The Werewolf Wears Prada (Entangled Covet) (San Francisco Wolf Pack) (15 page)

Chapter Twenty-One

A little after eight o’clock Monday morning, Hayden led the way into Melina’s apartment, using his senses to detect any unwanted visitors. No unusual scents. Nothing out of the ordinary. Her front door was still locked, and everything seemed to be intact. Nothing stolen or missing, not a single piece of furniture overturned. Above all, there wasn’t a single lingering werewolf scent for Hayden to pick up on.

He’d secretly hoped the werewolf who’d attacked Melina would’ve come back to her apartment to wait for her. He would’ve liked to rip his head off. It wouldn’t solve a damn thing with the rogues, but he’d feel a hell of a lot better. He didn’t even have a scent to fuel his search. All he had was the general area of the attack, which he’d promptly relayed to Gabriel, who’d taken the information to the council.

He’d also told Gabriel about Melina’s suspicion that the person behind the attacks might be someone within the pack. Someone who would know about what they were going to do before they acted.

He didn’t have a single lead.

As Hayden strode into Melina’s living room, he fished his cell out of his pocket and checked his messages. Nothing since Gabriel’s last text saying the council was going to vote on whether or not to send the pack’s guards into Bernal Heights.

In this case, no news wasn’t good news.

The rogues were still out there…

“Pack a few bags,” Hayden said, following Melina down the hall to her bedroom. “You’ll stay with me for a few weeks until the rogue business settles down.”

“I still can’t get over this.” Shaking her head disbelievingly, Melina stripped the shirt from her body and flung it to the floor. “The idea of werewolves living on the streets of the city is crazy.”

With a pained hiss, Hayden averted his eyes and headed to the closet. Using his peripheral vision, he watched her step out of her shorts and panties. He trembled down to the bone and forced his will power to remain intact.

“It may be crazy, but that doesn’t make it any less true.”

“And I’m going to stay with you?” She opened a drawer near her bed, removed a white lacy bra and matching panties, and put them on. “As in…at your beach house?”

She moved as if she were in slow motion, teasing him with every sensual movement, every flex and turn of her lean body. She wasn’t moving any slower than normal, and she wasn’t teasing him.

Except she was.

Had she said something? Was he supposed to answer? He swallowed cotton, and forced the lust to stop pounding through his veins.

“That was the plan,” he said, remembering her question through the fog. “It’s not safe for you to be alone right now. And I’m not sure how much the rogues know about you. It wouldn’t be far-fetched to assume they’ve figured out where you live.”

Wow.
He’d somehow managed to sound coherent. As if every single thought wasn’t revolving around Melina’s gorgeous figure in dainty white lingerie. It was an image he wouldn’t soon forget.

He brushed past her and headed for the closet. He could spend all day watching her change into new clothes and then stripping them from her body, but they didn’t have time.

“We can reserve you a hotel under a fake name to make sure you’re safe, and I’ll stay with you, of course. I doubt I can find a room with a round, zebra-patterned bed, like I know you prefer, but you could make due for a while.”

Pressing her lips together into a grin, Melina moved into the closet and came out wearing a blue dress with criss-cross patterns. Super short. Tight fit. Long sleeves. Paired with brown cowboy boots and a gold rose ring on her pinky finger.

“Magic,” he breathed. “If I go in there, will I come out looking like Channing Tatum?”

Barking out a laugh, Melina dug beneath the bed and pulled out two giant cases of luggage. He let his curiosity get the best of him and strode into the closet. He had to see for himself.

“What the hell?” The breath ripped from his lungs.

“What?” Melina rushed into the closet behind him, horror in her eyes. “What is it?”

“How do you find anything in here?” He pushed aside hanger after hanger of fur, feathers, leather, and sequins. “Do you work at a circus?”

“You scared me,” she said, hand over her heart. “I thought something was wrong.”

“Something
is
wrong.” He pinched the corner of something pink and furry and raised it high. “What’s this?”

“High fashion.” She bumped into his shoulder. “I guess I won’t be needing fur anymore. Soon, I’ll have a giant coat of my own.” Her tone was bitter and dark, and even though she joked about it, Hayden could sense her anxiety.

“You shouldn’t be wearing fur anyway,” he said.

