier dropped off an envelope containing two first-class tickets to Piedmont Triad International Airport and his driver’s license. Along with the tickets and the ID his mother had included a note commanding Rue to bring him home. He’d been relieved to hear Rue’s husky singer’s voice when she read the letter out loud. And he’d joked, “Guess you’re stuck with me, Kitty.” Only she hadn’t laughed.

Was that the problem? Did she feel trapped with him? She was the one who’d drawn him into this crazy scheme. He’d been happy to live as his feral, snarling wolf. Correction. He hadn’t been happy. He’d been content. He might’ve returned home on his own if Rue hadn’t shaken him up.

She seemed to begrudge his presence. Again she’d been the one who’d explored his face with her fingertips, her touch so tender he’d awakened feeling adored, wanted, needed. He hadn’t asked her to reawaken those emotions in him. He’d been fine in his self-imposed exile.

That’s what started to piss him off. He’d done nothing but help her since the moment they’d met. Maybe she hadn’t asked for his help in the beginning, but in the end, when it came down to the most important job interview of her life, she’d needed him. And he liked being needed. What the hell right did she have to resent him?

He should’ve been the one to get angry. She’d used him. Once she got what she needed she no longer wanted him around. The wolf pushed up to the surface and he growled low, in warning.

Rue turned from the window to look at him. “What’s wrong?”

She asked the question so softly, with such care, that it startled him.

“I—” he began. “Are you resenting me right now?”

“Yes,” she trembled a bit. “No, not you. I have rules, Magic Man. I have to follow them to accomplish my goals. That’s all. I’m not resenting you. I resent that I keep getting in my own way. I need to be tougher.”

He pondered her words as they passed the entry sign, turning into the airport. “I have my own rules too, you know?” Her eyes widened. She hadn’t expected that.

“Not only am I celibate, but I’m done with relationships other than familial and platonic.”

“You are?” she asked on an exhalation.

“Yeah.
You
touched
me
, remember?”

She pouted a bit, which was extremely cute. “You sucked my thumb!”

Their cab driver cackled, then blanched and apologized. “Which airline?”

“Delta.” Both Ian and Rue answered in tandem.

“I’m also worried,” Rue said. “There’s no way you’re going to convince Cora Somers you’re her son.” Rue turned her full body toward him. “No matter how similar the two of you look, you’re at least an inch taller and rougher around the edges. Biggest problem, even if the two of you were identical her nose would tell her the truth the second you got close enough.”

Rue doubted him. Why did that make him so fucking angry? She’d assessed the situation perfectly. If he weren’t the man, the legend, the real Ian Somers, Rue would be absolutely correct. His mother would sniff out an imposter and firmly implant her foot so far up that fake’s ass he’d taste the polish on her pedicure.

Rue’s doubts were reasonable. Ian’s angry response to her doubts wasn’t. “I told you I have a plan. It’ll work. Trust me, Rue. Can you do that?”

She paused. Her eyes searched his face for something she apparently didn’t find because she shook her head no. Her gesture held a world of sadness but in the end no matter how much she wanted to, she didn’t trust him.

Ian growled again. She patted his thigh but didn’t apologize. The cab rolled to a stop at the departure entrance. While Rue paid for their trip Ian hopped out and began jerking her luggage from the trunk and onto the curb. Ian didn’t have luggage. He had one shirt and one pair of pants, bought yesterday to replace the ones he’d split. Rue had spent too much on the Hudson denim but she’d said the fit suited him.

Once they arrived in LuPines he’d pay her back. Further, he’d train her to be the best
sommelier
in their industry. Maybe then she’d stop doubting and start believing in him.

When he grabbed her orange handbag he also noticed an envelope wedged under it inside the trunk. Ian picked both up and Rue snatched them away. He eyed her, baring his teeth. Looking ashamed for her hasty action she murmured an apology. Ian knew he’d missed something between their kiss and now but he couldn’t put the pieces together.

