Stalk (Hotblooded Book 1) Page 6

  Nick said nothing while she gathered up his wet clothes that he’d left on her brick hearth. “I’m putting these in the dryer. I’ll be back with something to cover you until they’re dry.”

  In a couple of minutes she returned wearing a plaid flannel robe. She handed him a thin white cotton blanket and a big gray sweatshirt that said, ‘Mouse Club Rules’.

  “You can tie this blanket around your waist. The sweatshirt is huge on me. It will probably still be too small for you, but it’s better than nothing.” Her eyes drifted downward when Nick cocked his head to the side. “Okay. Well, you’re right. In your case nothing can’t be beat, but I don’t want you to get cold.” She turned a switch that started a gas fire in the fireplace. “Back in a few.”

  Nick dutifully tied the blanket around his waist like a sarong, pulled the sweatshirt over his head, and sat down in the chair by the fire to replay the events that had led them to such an unexpected curiosity.

  He remembered that her scent had flared when she’d bitten him. Shortly thereafter, the scent spiked and he’d been rendered mindless with the need to couple with the woman. He hadn’t been put off by the bite. If anything, it had amped his arousal higher and swelled his cock with a demanding need like he’d never felt before.

  Skipping over everything he knew about making love to a woman, he’d proceeded to practically ravage her. He believed, or rather hoped, that, if she’d given any indication of displeasure, he would have stopped. But at the same time, he wasn’t entirely sure that would have been possible.

  No matter how many times or how many ways he replayed the events in his mind, the conclusion was inescapable. Somehow, some way, Reese Braga had torn into her sofa, perhaps with nails and teeth, and had no memory of doing so.

  She shuffled into the living room wearing loose pink cotton leggings and a matching long sleeved sleep shirt and Ugg shearling house shoes. She was adorable. She might also be dangerous. Not to him, of course. But maybe to herself or others. Certainly to furniture.

  She had two glasses and a bottle of wine, which she set down. She then took the warm wash cloth that had been pinched between two fingers and reached over to clean the blood away from Nick’s mouth.

  He held still thinking he liked the nurturing attention. After a couple of seconds, she pulled back and said, “That’s odd. There’s no mark. No bruise. No indication anything happened.”

  “I’m a fast healer,” Nick said, in an understatement that would have made any member of his pack laugh.

  She handed him a glass. Nick didn’t normally drink wine, but he was eager to make Reese feel at ease in any way he could. If the goal was to have her relax, refusing wine wasn’t a good start. So he took the glass she offered and held it still while she poured.

  He didn’t tell her when to stop. He let her decide how much she thought he should have.

  The sight of the sofa caused her to balk, like she’d just remembered, but she managed to suck it up and sit down next to the rips with the poise of aristocracy.

  She took a sip of wine and looked at Nick over the top of her glass. “Did you give me a drug?”

  “Of course not. Don’t be insulting.”

  “You didn’t give me a drug,” she repeated. “Are you aware that anyone else gave me a drug? While we were out?”

  “Not to my knowledge.” He paused, then added, “We did consume things that were prepared out of our sight. So I guess we can’t rule that out.”

  “I can’t think of any other reason why I would…” She waved a finger in the general direction of his face.

  “Bite me. Why you would bite me?”

  She closed her eyes and sighed deeply. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m also mortified.”

  “No need for apologies or mortification. I know you didn’t mean to do it.”

  “I mean I’ve never done anything like that before in my life.” She looked down at her flawless forearm like there was something invisible there. “Billy Emory bit me really, really hard in first grade. You could see the imprint of his teeth marks for a long time.” She looked at Nick, who didn’t know how he was supposed to respond so he nodded. “I mean it’s not unusual for kids to bite. Some do. Some don’t. I wasn’t one of those who did. So I think it’d be overly strange to start at my age and for no reason.”

  “I agree.”

  She looked over at the stuffing coming out of the sofa and took another drink of wine. “I know what you’re thinking.”

