Uncaging Wolves (Shifter Country Wolves Book 4) (3 page)

“How about you don’t
fucking
sneak up on people?” Scarlet shot back, taking a step forward.

He didn’t back down. He stood up taller, not exactly puffing his chest out, but not backing down, and for the first time, Scarlet got a good look at his face: he had a square jaw and dark brown hair, nearly black, his face punctuated by two ice-blue eyes, both sparking with anger.

Wolf for sure, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t fight him.

“What the hell is your problem?” he asked. He took a step forward, sending a flood of warmth through Scarlet that she couldn’t even identify.

“My problem is with assholes who spill my drink everywhere when I’m trying to watch a show,” she said.

Now she was in his face, and she could smell his spicy, musky scent as he stood perfectly still.

Then she put her hand on his chest and shoved him backwards, hard. He took a step back but didn’t lose his balance, holding both hands up so she could see his t-shirt stretched across the muscles in his chest.

The sight made her even angrier, and she wanted to grab him, punch him in his face, make those beautiful eyes black and blue. Scarlet was millimeters from wolfing out, the fur pricking at the underside of her skin, and she felt wild and uncontrolled and
wonderful
.

“I’m not gonna fight you,” he said, his jaw working beneath his skin.

“Are you one of those dipshits who don’t fight women?” she asked, taking another step forward.

He watched her but didn’t move, and her wolf snarled. Scarlet hadn’t felt that powerful in
years
, and she felt like she was capable of anything at that moment, watching this gorgeous, heavily muscled man back away from her fury.

“I’m one of those dipshits who don’t fight people for stupid reasons,” he said. His voice had gone dangerously quiet, and now Scarlet could smell the adrenaline coursing through him.

She opened her mouth again but someone grabbed both her upper arms, yanking her backward. Her glass fell out of her hand and shattered on the floor. A ring of people had formed around the two of them, and now they took a step back.

“GET OFF ME!” Scarlet shouted, flailing and trying to elbow whoever was behind her, but he had a grip like steel.

“You’ve got about one more second before you’re out of here,” said the bouncer. Scarlet hadn’t even seen him enter, she’d been so focused on the guy who’d spilled her drink. “You gonna shape up, or get out?”

Scarlet’s nostrils flared, and for a moment, she thought about shifting.

I could bite at least one of them before they got me
, she thought. Her chest heaved, and she could feel sweat running down the back of her neck.

“Well?” growled the bouncer.

Scarlet swallowed.

You’re on parole
, she thought.
They’ll take any excuse to send you back. Any excuse at all.

She exhaled, feeling shaky despite her bravado.

“I’m fine,” she said.
 

As she spoke, she stared into the bright blue eyes of the guy she’d tried to fight. He stared back, and Scarlet felt something click, deep inside herself.
 

It made her nervous.

“You sure?” asked the bouncer.

“Let her go, Brick,” the guy said. He crossed his arms in front of himself, Scarlet still a little off balance from Brick’s grip on her.

Brick released her and stepped back. Scarlet rotated her arms in their sockets, still glaring at the man with the blue eyes who’d spilled her drink. The band was still playing, and the crowd that had given them space started minding their own business again, slowly moving back toward the bar.

“Do it again, and you’re out of here,” Brick rumbled, and then walked back toward the door of the bar. The bar back grabbed a broom and a dustpan and walked over, looking sullen. Scarlet moved out of his way.

She stared at the asshole who’d spilled her drink. Somewhere, deep down, she was aware that she’d reacted badly and that she’d come dangerously close to fucking up everything on her first night out, but more than that, she was
pissed.

Pissed that this guy was standing there like he hadn’t done anything wrong, even though he’d scared the shit out of her. Pissed that he didn’t even look nervous that she was so angry she’d almost shifted involuntarily.

Pissed that he was fucking
hot
and she couldn’t help but notice, and pissed that she could feel her body responding to him like crazy, despite herself.

Something hummed through her veins and muscles. She wanted to shift, she wanted to fight, and she wanted something
else
, something so primal she could barely put a word to it.
 

