Vice (Fireborn Wolves Book 1) (7 page)

“
Y
our father passed recently
?” Laina noticed the note of pain that tightened the corners of Kyle’s eyes and thinned his lips. Goddess she was an idiot. “I’m sorry, Kyle. I didn’t know.”

Kyle sighed heavily. “It was a shock. My brother and I used to joke that the man was a cockroach; nothing could kill him. The guy smoked like a chimney, drank like he had a replaceable liver, and burned through women half his age while subsisting on a diet of bacon and butter sandwiches.”

Despite her attempt to remain respectfully solemn, she chuckled. “Quite a man.”

“You could say that. He was the quintessential American playboy. Actually, Hunt Club was his idea. It was the last business our company established with his direct involvement.”

“When did he decide to get Milo?” she asked.

“A few months before I came to see you. We didn’t know he was sick until the end. Everyone assumed he was off sowing his wild oats. Turns out he was spending his days dying in a cabin in Red Grove. The nurse said he got Milo because he wanted a guard dog near the end.”

Laina raised an eyebrow as Milo shook his jowls, drool spraying the remains of the couch cushions around him. His tongue lolled out the corner of his mouth as he looked up at her, the billows of his leathery nose snorting. “He may have chosen the wrong mastiff.”

“He does seem more of a chewer than a fighter,” Kyle said.

“Not just that, he’s an English Mastiff, not a bullmastiff.”

“There’s a difference?”

“A big one. English Mastiffs are bigger but much less aggressive. Don’t get me wrong, they can be protective of their owners and do make good watchdogs. His size and bark would be a major deterrent to most people. But it’s usually the bullmastiffs that are used for security. They’re more aggressive. You break into a house with a bullmastiff and his size would be the least of your worries. You’d likely get up close and personal with his teeth. English Mastiffs don’t have a mean bone in their bodies naturally.” As if to illustrate her point, Milo lay down near her feet and rolled onto his back. She squatted to scratch his belly, noticing the rash was completely gone. At least in that respect, Kyle was taking good care of him.

“I don’t think he was worried about getting robbed. She said his first night there, something big scratched at the door and scared the hell out of him. He thought it might have been a bear and wanted a pet who’d scare away any wild animals who took an interest in the place.”

Laina tapped her chin as she observed Milo and the couch he’d destroyed. “I think we’re dealing with more than an undisciplined dog here, Kyle. He’s grieving—just like you. Your dad was his pack, his alpha. All the feelings of loss you’re experiencing, he’s experiencing too.”

“He bonded with the old coot, huh?”

“Dogs weren’t meant to be alone,” she said, stroking Milo’s ears. “Milo is lonely. He wants a leader. If you want Milo to respect you, you need to win him over, get him to see you as his alpha. Not only will he feel secure enough to stop eating your furniture, he’ll be loyal and protective of you until the day he dies.”

Kyle’s polished smile faded into something more vulnerable. “How do I do that?”

“Two things.” She stood, dusting Milo’s hair from her hands. “The first is to earn his trust by caring for him on a predictable basis. That means he can’t spend all day locked in this room. He must be fed a quality diet, exercised regularly, and socialized with both people and other animals. He needs a predictable schedule that includes work and reward.”

Kyle snorted. “Don’t we all. What’s the second thing?”

She met Kyle’s stare. The effect was intense and immediate, her wolf standing at attention. “Love.”

Kyle’s gaze drifted over her face in an almost palpable way. “Love?”

“Seriously. A dog can tell when you love him. They need love the same as food or water. The same as humans do.” Her voice petered out at the end as she responded to the intensity of eye-to-eye contact. She looked away.

“So, we start with trust,” he murmured under his breath. He stepped in closer to her. “I wish we’d had that date. That first day I met you, you knocked me off my feet.”

“Please,” she said, rolling her eyes. “You are surrounded by supermodels. I highly doubt a woman with blood in her hair and smelling of fecal samples knocked you off your feet.”

A languid smile spread across his face. “There’s something about you. You’re different. Wild.”

“Why would you say I was wild?” She tried not to sound defensive, but the word felt too close to home. As if he somehow knew what she was.

He shrugged. “I mean it as a compliment. You just seem authentic, like the world hasn’t shaped you. You have no idea how rare that is.”

She sighed, her body softening. He stepped in closer. “So, how about rescheduling our date?”