They entered the cool, desert hued airport side by side; Rue said she’d go check in her bags. Ian nodded and chose a seat to wait in. Unexpected excitement made him jittery. He actually wanted to get home and see his pack. The cubs who’d been newborns when he left would be toddling around, getting into everything now. And his mother…she’d give him that old money stare of disdain, say something biting, then grip his face and hug him close to her. Ian couldn’t wait. He’d missed his family, his pack, his town and he’d missed the vines. The smell of ripening grapes had brought him peace in his old life. He hoped to find that peace again.

“Where are you headed?” a father of three asked. Ian glanced at the man to see two of his cubs running around the row of chairs while the mom wiped the nose of the third.

“LuPines, North Carolina,” Ian said. “Heard of it?”

“I haven’t. Nice place?” the father asked.

The question unexpectedly took Ian back to his life on the vineyard. He’d been happy most of that time. Better than that, he’d had a great life, the kind people wished for and/or worked their lives to attain. He chuffed, feeling good about his decision to help Rue and subsequently to go home. With that thought in mind he answered the father’s question. “The best.”

The father nodded. “It’s always good to go home.”

Ian echoed the nod and turned to look for Rue. He was ready to get going. An attendant dressed in a Delta uniform approached him. “Are you the Magic Man?” she asked and nearly giggled.

“I am him,” Ian said with a wink.

“Then this is for you,” she said, handing over the same envelope Rue had been carrying. Only now the manila front had his nickname sprawled across it. The first inkling of foreboding hit Ian. He quickly searched the terminal with both his senses of sight and smell for a hint of Rue. She’d been there but she’d gone beyond check in. Confused he ripped into the envelope and read the letter she must have printed and signed before they’d left her apartment.

Magic Man,

You’ll find the key to my apartment in this envelope. My rent is paid up for the next six months and the apartment is yours for that time. Whether I get the job or not I plan to stay in LuPines and find a way to reach my goals.

I’ve also left you my savings. It’s not much, $2,000, but it took me a long time to save up and you deserve it. Hopefully the apartment and the money will help you get on your feet. You’re brilliant and you’re wonderful. Please don’t go back to living on the streets.

I’ve taken Ian Somers’s driver’s license with me. It wouldn’t be right to leave it with you since he might come home one day.

I’ve also taken the bottle of 1993 Somerfield Reserve. I’m not going back on my promise. Not at all. The bottle is yours. I just want to hold onto it for a little longer. It has a lot of emotional symbolism for me and I don’t think I can let it go until I find my place at Somerfield. That’s why I’ve also left you my mailbox key. In a few months I will mail the bottle back to you. Although you’ve only seen lies and deception from me, you can count on that.

I wanted to bring you with me. I just couldn’t risk it. They’d know you aren’t him the minute they see you and I’m too close to lose my chance now. I’m sorry, Magic Man. But one day soon I will send you a ticket to LuPines and I hope you’ll decide to come visit me. Please believe in me for a little longer. I keep my promises, eventually, and I’d like to truly be your friend one day. You matter to me. You have to trust that.

Yours hopefully,

Rue (lla De Vil)

Ian’s hands shook. He checked the other contents of the envelope. Rue left him two keys, two thousand dollars in cash, and an IOU for one bottle of 1993 Somerfield Reserve. If he wasn’t so enraged he might’ve been able to appreciate her gesture. Instead, he felt the blood rushing into his ears. Ian may have understood the logic behind her decision if his wolf weren’t howling, his claws ripping through the paper, as he realized he’d been left behind again.

But rage consumed him, the hot whoosh of blood filled his ears and the shredded letter fell to the floor in tatters. Ian didn’t give a fuck about logic. He wanted to find her and force her to recognize that he mattered more than she’d shown him. And he would too. He’d track her down and she’d beg him for forgiveness. But he wouldn’t give it to her. No…he’d make her feel every ounce of rage that flooded him at this moment, while he stood alone, again. Abandoned.

“I told you I could sense him,” said a voice Ian didn’t expect to hear in Arizona.

