What This Wolf Wants (5 page)

A frown marred his brow at the thought of how the rough material of his jeans would rub uncomfortably against the bandage on his hip. Not to mention how much trouble he’d have getting his morning erection under wraps. Unfortunately he’d have to make due as he hadn’t packed anything loose other than a pair of boxers, and that wouldn’t come close to keeping his modesty in check. Not that he cared, but at the same time, he wasn’t one to flaunt his goods.

Before he could don the clothes, his phone rang.

“Where the hell are you, man? You don’t call, you don’t write. Are you hurt? In trouble? Need us to kick some ass?” Zan shook his head at the barrage of Scott’s sarcastic albeit serious questions. Zan had told the younger shifter he would call last night when he got into Woodcliff. When he hadn’t, Scott had probably overreacted.

After all, it was SOP that when a soldier didn’t check in as agreed upon, it caused a call to battle.

“I’m fine. For the most part.” Zan muttered as he fingered the bandage on his hip. He shuffled his feet, and kicked something.

“Whaddya mean? Where are you?”

Zan set a plastic bag on top of his clothes. “Ah, not real sure.” Peeking inside, he found a gray pair of sweatpants, a soft oversized green T-shirt and a set of sneakers. He lifted the soft material to his nose and sniffed. Under the mild detergent was the scent of his brother.

A twinkle of amusement lit Zan’s eyes. Either Dean had gone through his belongings and found out Zan didn’t have any loose apparel, or he’d retrieved them from his own home as a courtesy. From what he’d learned about his sibling the night before, Zan believed it to be both.

Dean appeared to be an intelligent, caring, and methodical leader.

It was only smart to protect his pack by learning as much as possible about an unknown shifter. Even if said shifter was a brother.

“Earth to Zan?”

“What?”

“Where. Are. You?”

Approving the thoroughness, Zan donned the pants. “In a house. A bedroom to be exact.”

“Was that man in the photo your brother? Did you get in contact?”

“Yes and yes. I met him last night actually.”
And also met a woman that smelled like heaven, tasted like sin,
and stirred my blood even now.

“So that’s why you didn’t call.”

“Actually,” Zan decided against the shirt and shoes and drifted barefoot to the open bedroom door. “I was shot last night.” Zan ignored the string of curses and questions and instead asked,

“Where are you?” Because it sounded as if Scott was in a moving vehicle and that he wasn’t alone. If those boys took it upon themselves to jump the gun and come after Zan, well, his little family reunion was going to turn into a clusterfuck.

“We flew into Denver this morning, rented a car and are nearing Woodcliff. We need your coordinates.”

Zan had stopped listening the moment he stepped into the master bedroom. There, on the bed, the woman who was to be his mate was sleeping in the arms of another man.

Fury rose hot and thick in his chest at the sight. “I’ll call you back in twenty.”

Zan thumbed his cell off, focused more on doing bodily harm to the shifter who had one brawny arm wrapped around the waist of
Zan’s
mate, holding her so close to his body that her head rested on his shoulder.

In that instant Zan didn’t care if they were lovers, friends, or even married. All he knew was that some other male was too damn close to his female, and that male needed to die.

“Whoa there, big boy,” the blond man on the bed said. Though his tone was amused, there was nothing lazy or funny in the watchful look aimed at Zan through half-closed eyes. “DocCha wouldn’t be pleased waking up to find her good buddy Ben in bloody pieces.” Zan paused in his approach. “What’s she to you?” It came out as a growl.

Ben never took his eyes off Zan. Smart man. “She’s under my protection.”

“She doesn’t need protection from me.”

“Boy, if you could see the way you look, you’d be cautious too.

And until you get yourself under control, I’m not moving.” Zan sneered. “Hiding behind a female?”

“Protecting a female.”

That was the second time Ben used that word, which only pissed Zan off even more. As if he’d ever let harm come to his woman. Besides, if anyone was going to protect Jackie, it would be Zan. He lifted his chin.

“I’d never hurt her.”

Ben sent Zan his own sneer, his tone now holding a clear warning that couldn’t be missed. “I don’t care if you are Dean’s brother. I don’t know you. And until I’m good and ready to believe the best of you, I’m not leaving Jackie’s side.”