He was close enough to kiss and the intensity of his stare seemed to indicate he was open to the idea. She could smell his desire for her. It hung in the air like the rich spice of roasted nutmeg and cloves. Every part of Laina longed to kiss Kyle. It was clear by the way her wolf awakened and begged for his mouth, that Jason was right: Kyle was her vice. If she kissed him, she’d only want more. Already his presence was magnetic, almost like he was throwing off his own gravity.

And she had other concerns. The thought of being another notch in Kyle’s belt sickened her, but the real risk resided just under her skin. Although she’d been with humans before, her desire for those men didn’t have the edge this did. She was strong and she’d never dealt with emotions like this. Kyle had no idea how dangerous she could be. He may have owned Hunt Club, but there was only one predator in the room, and it was Laina.

His lips parted. He was so close, so intent on her. Laina warred with herself. She should stop. She should back away. But in the end, it was impossible. She closed the last sliver of space and planted her lips on his. Gently, his hands stroked her shoulders as he gave her mouth a soft, warm, and gentle caress.

She drew a breath through her nose, detecting a subtle trace of woody cologne with a mandarin top note, the deep forest scent she’d come to associate with him, a light chemical residue she recognized as dry cleaning solution, a hint of Milo, peppermint toothpaste, and underneath it all, the delicious spice of warm, passionate male she’d picked up earlier. His body warmed beneath her touch. His heart rate quickened. But the thing that made her wolf mad with passion was that despite living in this place and doing what he did, she could not detect even a hint of female on his skin.

With the slightest shift in his lips and the bend of his neck, she deduced he intended to end the kiss. She gripped his hips with both hands and pulled him against her, hard enough to make him grunt. Her hands worked under the tails of his shirt, over the smooth skin of his sides. She clawed his tight, firm muscles while she coaxed his lips apart and stroked his tongue with her own.

A wolfish growl rumbled from her chest, and she doubled her efforts to gain control. What was she doing? If she didn’t stop now, she never would. She called to mind the pictures Cameron had shown her of Kyle with other women. It was enough to take the edge off. Mustering her willpower, she removed her hands from his stomach and pushed him away.

“Jesus, lord in heaven.” He ran a hand over his face.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “That was… I don’t know what came over me.” She pressed three fingers to her lips.

He released a shaky breath. “I cannot communicate strongly enough how much I feel you should embrace your assertive tendencies. It works for you. Oh holy hell does it work for you.” His gaze raked over her breasts and he moved in again, reaching for her waist.

She held up both hands. “It was inappropriate.”

He stopped immediately. “Huh?”

“I’ll be honest. I find you attractive.”

“Good. The feeling is mutual.”

Her eyes shifted to the window and her fingers knotted in front of her hips. “I’ve spent too much time working lately, and the stress of what is happening in my personal life is overwhelming. It’s only natural I’d be drawn to you,” she said. “I’m sure you are used to casual sex. Maybe you even expect it. I need you to know, I hold myself to a higher standard. I got caught up in the moment. But I promise you, this is not who I am, and it won’t happen again.”

She turned back to find his face red, a scowl directed at her. He pointed at the spot she was standing in when she’d kissed him. “I seem to remember asking you on a date… for the second time. And
you
kissing
me
. What makes you think this was about casual sex?”

She was taken aback by his question. “You do have a reputation as a playboy.”

His lip curled. “Ah, the tabloids. You read them, and you believe them?” He formed a gun with his finger and thumb and pointed it at her.

“Er, no, actually. I usually don’t. I just… It is called Hunt Club,” she said. “The thrill of the chase. Isn’t casual sex what this place is all about?”

All emotion drained from his face, and a polished air of invincibility came over him. “I see.” He adjusted his watch and pulled his phone from his back pocket. “As it so happens, I’m late for my afternoon orgy,” he said through his teeth, his words dripping with sarcasm.

“I didn’t mean—”

“Get started with Milo. You’ll find all of his things in the mudroom off the kitchen. I’ll check in with you later.” He gave her an entirely professional smile before leaving the room abruptly.

She stared at the door in shock, arms at her sides. A warm, wet nudge to her fingers reminded her that her charge was waiting. Milo’s wrinkled face smiled up at her. “Don’t look at me like that. How could I have known he’d take offense? The place
is
called Hunt Club for crying out loud, and there are just short of a million incriminating pictures of the man on the Internet.”