  “What’s that?”

  “That I did this.” When Nick made no reply, she pinned him with an accusatory glare. “Aren’t you?”

  “Well, there were only two of us here. And it wasn’t me.”

  “So what? You’re using deductive reasoning?”

  “What’s your theory?”

  Reese’s shoulders sagged. She sat back and refused to look directly at Nick. “I can’t imagine being able to do that.” She held up her perfectly manicured hands. “Some people like pointy nails. I don’t. See? Rounded.” And hot pink. “I don’t think I could rip this upholstery with these nails if it was a life or death matter.” Her eyes flew to his. “And it couldn’t be my teeth either. As you know, I’m a picky eater. I can’t imagine stuffing in my mouth. Just thinking about it makes me want to go ‘puh’.” For good measure she said it twice more. “Puh! Puh!”

  Nick had to chuckle. Even when she was discombobulated, she was cute.

  “You’re right,” he said. “I don’t think the sofa was torn up with those nails and those teeth.”

  She blinked three times. “What are you thinking?”

  “It’s kind of a wild theory.” It was more a fantasy than theory and ‘wild’ didn’t begin to cover it, but he hadn’t been in the new world long enough to be a hundred percent sure about how things worked.

  With a shrug, she said, “I don’t see how the explanation can be wilder than the event.”

  Nick was a businessman. Not a diplomat. And pussyfooting simply wasn’t his style. He thought about how to broach the subject, but decided that the rip-the-Bandaid-off method would be better for everybody. Of course, it would also be a huge gamble because if he was wrong… On the other hand, if she showed up at the police station saying that her stalker was also a werewolf, it would clear him from suspicion and make her a person of interest. If she couldn’t be trusted, it would be better to find out sooner rather than later.

  “I think you might be a werewolf,” he said flatly.

  She stared for a few seconds and then rolled her eyes. Deciding that she was the biggest fool in the western hemisphere for allowing herself to believe that anything good could come from a relationship that began with stalking, she said with sarcasm meant for herself alone, “Well, that would explain everything.”

  “It would,” he nodded, taking the comment seriously.

  When she saw that Nick appeared to be serious, she felt a fissure of fear run up her spine. What had she been thinking when she invited a stalker into her life?

  “You are joking. Right?”

  “How do I smell?” he replied.

  “Smell?” she repeated. Truthfully? He smelled like the best cologne that had ever been manufactured. And, oddly, now that he mentioned it, she could smell him from where she was, about six feet away. These were the thoughts that ran through her mind, but she didn’t want to encourage him by giving voice to the insanity. She looked at her watch and stood up. “Oh, look. Time for you to go. I’ve got stuff to do tomorrow and, you know, it’s not a full moon. So my energy is a little low.”

  “You bit me. Drew blood. Noted, all on your own, that I healed. Really fast.” He glanced at the sofa for emphasis. “Ripped up your sofa and again, noted all on your own, that this kind of damage would have been impossible with pretty little pink rounded nails and small, even human teeth.” He shook his head slightly. “That damage was done with claws and fangs.”

  Reese opened her mouth to protest and tell him just how crazy he was, but it seemed that Nick S
igil wasn’t done. “You can smell me from over there. I see it on your face.” He smirked knowingly. “And I smell good. Don’t I.” It wasn’t a question, but a proclamation punctuated by adding, “Really good.”

  She closed her mouth, unable to argue with that because, goddammit, he did smell really good. From across the room!

  He stood and took a step closer. With a wariness she hadn’t expressed since the night she’d marched across the street and accused him of nefarious stalking, as opposed to plain old regular stalking, Reese took a cautious step away, toward the door. He allowed the increased distance between them. The last thing he wanted to do was ratchet the emotion higher. “Before you write me and my theory off, why don’t we try an experiment?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “What kind of experiment? I mean,” she shook her head, “no. You should leave, Nick. I’m not a werewolf and neither are you.”