Blue Eyes stared back, his face utterly unreadable.

Fucking say something
, thought Scarlet, clenching her jaw. The bar back swept up the whiskey and glass, dumping the mess into a plastic bucket he’d brought along, then walked away.

“What are you drinking?” the man finally asked. His voice was low and slightly raspy. Scarlet could practically feel it in her bones.

“Jack, rocks,” she said, keeping her voice short and clipped.
 

You can’t let him know you think he’s hot
, she thought.
He can’t have any advantage here.

She shook her hair out of her face and glared at him, hard, her defenses still up.
 

The last time someone had sneaked up on her, Scarlet spent a week in solitary. The other girl had spent a week in the infirmary, and after that, they’d been relegated to different wings of the prison.

Blue Eyes nodded once, looking her up and down.

“You want another one?” he asked. He still didn’t smile.

Are you going to put Drano in it or something?
Scarlet wondered, narrowing her eyes.
Why should I trust you with a drink?

Then she looked around for a moment, her arms crossed over her chest, and took a deep breath. People were milling around again, the bar half-full, the band playing on.

It’s a bar, not jail
, she thought.
You have to learn how to be on the outside if you’re going to stay on the outside.

“Sure,” she told the guy.

He nodded and turned away. Scarlet finally exhaled, turning her eyes back to the band. The guitarist looked at her again, though this time he didn’t wink.

Scarlet’s rage subsided a little, even though her hands still shook with
 
adrenaline. As she looked around the crowd, she realized that most of the people avoided her gaze, turning their heads away.

You can’t pull this kind of shit
, she realized, her stomach sinking.
This isn’t how people in society behave.

She clenched and unclenched her fists at her sides, trying to make herself calm down.

Chapter Three

Gavin

As he walked toward the bar, Gavin could tell people were looking at him funny, avoiding eye contact. People whose names he knew. After all, Chase played here every Wednesday night with his band, so they were regulars.

People who knew that Gavin was probably the last guy in Cascadia who’d get into a bar fight. Hell,
he’d
thought he was the last person in Cascadia who’d get into a bar fight. Every job he’d had in his adult life had been about de-escalation, first as a prison guard and then as a parole officer.
 

But the brunette with the gray eyes, the nearly-black hair and the
snarl
had triggered something deep inside him.

“Another one?” Gus asked as he wiped his hands on a bar towel.

“Yeah, and can I also get a Jack on the rocks?” asked Gavin.

The bartender nodded once. Thirty seconds later he slid a whiskey and a beer across the bar.

“You know her?” Gus asked, trying to sound casual.

“Not yet,” said Gavin, holding up both drinks.

“Careful,” said Gus, in the same affectedly-casual way. “She’s new, and she seems touchy.”

I can handle her
, Gavin thought.
 

He almost wished that she’d actually fought him, or at least tried. He
did
have years of practice handling people far bigger and stronger than her, but deep down, he liked the thought of her touching him again, getting to hold her arms back, let her wriggle against him.

His skin still tingled where she’d shoved him, after all.

“Thanks,” he told Gus, then walked from the bar back to the girl. This time he stood about a foot to her left and waited for her to see him. When she did, there was a flash of anger in her gray eyes, and Gavin felt a bolt of warmth go through him.

He fought back a smile.

Fight me again
, he thought, as he handed her the drink.

“You fight a lot of men in bars?” he asked, as he took a sip of his beer.

“Only the ones who don’t understand personal space,” she said.

“I bet that’s not true,” he said. “You seem like you’d get into a fight for lots of reasons.”

She leveled a glare at him, looking left through her bangs.

“They’re all good ones,” she said, her voice flat with anger.

“All right!” shouted the band’s singer from the stage, cutting off Gavin’s response. “This is our last song. We’re the Leather Chain, thanks for having us!”

The song took off, and for a moment, Gavin got lost in watching Chase play. The cover band was just something he did for fun, but he was
good
. His fingers danced over the frets, his hips rocked in time with the beat, and he tossed his hair out of his face every so often with a cocksure swagger that Gavin
knew
drove people wild.