The dog perked his floppy ears and tilted his head.

“Yeah, yeah. Come on. You need exercise and I need air.”

C
learly
, Kyle had tried his best to provide for Milo. Laina found a basket of toys, treats, and a variety of leashes in the mudroom off the kitchen. Milo stuck to her side and examined each item as she pulled it from the basket, sniffing and licking each one. The mastiff was interested and friendly, snorting derisively and stomping his feet when she returned a rope toy to the pile.

She selected a training lead and positioned it on Milo’s neck. Adding a handful of small treats to her pocket, she led the dog to the back door. “Okay, Milo. We can do this the hard way or the easy way.”

The dog panted up at her, ears perked. A glob of slobber dropped from the corner of his sagging lips onto the toe of her shoe.

“I’m not going to hold that against you. I have a very good friend named Cameron who does the same thing sometimes.” She rubbed the dog’s tawny head. “Now, I’m going to open this door. You’re going to wait and let me go through first. Understand?”

Pant, pant, pant.

“Sit.” She pressed his butt to the floor and mumbled, “Here goes nothing.”

Turning the knob slowly, she straightened, sending Milo every physical and metaphysical signal she could muster to indicate she was the alpha and he should stay behind her. But as soon as the door was cracked three inches, Milo bolted. Yanked by her leash-holding arm, Laina soared like a kite over the threshold, body flapping behind the massive canine. As he bounded across the pool deck, she leapt over pool chairs, limbs flailing until she could muster her inner wolf.

“Milo, stop!” she growled, giving the dog a sharp and firm correction.

Milo slowed to a stop at the edge of the yard. Panting, Laina took the mastiff’s slobbery face in her hands. “Why did you have to do it the hard way?” The dog’s tongue flicked out and up the side of her face.

“Ms. Whitehall, is everything all right?” the housekeeper called from the door Laina had left hanging open.

Laina waved. “Just fine.” She nudged Milo and adjusted the training lead. “Let’s try this again.”

The backyard was ideal for a large dog like Milo. It was easily two acres, fenced, with plenty of shade trees. The swimming pool Milo had flown past might offer him an excellent form of exercise if the pool cleaner didn’t protest the inevitable dirt and hair in the filter.

After a long afternoon of training, Laina concluded that Milo was further along than she’d expected. He could sit on command, as well as lay down, and he came when called. He did not know the command to leave an object alone, and a ball she tossed for his amusement was promptly destroyed rather than returned.

But after several sessions around the yard, Milo followed her back to the house at an easy walk.

“I can’t believe it.” The housekeeper grinned from the door, her graceful gray chignon reminding Laina of a character from a children’s book. “I never thought anyone but Herbert would bring that beast to heel.”

“Herbert?”

“Kyle’s father.” She grinned, rubbing Milo’s head. “Kyle was right about you. You are the best. I’m Gerty.” The elderly woman held out her hand.

Kyle said I was the best? “
Anna. It’s nice to meet you.”

“I’ll call you Anna if you prefer. But ever since he brought Milo to see you at your clinic, he hasn’t stopped talking about you.” She winked. “I can’t recall a woman ever having the effect you did on him.”

Laina narrowed her eyes on Gerty. So, the old woman knew her secret as well. “Come on. Did he put you up to this? Half-naked supermodels twenty-four hours a day. Hundreds of pictures on the Internet of his very busy lifestyle. I’m sure he has better things to talk about than a vet he met in New Hampshire.”

Gerty pressed her lips together, her face growing serious. She seemed to want to say something but stopped herself. “Well, you would know better than I would.”

Laina’s eyebrows knit together, but the old woman turned back toward the kitchen before she could say another word. Clearly, Gerty had known Kyle longer than Laina and the twist of the woman’s thin lips would indicate her comment was sarcasm. But why? Why not address the realities of what Kyle did head-on, one way or the other?

“Oh, Gerty,” she called, “is there a place nearby where I can order dinner?”

She clucked her tongue. “I should have told you that Chef serves dinner in the dining room of the west wing at six o’clock. I’m afraid you’ve missed tonight’s seating.”

“Seating?” She laughed. “Does he cook for the staff every night?”

She stopped dusting and looked at Laina as if she were dense. “Yes. For the others. You’re staying in Kyle’s private wing, but there are always around twenty employees living in the west wing on any given day. Models, waitstaff, writers.”