  Nick was aware that in the world where he presently found himself, werewolves appeared only as figures of fiction at the extremes of horror and romance. He’d wondered how werewolves had managed to imprint on the collective subconscious of a species who had never encountered real shifters, supposedly, but knew it wasn’t the right time for fanciful discussion.

  “You sure?”

  She gave him a look. “Yeah. Really damn sure.”

  “Then you’d be wrong.”

  He growled low in his throat, a deep rumbling vibration that was definitely not human. It wasn’t human, but apparently it was of great interest to Reese because she felt every hair on her body stand up and not because of fear, because of interest.

  “What…?” She wasn’t sure what she was going to ask.

  “That’s right. I’m a shifter and I’m not the only one. I live with six others. Up in the mountains. Come with me and I’ll show you.”

  With lines forming between her brows, she took another step toward the door. “Come with you?” She was shaking her head. “Look. I admit something strange happened here,” she glanced at the couch, “but… Look. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but if I was a werewolf, I think I’d have known it by now.”

  Nodding, Nick said, “That seems logical, but maybe something about our coupling woke up your shifter side. I don’t have all the answers. It’s as big a surprise to me as it is to you.” He looked thoughtful. “It would explain why you smell so damn good to me though. Sexy. Potent. So sweet I can’t stay away.”

  “This is just…”

  “I know I’m botching this and I really don’t want to. But I don’t have answers. I never heard of anything like this happening before.” He paused before adding, “But I’m new here.”

  “New here? You’re saying stuff like this happens in Canada?”

  He’d told her he was from Canada and had moved because of the opportunity opened up by the burgeoning cannabis industry. He frowned and then dropped his head, caught in a quandary. If he admitted he’d lied, why would she believe anything else he said? The only way out was the truth and the truth was sure to drive her farther away.

  On the other hand, if he was right and Reese had some kind of dormancy that could be triggered, she would be a danger to herself and others until she understood her nature and knew how to control it.

  “Just bear with me for a hypothetical minute. Strange things happen in the world. Would you at least agree with that?”

  Grudgingly, she said, “Yes.”

  “What if what I was saying was true? Farfetched and crazy as it sounds. What if you had shifter genes just lying in wait for a certain signal? If you never encountered a werewolf, you’d never know they were there. You’d live your life and die believing you’re fully human.”

  “I am fully human,” she protested.

  His features softened. “It’s only natural to resist an idea that seems radical.”

  “Radical? No. Impossible!”

  He held up a hand. “I would feel the same way. If you tried to tell me I only think I’m a shifter, but I’m really an ogre, I wouldn’t believe you either. But just pretend for a minute.”

  “Standing here, contemplating pretending that you’re not utterly insane, even for a minute, is more absurd than anything else that’s happened tonight. Or ever! Now take off my sweatshirt. Go get your clothes out of the dryer. And vamoose.”

  As he pulled the sweatshirt over his head, he said, “But what if, Reese? If you’re a shifter whose abilities have just been awakened, you could create a truckload of problems by not learning about your nature and how to control your impulses.” He leaned against the back of the sofa. “Try this. Tomorrow morning you go down the block for coffee at The Bean on your way to work. Somebody in line accidentally bumps into you with the coffee they just picked up. The lid comes off and now you’re wearing steaming hot coffee. Your clothes are ruined and the heat’s uncomfortable.

  “Normally you’d say a few choice words, come back and change, and that would be that.” He paused. She waited for the rest of the scenario. “But if it turns out I’m right and you’re either an awakened shifter or turning, and you’re surprised, then the same scene could end with freaking the fuck out of a shop full of coffee lovers as they watch your cute and perky nose turn into a muzzle while long and very lethal white fangs descend.” For emphasis he pointed to the sofa. “If you were sufficiently startled, or afraid, you could easily strike out with pearly white fangs and the poor klutz who stumbled into you would be dead before you could count to two.”

