Awakened By The Wolf. Kristal Hollis
not—” he dodged the second book “—a pervert.”
Projectiles of various sizes targeted him with the precision of heat-seeking missiles. Who knew a woman’s hair and beauty products did double duty as a weapons arsenal?
He slid to the floor, using the bed as a shield. “I can explain.”
“Not interested.”
A wolf doll dressed in a tiny Maico High jersey bounced on the floor next to him. Either the woman had been an athlete in school or she had dated one. Since she looked too small and fragile to have played sports, Brice assumed the latter.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he grumbled, holding the stuffed animal to his nose. After a few futile sniffs, he tossed the toy aside and peeked over the mattress.
Her impromptu armament depleted, the woman’s gaze ricocheted around the room. “Just leave and I’ll forget you were here.”
Guilt plagued Brice’s conscience. He knew from experience how helpless she felt being trapped. Tomorrow, after he and Granny talked, Brice would issue the frightened woman profuse apologies for what he was about to do.
In the territory without permission, sleep-deprived and beyond exhaustion, he couldn’t risk anyone else discovering his presence. Tying her to the bed so he could get some sleep seemed like his best option.
An unexpected thrill electrified his body, temporarily numbing Brice’s pain. Another time, another place, he would have had an entirely different motivation for tying her up. He almost smiled.
“Easy, sweetheart.” He stood, hands lifted in mock surrender.
“I am not your sweetheart.”
For some illogical reason, Brice felt the distinct need to disagree. However, the critical way she assessed him down to his bare toes made him think that she found him lacking.
Or not.
Before he could cover himself again, she jerked the ugly comforter off the bed and stashed it behind her.
“Like what you see?” He straightened to his full six-foot-four height.
“Hardly.” She swept a mass of curls from her heart-shaped face. “What I’d like to see is your ass walking out the front door.”
“Not going to happen.” Brice smirked. He liked that the woman had spunk in spades. “Look, darlin’. All I want is a good night’s sleep. Preferably with you next to me, all sweet and cuddly.”
“Yeah, that’s not going to happen, either.” She stuffed her small feet into a pair of worn sneakers. Her gaze teetered between him and the bedroom door.
His predatory senses sparked. “I wouldn’t try it if I were you.”
“It’s a good thing you aren’t me.” Her chin tilted and one eyebrow arched as if upping his challenge. She snatched the lamp from the nightstand and yanked the plug from the outlet.
If the little spitfire thought dousing the light gave her the advantage, she was oh-so-wrong. In milliseconds, Brice’s eyes adapted to the darkness.
The lamp shattered near his unprotected feet. Shards of glass skittered across the wood floor. She dashed past him and he couldn’t intercept. Not without slicing his soles.
Damn.
The woman was smart. Cunning. Fast.
And the chase was on.
Adrenaline shot through Brice’s body like rocket fuel burning through his veins. His heart pounded to near rupture. Using the bed as a springboard, he leaped over the broken lamp pieces and landed solidly on his good leg.
“You can’t outrun me.” Even with his handicap, in his wolf form Brice could outpace a human.
“Watch me.” The lithe woman dodged him around the living room furniture.
His mouth did not have permission to spread into a ridiculous smile. It did anyway. Growing broader and more outrageous by the second.
She sprinted to the front door. He heard the lock click and the door swung open. He lunged to capture her. His chest slammed into her shoulder, forcing his breath out with a harsh oomph!
Brice turned her during the tackle so that he took the brunt of their fall. God, it was good to feel playful again. And she was the best kind of playmate. Soft and warm, with just the right amount of pluck.
“Let. Me. Go.” She shoved him with more strength than he expected. He struggled to maintain his hold.
“Take it easy,” he grunted. “I won’t hurt you.”
She head-butted his shoulder. Every time her hair swept his skin, desire—hot and demanding—tore through him. Totally inappropriate and ill-timed considering the circumstances.
His wolf nature didn’t care. This woman wore his clothes, slept in his bed and wrestled him with the strength of a she-wolf in heat. To a Wahya male, her behavior was an open invitation.
However, fear marked her scent, not desire. Brice needed to tamp down the carnal thoughts before his primal instinct overruled his intellect and he gave her a real reason to be frightened.
Finally he flipped her onto her back.
“Get off me!” She landed a solid punch against his nose.
Brice’s head jerked.
“Damn, that hurt.” Hurt like hell.
Before she could do further damage, he latched onto her hands, pinning them over her head. She kicked his shin. Thankfully it wasn’t his bad leg or his instinct would have been to retaliate rather than to restrain.
“Calm down before you get hurt,” he snarled, using his body to flatten her to the porch.
He gave in to the instinct to snuffle her hair. In one long, indulgent breath, he inhaled without expectation, though he desperately wanted to smell something. Anything. Even dirty dandruff was preferable to nothing.
To his utter disbelief, a soft, feminine fragrance teased his nose. Convinced he imagined the scent, he sniffed a second time to be sure, moving from her provocative red curls to the dimpled spot just behind her ear. As he breathed in, her sweet, luscious musk filtered through his body, warming him like beams of sunshine.
“God, you smell good,” he gushed like an eager pubescent boy trying to get to second base.
“Get away from me.” The woman bucked, and the rub of her pelvis against his crotch ignited a craving that would culminate in an all-out home run if she didn’t stop.
“Be still,” he rasped. “I only want to smell you. But if you continue thrusting your hips at me, I’ll lose what control I have and do more than scent you.”
She went limp, although the daggers in her eyes remained unsheathed.
Tired, horny and more than a little confused, Brice appreciated the reprieve. He wanted to gorge on her intoxicating scent without battling her and his super-charged libido. “Don’t be frightened, Sunshine. I won’t hurt you.”
He rubbed against her. She was soft, spirited, with a mouth-watering scent—a combo like that could bring a wolfan to his knees. “You have no idea how happy I am to smell you.”
A droning thud in his head joined the possessive thump in his chest. Resonating one beat, one word. Over and over and over again. Mine. Mine. Mine.
Oh, no. No, no, no. Fuck no.
“This isn’t happening,” he mumbled.
“You got that right.” She jammed her knee against his crotch.
Excruciating pain screamed through Brice’s groin. The air swooshed