“It’s faux.” Smirking, she kinked her hips to the side. And just like that, all traces of anxiety disappeared from the space between them. “No werewolves were harmed in the making of my wardrobe.”

“I’m telling you, it’s not as bad as you’re making it out to be,” he said. “It’s surprisingly natural.”

“Oh yeah, I’m sure.” Her tone was laced with snark. “By natural, you mean hairy, right? I’m going to have to shave with a weed-whacker.”

“You’re not.” He laughed at the image. “You’re only going to be covered with fur during the full moon, and only when you will it to happen. Every other time of month, your legs will be as silky-smooth as they are now.”

Memories of Melina’s legs wrapping around his waist hit him hard. Tampering down the desire firing through him, Hayden flicked a shimmery green something and a pink feathery headpiece.

“What is all this stuff?” he asked.

“The right side is off-the-runway clothes from this year, and the left is last year’s specials. We’re talking Gucci, Prada, Dior. All the gods.”

“Gods?”

She nodded excitedly. “They rule my world.”

“I’d rather rock it.” Unable to hold back any longer, he gripped her hip and spun her into him. He nipped at her ear, even as the logical part of him warned against getting close to her again. “You definitely rock mine.”

Her breath hitched as he pushed her against the wall of hanging clothes. He claimed her mouth and plunged his tongue past her lips, her little whimpers of delight feeding his desire. Surrounded by leopard prints, ponchos, fur, and glitter, Hayden skimmed his hands up and down her figure, gripped her tightly, and feasted on the sweetness of her mouth.

If they had more time…if one part of his brain wasn’t worried about a rogue bursting in on them, catching him unaware, Hayden would’ve made love to Melina on her closet floor.

She could distract him so easily.

Too easily.

He palmed the flat span of her stomach and gently urged her back. “What’s this?” he asked, holding up her hand and kissing the back. The gold ring on her pinky shone brightly in the closet light.

“My last name is Rosenthal, though I write under Melina Rae.” She brushed her hand over the delicate gold petals. “The rose is a reminder not to lose myself.”

He could understand why she’d chosen to wear the ring today. Especially under the circumstances.

It was a reality check, even for him.

“Your shelves are overflowing.” He pointed to rack upon rack of heels, purses, and wallet-things. “How many bags does one woman need?”

“One for every outfit would be nice.”

“I know you had particular tastes when it came to clothes, but I didn’t know you were in this deep.” He shook his head, taking in the sight, though his hand returned to her stomach. Gently, his fingers raked against her, gripping the loose material of her dress. “You’d be a perfect fit at
Eclipse
. No pun intended.”

“That’s what I’ve always thought, but if I don’t get your article in tip-top shape, my editor won’t pass it along to Lydia Hyde, and my chances will be shot.”

There was another way to get Melina’s foot in the door.

“I can pass your info along to Lydia.” He shrugged, meeting her hungry gaze. “If I vouch for your work, she might read it in a different light.”

“No way in hell,” Melina snapped. “If I’m going to get the job, it’s going to be because
I
earned it, not because
you
introduced me to someone you work with. Thank you, but no thank you.” Removing his hand from her stomach, Melina escaped from the cage of his body and backed deeper into the closet. “Now would you go? I’ll pack the bags.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.” He backed away, hands in the air, his fingers buzzing with the memory of her body. “What can I do to speed this process so we can get out of here?”

“I lost my phone somewhere after the rogues took me.” She threw a pile of clothes onto the bed. And then another.

There was no way all those outfits were going to fit in the trunk. He should’ve traded the Bugatti for a minivan.

“My computer should be near the window in the living room,” she hollered. “Can you check for an email from Sylvia Reinhart?”

The idea of invading her personal space rubbed him all kinds of wrong. “You want me to look through your private messages?”

“I’ve got nothing to hide.” Her voice trailed off as she disappeared into the closet from hell. “Sylvia’s my editor. I’ve usually emailed her by now, updating her on the progress of my article, but I’ve been preoccupied with everything else. She’s probably going ape-shit.”

“If you know she’s going ape-shit, why do you need me to check?”

She peeked her head around the wall. “She’s been known to fast forward deadlines, and if she has, I don’t want to miss it. If you see something from her, would you open it and read it to me?”