“Writers?”

“For the online magazine.”

“Oh.”

“I can make you a sandwich if you like,” she said.

“Don’t bother, Gerty,” Kyle said as he entered the kitchen. His attire had gained a sport coat and he looked as polished as when he’d left. “We’ll fend for ourselves.”

“Excellent.” Gerty gave a small smile. “I’ll be heading home then unless you have something else for me.”

“Nope. Go put your feet up. How’s Arthur?”

“Recovering. Knee’s still sore but the doc says that’s to be expected. He’s got his spunk back.”

“Good. Send him my love.”

“I will, Kyle. He can’t wait to get back.”

“We can’t wait to have him.” He kissed her on the cheek and she left the room, along with Kyle’s cordiality. When his eyes settled on her, his face turned impassive, a poker player with cards tight to his vest. Silence settled between them.

When she was sure the housekeeper was out of earshot, she said, “Kyle, about what I said earlier—”

“Aren’t you going to ask me how my afternoon orgy went?” He spread his hands. “You know, the thing about orgies, they’re only fun if you’re the last one to finish. Finish first and you become an accessory. Easy enough for the females involved but as a male…” He raised his eyebrows. “Plus, it’s crowded and remembering names is such a bother.”

“I’m sorry,” she blurted. “I obviously offended you. I made a rude and crass insinuation based on rumors and innuendo.” She held up a finger, narrowing her eyes at him. “But in my defense, there are hundreds of incriminating photographs of you on the net. While you don’t need a complete stranger accusing you of being a manwhore in your own home, I do think the evidence is on my side with this one.”

“Thank you. I accept your apology.”

She balked at his soft response to her self-righteous pseudoapology.

His brows knit together and one corner of his mouth bent into a wry grin. “Do you still consider me a complete stranger? This is our fifth conversation. And let’s not forget, I saved you from being manhandled by that guy in the club and kept you out of prison, plus I know your deepest, darkest secret,
Dr. Laina Flynn
. I think we can officially bridge the gap to friendship, don’t you?”

Not my deepest or darkest secret
, she thought, but considering she’d explored the deepest regions of his mouth with her tongue, perhaps it was time to move beyond strangers. “Agreed.”

“Come on. I’m hungry. I’ll make you my famous omelet. And when I say famous, I mean loved and adored by the only three people I’ve ever made it for.” He leaned in close. “Just to warn you, they were all related to me and very hungry at the time.”

“I’m up for an adventure,” she said shrugging. “But first, you need to feed Milo.”

With a nod, Kyle crossed to the corner of the kitchen and scooped three cups of high-end kibble into a stainless steel bowl he retrieved from Milo’s raised bowl stand. Milo nudged his elbow, snorting and stomping his feet.”

“Don’t you dare just give that to him,” Laina said.

“Huh? You just told me to feed him.”

“Look at his body language. In dog terms, he’s calling you his bitch right now.”

Kyle looked down at Milo, the dog’s unblinking stare holding a hint of aggression. Milo woofed and nudged the bowl. “What do I do?”

“Make him work for it. Tell him to sit.”

“Sit, Milo.”

Milo’s mouth closed and he pounced. His front feet punched into Kyle’s shoulders knocking him to the kitchen’s stone floor. Dog food sprayed across Kyle’s face and skimmed in every direction. Milo stepped over his owner and began slurping the kibble off the floor like a canine vacuum.

Laina leaned over Kyle. “Are you okay?” She hoped he hadn’t hit his head.

He raised the empty bowl, rotating it above his face. Kibble skimmed from the shoulders of his suit jacket. “I’m my dog’s bitch.” He frowned. “He didn’t even buy me dinner first. I bought
him
dinner.”

“We can fix this.” She held out a hand and helped him from the floor, picking a piece of dog food out of his handkerchief pocket. She tossed it to Milo, who was almost finished cleaning up the rest.

He rubbed the back of his head, his defeated grin close enough that he had to bend his neck to look at her. “Are you still up for that omelet?”

In fact, with his face so close to hers, she was up for a hell of a lot more. Her wolf was quick to remind her that her vice was in the room, with a blast of heat that traveled straight to her core.

She nodded and backed away before she did something she’d regret.