  Nick was wondering if he should’ve painted a somewhat less graphic image. But he needed her to grasp the risk she might pose.

  “I…” She started, stopped, then whispered, “You are crazy. Right? You need help?”

  “Reese.” His face softened and he was nearing the willingness to beg if necessary. “One experiment is worth a hundred speculations. Let’s find out. If you’re changing, you want to know. You need to know. If you’re not, then something weird happened with the couch. End of story.”

  She seemed to be thinking that over. “You think you picked me because you could smell that I’m different?” Keeping his gaze riveted to her, he nodded slowly. She chuffed out a self-deprecating laugh. “That’s not very flattering.”

  “I love the way you smell so much I can’t even describe it. It’s like a drug to me. But that’s not all there is to you. Sometime, some other time, I’ll tell you all the other things I like about you just as much.”

  Reese’s defenses were failing. What woman wouldn’t like to hear words like that? Even when being spoken by an escapee from reality.

  There was no denying his sincerity. It was written all over him. She was far from convinced that he wasn’t nuts, but somehow he’d managed to pierce her concrete veil of certainty and had opened a tiny fissure of ‘what if?’

  “I’m not saying that I buy one syllable of this preposterous story,” she glanced at the sofa, again, “but just because I’ve always prided myself on having an open mind…” She blew out a breath. “What experiment?”

  Nick’s best excuse for not having a ready answer to that was that he hadn’t really thought he’d get that far. He knew he had to shake her out of her comfort zone to a point that was likely to bring her wolf out.

  Werewolves learned as children that there was a part of their personality that was protective of them and that it provoked fur, claws, and fangs. They learned to control it fast because they had either mothers or caretakers who knew how to deliver a sharp rap to the snout. Wolves don’t like too-firm taps on the snout and will behave themselves to avoid it.

  He had no idea what he might do with a fully grown woman turning shifter, but suspected that, in Reese’s case, based on the courage it took to confront a stalker, the bite to his lip, and the fact that she hadn’t already called for a padded truck, Nick might try a tap on her snout and draw back a fingerless hand. He almost smiled at the image of a female to play with, run with, sleep with, and fuck. He’d never had a female of his own.

  Of course, he’d been wi
th humans, but there were far more male than female shifters. He hadn’t ever so much as allowed himself to fantasize about being one of the lucky males who mated.

  “Nick?”

  He realized he’d been lost in thought. “Hmmm?”

  “Wow. You just checked out on me.”

  “No. I…”

  “Don’t bother. You did. I saw you. What were you thinking about?”

  “Oh. I, ah…”

  “Right. I know my vowels, too. You were supposed to be telling me about the experiment?”

  No. He wasn’t supposed to be telling her about the experiment. The kind of experiment he had in mind would be pointless if he told her about it in advance. Because it required the element of surprise.

  Faster than her mind could change gears he charged her, bending right before impact, tucking his shoulder into her pelvis and lifting so that she fell into a perfect fireman’s carry position.

  “Nick!” she shrieked.

  Hearing that, he knew it was not enough. Not enough surprise or concern to bring out the wolf. He knew the next move was the biggest gamble he’d ever make. It might win him a mate. It might cost him a chance with Reese Braga.

  While he was trying to figure out what to do next, she was wiggling and insisting on being put down in between calling him names that would make even a mature werewolf blush.

  With his left arm locked across her thighs, he used his right hand to drag her pajama leggings down far enough to bare her derriere. He couldn’t resist turning his head and burying his face against her skin and filling his lungs with the tantalizing scent.

  “Stop smelling me and put me the fuck down!” She was sounding more indignant by the second.

  When she took a breath to continue the tirade, a crack rang out and the momentary silence ended in utter, though brief, stillness. Nick had brought his palm down on her ass hard enough to make a loud noise and temporary sting, but not hard enough to bruise or create lasting discomfort.

  It seemed that the lupine in Reese, newly awakened, didn’t see the slap as harmless fun.