Logically, Zan could understand and even appreciate the cautiousness the other shifter smoothly executed. Emotionally, he wanted to rip the man apart. After a moment, Zan closed his eyes and took in deep lungfuls of air through his mouth, knowing if he pulled in the mixed scent of Ben and Jackie through his nose his wolf just might break free and cause bodily damage. Pushing aside the anger and possessiveness clawing at the very fiber of his being, he concentrated on reigning in his beast.

“That’s good.” There was nothing patronizing in Ben’s tone, only soothing approval.

Several minutes later, Zan felt more like himself. Composed, he opened his eyes, flicking his gaze from Jackie to Ben and back again.

Though the sight of Jackie’s head resting on Ben’s shoulder still pissed him off, he now realized that both were clothed, on top of the covers and there was no scent of sex in the air. In fact, another quick glance and sniff at Ben revealed no sexual interest.

Zan’s muscles finally unclenched and he asked the first thing that popped into his mind. “DocCha?”

“Hmmm. An affectionate nickname some of us have for one Dr.

Jackie Chavez. Though,” he grinned as Jackie wiggled against him, starting to wake, “maybe I should start calling her cuddle bunny.” Zan’s wolf snipped at him. Promising both of them he’d retaliate the teasing by breaking several bones in the younger shifter’s body, Zan watched Jackie’s eyes flutter open.

As if shocked by a cattle prod, she scrambled into a sitting position. “What are you doing here?” she asked Ben, frowning in confusion.

Zan couldn’t take his eyes off her. She looked warm and sleepy and so bed-tousled that he simply wanted to toss Ben out of the room and join Jackie on the mattress. His erection, which had eased off, now rose hot and heavy as his libido overcame the aches in his body. When Jackie turned her sleepy brown eyes to him he took an instinctive step forward.

“You shouldn’t be out of bed, Zan.”

He almost blurted out that he was just about to go back to bed, with her, when Ben said in a petulant coax, “I was trying to get you up. I’m hungry. Fix me breakfast.”

To Zan’s intense satisfaction, Jackie slugged Ben in the stomach.

“Get out of my bed you beast and make your own damn breakfast.” Laughing, Ben rolled out of bed and sauntered past Zan. “I’ll be right in the kitchen,” he said lightly. Only Zan took it for the warning it was.

“Yes, well.” Zan swung his head back at Jackie’s words. “How do you feel?”

He shrugged with careful deliberation, enjoying the way her eyes tracked the movement. “Achy all over.”

Her eyes dropped onto his chest and slowly moved lower. He felt a sudden need to puff out his chest and preen, to show off his strength and masculinity, despite his wounds. “That’s to be expected. I, uh,” she cleared her throat. “I should probably check your bandages.” With her gaze now seemingly fixated on his groin, it appeared she had other things on her mind she wanted to check out. Zan wanted to growl in approval. Unfortunately, his brain cells had fled south for the duration. “If you wanted my pants off, Doc, all you had to do was ask.” Her eyes snapped back to his. “The only reason I’d strip you of your pants is so I could strangle you with them.” Though he could claim his comment had been far from smooth, the heat of her response took him aback. While women didn’t exactly throw themselves at his feet, harsh retorts weren’t the norm. It was even more confusing since he understood that the mating heat made it nearly impossible for mates to resist one another. And there was no mistaking his crazy attraction to this dark-haired doctor who was practically a stranger to him for anything other than the mating heat.

Her scent had drawn him from unconsciousness last night. A light mixing of orange blossoms and cloves that he’d longed to possess before reality had even crept in. Barely breaking through the drug and pain induced sleep, he’d caught movement through his wolf eyes and thought what he craved in his dream was leaving him. Reacting on instinct, he’d grasped his prey between his jaws, only to realize that that enticing scent belonged to a human. No. To a female shifter. The female shifter that, if he read all the signs right, was his mate. And he was very good at reading signs. He’d kissed the palm of her hand last night, both needing the physical contact, and reassuring himself that yes, Jackie was indeed his.

Even now he was damn near intoxicated by her scent.

Possessiveness and lust already brewed thick and hot in his veins. But maybe, just maybe, it took the females longer to register the phenomena.

Despite his desire to strip her naked and stake his claim, which was only compounded by the fact she was already conveniently in a soft bed, he instantly sized up the situation and realized he’d need to throttle back his libido. And while patience was something he had in spades, a necessity in his line of work, he had a feeling it might just kill him in this regard.