She disappeared before he could answer. He found her computer where she’d said—on her desk near the large window overlooking Ashbury Street. Flipping open the lid of her MacBook Air, Hayden punched the space bar, bringing the computer to life.

“It needs a password,” he called out, checking the street for anything out of the ordinary. Hippies. Clothing store. Cigar shop. Everything appeared fine. “Want to come out here and—”

“DickwadDean,” she blurted. “Caps on Dick and Dean. All one word.”

He flicked his tongue over his teeth. “Nice.”

She laughed. “You stood me up. I was pissed.”

“I’m beginning to get the picture.”

As her email cued up, Hayden remarked how easily she’d asked him to log on to her computer and read her email. He’d known Gabriel for two-hundred years, and he still didn’t trust the guy with his computer passcode. Melina was a different creature. Beyond her bizarre clothing choices, she wasn’t afraid to let people get close to her.

He admired that about her. He sure as hell couldn’t do it.

“There’s an email.” He read the subject line. “You’ll have your work cut out for you. That’s the heading.”

“What?” she called out. “From Syliva?”

He opened the email, the breath freezing in his lungs when the image loaded in the body. He’d made the front page of
Celeb Entertainment Source
, and the front page of
Hollywood Hound
. Both magazines featured him in the buff, stealing the pants from a homeless man sprawled on a bench.

Hayden Dean Steals from the Homeless. Details Inside.

Dean’s Drunken Binge. Arrested Records Documented.

“What’s the—” Melina appeared beside him. He hadn’t even heard her approach. “Is that…
you
?”

He nodded, the blood draining from his face.

“You were arrested?” she screeched. “When?”

“The night you were taken.” His voice sounded rough, even to his ears. “I wasn’t arrested. I was detained for questioning. That’s why it took me so long to get to you.”

Smacking her forehead, she bent beside him to get a better look at the covers. “They look bad and not too far-fetched, damn it. What where you doing?”

He paced around the couch centered in her living room. “When I left you at the pier, it was because I picked up the scent of a rogue in the parking garage. I shifted once I was inside, we fought, and he got away.” Vengeance scorched through him, even now, days later. “I tried to get back to you, but I’d ripped through my clothes. One of the casualties of shifting, I’m afraid.”

“Whoa, whoa, hold the phone. I’ll ruin my clothes?” Her eyes went wide. “You didn’t say
anything
about tearing through my clothes. No way. Nuh-uh. I want off this ride.”

“You can wear clothes from Salvation Army, if you don’t want to shred anything you have hanging up in there.”

“Salvation…
Army
?”

“Believe me, Melina, your clothes situation is the least of our worries.”

“You’re right.” But her tone didn’t show it. “We’ve got a bigger problem here.”

He could feel the honor of becoming Alpha slipping right through his fingers. His palms sweat. “I ripped through my clothes, and needed something to cover me. I tried to take the blanket off the homeless guy, which as it turns out, wasn’t a blanket at all.”

“Disaster.” She closed down that email and opened another. “Wonder how much the people made from selling those pictures to the tabloids.”

“Believe me, you don’t want to know. It’ll make you sick.”

“I’m already there.”

As she spun to face him, dark shadows shifted in her honey-brown eyes. “The magazines really are slanted, aren’t they?”

“Every single one.” He picked up the bags she’d dropped by the door. “Well, I do like to go out and have a couple drinks every now and again, but I’m usually arriving late to the bars, so I’ve only had a drink before closing.”

“What about the fights?”

“I’m usually breaking it up, or defending a fool who couldn’t stand up for himself.”

“The women?”

“They were placeholders for you.”

She sauntered closer. And then she threw her arms around his neck and crushed her mouth to his.

“Somehow I knew it. I really did,” she said, as their lips parted. “I guess I just needed to hear you say it for it to be true. I’m going to write such a damned good article, everyone’s going to forget about the tainted Hayden Dean they thought they knew before. And then you’re going to get the promotion you’re after.”

He breathed hard, the taste of her lingering on his lips. “It’s not a promotion, Melina. The governing council of the pack believes my image could taint the whole pack. They don’t think I can be trusted because I don’t take pack business seriously.” His heart pounded out of his chest and his head spun. “Everything that’s happened over the last year proves how selfish I am at the core—at least in their eyes. My fall from grace can easily be documented in the trail of magazine garbage.”