He opened the refrigerator and retrieved a carton of eggs, before pausing to remove his jacket and roll up the sleeves of his dress shirt. Holy muscles of the gods. She slid onto one of the bar stools next to the kitchen island and watched with her chin in her hands.

“Since we’re friends,” Laina began slowly, “and we’ve established you are not a manwhore, do you mind explaining your public reputation?” She had to ask. The man was a walking enigma. It was driving her crazy.

“Only if you promise to stop using the term manwhore. What the hell does that even mean? A whore is someone paid for sex. Not even the tabloids say I’m
paid
for sex.” The quirky grin was back, and she crossed her legs against the resulting ache it elicited in her.

“But you are in the tabloids, often with several different women.”

Kyle pulled out a cutting board and began chopping a tomato. “It’s my brand.”

“Your what?”

“My brand. Hunt Club deals in fantasy. We create an environment exclusive to men. Men want to live vicariously through someone like me, someone with a new girlfriend, or two or three, every other week. Every aspect of the Hunt Club franchise is built around the desires of men. They can’t get what we offer in the real world. It doesn’t exist.”

“Naked women don’t exist?”

“No. We don’t sell nudity. Hell, the body paint provides more coverage than some of the restaurant uniforms out there. We sell pride. Men are the kings of the jungle here; hence the lion logo. They make the rules. They’re in control. They lead the hunt.”

She snorted. “It’s the lionesses who do the hunting.”

“Like I said, we deal in fantasy, not reality.” He drifted to a cabinet at the far side of the kitchen and rummaged inside.

“Wine or Scotch?” he asked. He glanced over his shoulder. “Or are you a teetotaler?”

“Scotch,” she said, her wolf growling slightly from within.

He beamed at her over his shoulder. “I knew it. A woman who kisses like you had to drink Scotch.”

Cheeks warming, Laina rounded the island and selected a knife from the block. She began slicing the onion on the counter while he poured the Scotch. “Your brand, as you call it, it’s not real?”

He sipped the amber liquid, its color only a shade darker than his eyes, and gave her a condescending look. “I’m not a virgin if that’s what you’re asking.” He raised an eyebrow. “I’ve had girlfriends. Some aspects of my public life are real. But, most of the women you see in the magazines or online are actresses or models.” He took a deep breath through his nose and stepped in close beside her, handing her the other Scotch. With his shoulder brushing hers, he said through a smile, “I am a one-woman-at-a-time kind of guy, and I prefer to be all the man my woman needs.”

She paused with the knife halfway through the onion and swallowed hard.

“Careful,” he said. “Your thumb.”

Glancing down, she noticed her thumb dangerously close to the path of the knife and pulled her hand away, reaching for the Scotch. “Thanks,” she murmured.

He grabbed the eggs and started cracking them into a glass bowl. “Although recently, I haven’t had time for anyone, to be honest.”

“No? Been flying solo, have you?” She managed to make the words flying solo sound lascivious.

He rolled his eyes like she was a precocious eighth grader. “You know, you’re sworn to secrecy about this. You could ruin me, spreading rumors I’m monogamous.”

She grinned. “Your secret’s safe with me. A secret for a secret.”

He ignited a burner on the Viking range and positioned a frying pan over the flames. “That should be enough.” He lifted the cutting board of chopped onions from the island and retrieved a bag of spinach and some feta from the fridge.

“Gerty says you have employees living on-site.”

“At every location we own.”

“How many locations are there?”

“Five others. Jackson Hole, Lake Christina, Pine Ridge, Dunes Island. Fern Gulch.”

Kyle poured the egg into the pan and adjusted the heat.

“And you have private residences at each of them? I mean, for yourself and for the employees.”

“It’s easier that way. We choose remote areas to develop. Land is less expensive but the talent we need usually comes from New York or LA. Offering them an apartment while they’re here sweetens the deal.”

“And you have a chef who cooks them dinner but not you?”

He smiled at her as he sprinkled the filling ingredients into the egg. “Oh, Chef offered. I sent him home. I wanted you to myself.”

When he turned back to the pan, she lifted her glass and tossed back the rest of her Scotch, then poured herself another.

“I would like to take you out on that date you owe me, but this will have to do for now. Nate is expecting me back at the club later tonight.” He plated one large omelet.

“There’s only one.”

“We’ll have to share.” He grinned. “Unless you insist on dirtying another plate.”