Before him, Jackie sagged and shut her eyes. “I apologize. That was uncalled for. I’m…” she paused, “just not a morning person.” Though he didn’t think that was what she planned to say, he went along with it. For now. “And I apologize for my comment. Let’s just chalk it up to being…overwhelmed.”

Her eyes opened with relief. “Agreed. Let’s start over. I’m going to check your wounds. And while I know you’re in pain, let me know if anything feels extremely tender or hot. Either could be signs of infection.” Gritting his teeth, Zan forced himself to remain still as she slowly ran her hands over his chest. Closing his eyes only intensified her deft touch, making it harder to keep his hands at his side. He wanted to tangle them in her hair, fill them with the sweet curves of her ass he couldn’t help noticing last night, and hold her tight to his throbbing erection.

The idea had so much merit that he tilted his head up and glared at the ceiling, hands in fists at his side.

“You lost a lot of blood last night.” Oblivious to Zan’s internal struggle, Jackie dipped her hands under the edge of his sweats to check the gash on his hip. His eyes crossed at the unintentional caress.

“Thank you for caring for me.” Though he was undoubtedly thankful, the husky timbre of his voice was due to the sheer
want
coursing through his system.

“With your accelerated healing and metabolism, you’re probably hungry.”

Oh, God yes. Yes he was. He dropped his gaze and from her small gasp, he knew he couldn’t hide the type and depth of his hunger. Under the cotton top he could see her nipples pearl, which only intensified his desire.

If he didn’t step back, he was going to do something that, while he wouldn’t regret, he somehow knew Jackie would.

“If you wouldn’t mind, I could use some food.” As if on cue, the sizzle and scent of cooking sausage wafted through the door.

Jackie blinked, as if his words freed her from a trance, then she backed quickly away to slide out from the bed. “Certainly. Help yourself.

It sounds like Ben already has.” She crossed to a door he assumed went to a bathroom and added, “I’ll be out in just a minute.” Zan blew out a harsh breath and used up that minute to get his body under control. Then he padded into the kitchen where Ben had indeed made himself at home. He was by the stove, cutting up potatoes while he kept an eye on the frying sausage.

Zan sat down at the small kitchen table, wincing as the move pulled on the stitches at his hip.

“Here,” Ben dropped potatoes, a cutting board and a large knife in front of Zan. “I take it you know how to use one of these?” Zan nearly smirked because, yeah, he could handle a knife. “I get by.” At ease, he began chopping potatoes into inch squares.

Ben watched the flash of the blade and gave an approving grunt.

“So, how’d you and Dean get separated as kids?” The blunt question threw Zan off guard. He paused and looked up, just as Jackie entered the kitchen. Her face was dewy, as if she’d just washed it, no make-up highlighted the curves of her cheekbones or slicked over the soft plumb of her lips. Her hair was tidy once again, pulled into a thick tail at her back.

She glared at Ben as she sat across the table from Zan. “That’s rude, and none of our business, Ben.”

“And your point?”

Despite himself, or because of his innate humor that had all but disappeared several months ago, Zan chuckled. “I don’t mind.” Jackie turned her doe brown eyes to him and a southern body part reared its greedy head. “You don’t mind?”

The only thing he minded right now was Ben’s presence. Biting back a groan, he returned to his task. “I actually don’t remember much. In fact, I didn’t know I was adopted until I was fifteen and had pissed off my older sister for the millionth time. I thought the strange memories I had of an older brother were dreams, or a figment of my imagination.” He shrugged it away. “When I was about six, my family was killed. My mom was able to escape with me, but she died shortly after.” He reached for another potato, organizing his thoughts away from what he’d thought horrible nightmares and not reality. Though the memories were no longer confusing, the terror and blood he’d witnessed at such a young age had left him with many agonizing nights, until he’d finally been told the truth and been able to understand and separate his past family with his current one. Truth, to him, was big on his list. He couldn’t stand liars, which was in itself a double standard considering some of the lies he’d effortlessly spewed out during his missions.

“Zan?”

He looked up to see Jackie watching him, the concern in her expression making him want to cuddle her close. Which was odd because while he was instinctively a protector and enjoyed, even craved, touch like any other shifter, he wasn’t a cuddler. Just ask any of his past lovers.