Hell, it still drove
him
wild, and he’d been watching Chase for years.

Then Chase looked over at Gavin, then at the girl, then at Gavin, his eyebrows raising just slightly. Gavin held up his beer, and Chase smiled.

“You a friend of his?” the girl demanded.

“Yup,” said Gavin, lifting his beer to his mouth.

We’re a little more than friends
, he thought. He watched her throat move as she took another swig from her Jack Daniels, the ice cubes clinking as they moved in her glass. She had the look of someone trying to keep themselves reined in, giving it all they had, and hardly succeeding.

Gavin really wished he found it less attractive, but instead he was helplessly drawn to her, this new girl recklessly trying to fight
him
, of all people, and not backing down for even a second.

It’s not attractive, it’s insane
, he told himself, looking at her from the corner of his eyes.

Nope, it’s definitely attractive
, he thought.

“They’re all right,” she finally said, nodding at the band.

“I’ll let them know,” Gavin said, unable to stop ribbing her. “The girl who tried to fight me thought they were all right.”

He looked at her and smiled for the first time, and her eyes flashed in response. She didn’t leave, though, didn’t take even one step away.

“You got a name, instead of ‘angry wolf girl’?” he asked.

“You first.”

“I’m Gavin,” he said, holding out his hand to her. “Pleasure to meet you.”

Their eyes met, and for a moment, Gavin realized she didn’t know what to do.

Something deeper is going on here
, he thought.

“Sarah,” she finally said, and put her hand in his, shaking it firmly.

“Was that so bad?” he asked, her hand still in his.

Her face was half-angry, half-fascinated. Gavin felt helpless against his own urge to get under her skin, to provoke her rage and see what happened. She tried to pull her hand away and he held onto it, lowering his lips until they brushed against her skin.

Sarah stopped struggling against him, and he kissed her hand for a long moment, the skin cool against his lips, before releasing her. Then she dropped her hand to her side, simply staring at him.

“What’s your fucking
deal
?” she finally asked, narrowing those eyes of hers.

Gavin laughed.

“I came over in the first place to see if I could buy you a drink,” he said. “But you tried to fight me before I got a chance.”

She looked at him suspiciously, and just then the song ended. The singer shouted, “Thank you Canyon City!” into the microphone before they all left the stage. Chase glanced over his shoulder at Gavin and Sarah once.

“You gonna hang around and see if that cute guitarist comes out?” Gavin asked.

Stop teasing her,
he thought, but he couldn’t. There was just
something
in the angry way she looked at him that activated something primal, deep down inside. He couldn’t help himself.

“Why are you asking?” she said, her eyebrows going up a little, a smile starting to curve onto her lips. “Are you jealous?”

She raised her eyebrows, like she thought she was taunting him right back.

“He’s pretty hot,” she went on, her eyes glittering. “Did you see the way he moves his hips when he plays? I’d wrap my legs around that any day of the year.”

Gavin felt himself flush, imagining Sarah on her back, snarling and gasping as he bent over her, the scent of her arousal floating through the air.

Also, he didn’t disagree that Chase was hot. Fuck yeah, Chase was hot.

“I’ll let him know,” Gavin said, still ribbing her. “If I put in a good word, maybe you’ll have half a chance.”

Sarah frowned, but before she could say anything, Chase emerged from a black door across the bar and walked toward Gavin and Sarah. The girl began to blush, her muscles going rigid, her eyes widening.

“Shall I?” Gavin asked, watching the anger flicker in her eyes. He leaned over — not too close — and rumbled into her ear. “There’s a couch backstage and I bet I can you on it with him. Just say the word.”

It wasn’t a lie.

Sarah stood perfectly straight and tossed her hair out of her eyes, looking away from Chase and finishing her whiskey.

“How about you back the fuck off?” she hissed.

“Hey,” said Chase, walking up to Gavin. His eyes flicked to Sarah and then back to Gavin, and Gavin could see hunger lighting in them.

“Good show,” said Gavin, grinning at his mate.