“You did. And we got him. Your kind has freaky abilities, Cash.” This response, from the one person Ian despised most.

Ian looked up to find Cassius “Cash” Warren, the owner of the first voice, and Garrett Westlake, the bastard owner of the second voice, towering over him. This day was a motherfucker. And he’d had enough.

He stood up, fangs bared. The mom of the three kids let out a sharp gasp but Ian didn’t care. Garrett, the man who’d stolen his first love, had picked the perfect moment to show up. Ian needed a fight and he really wanted to pummel Garrett.

Cash, Garrett’s closest friend, blinked in surprise. “He’s still pissed and we’ve got an audience. Should I take care of it?”

Garrett’s shoulders drooped in resignation. “No. You play good cop. I’ll handle it.”

Before Ian could lunge at the bastard, Garrett sucker punched him. The blow landed so hard Ian went sprawling into pitch-blackness. Knocked out cold.

* * * * *

By the time Ian woke up they’d already taken off in Garrett’s Bombardier Global 7000 custom jet, leaving Arizona behind. He leaned back in the cushy leather seat, rubbing at the slight twinge in his jaw from where the movie mogul had cold cocked him.

“Did you at least get the envelope and everything in it?” he asked the two jokers who’d come to Arizona to find and bring him home.

Cash handed him three fingers of Scotch. Ian gratefully took the glass from the VP of Garrett’s movie studio. He liked Cash. Since the beginning the shifter (species unknown) had been one of the coolest men he’d met.

“Definitely. You didn’t have anything else with you. I figured the keys and pocket money must be important.”

Ian snorted. To the three of them, two thousand dollars represented a good dinner with friends and a few rounds of cocktails. For Rue the amount symbolized her efforts, the sweat shed to earn a dream.

“Where is it?” he asked. Cash handed Ian a new sealed envelope and he nodded his thanks. He glanced at his surroundings. Damn, he’d like to buy one of these jets. They were currently seated around a six-person dining table, flanked on either side by huge windows that revealed the red-orange hues of sunset. When someone said “sitting in the lap of luxury” they’d been referring to Garrett’s jet. Ian shook his head. Had he mentioned how much he hated this bastard?

“Where’s Dillon?” Ian directed his question about his closest friend to Cash, while ignoring the brooding Garrett. “I’m surprised he’s not with you.”

Ian and Dillon had grown up together and shared a bond so tight they could be called brothers. They were close and similar enough in their beliefs about pack and family that Dillon stood as second in command of Ian’s pack.

Cash shook his head. “He’s looking after Jules.”

Worried, Ian leaned forward. Juliana Perlas was another close friend. If something had gone wrong with her he wanted to help. “What’s wrong with Jules?”

It took Cash a couple of seconds to find the right words, as though he were emotionally invested in whatever had happened to her. “She developed a pair of weird medical conditions,” he finally said.

Garrett spoke for the first time since Ian awoke. “She’ll be okay. The big thing is she’s pregnant with a set of wolverine pups.”

“You can’t be serious.” They’d shocked him. When no other response came, Ian directed his first question to Garrett. “How’s your wife? Is Lennox okay?” he asked.

Both men took a beat to consider their answers but only Garrett spoke. “You ready to go home?”

On a long exhalation Ian slumped back into his seat. “Yeah, leaving you in charge of my pack wasn’t my brightest moment. By the way, where’s Nox?”

Cash perked up. “Gone to boarding school in England. He’s getting great grades too.” A bit of mischief transformed Cash’s angelically perfect face. “Garrett’s just worried he’s going to be a granddad before university. Nox, at sixteen, gets into and out of panties like he’s putting on and taking off his own boxers.”

Garrett snarled. Ian snorted in response but Cash chuckled. Only your closest friends could give you that kind of shit and get away with it. Dillon often pissed Ian off in the same way. Garrett and Cash were as tight as Ian and Dillon. It showed in their ease with one another and how they worked in tandem with barely a word uttered between them.