Awakened By The Wolf. Kristal Hollis

around his finger.

      Mine.

      The word droned with each beat of his heart. To which Brice’s mind replied with an emphatic “No.”

      He dropped the curl and tucked his hands beneath his head. Each breath he took reeled her scent deeper into his lungs. His body hardened with desire and the effort to resist it.

      As a distraction, Brice focused on counting. Somewhere around eight hundred, sleep dulled his lust. Until Cassie scooted next to him. He’d never fall back to sleep with the curve of her ass burrowed into him.

      Ignoring the prudence of sleeping on the couch, Brice turned on his side. He spooned against her, his arm draped naturally across her hip. When her small hand cradled his, Brice slipped into blissful oblivion.

      * * *

      Pain exploded across Brice’s face. He sat up, howling obscenities.

      Cassie jumped out of bed and turned on the light.

      Brice cupped his nose. “Why the hell did you hit me?”

      “My head bopped your face when I jerked awake because you were squeezing my, my—never mind.” The flush in Cassie’s skin deepened. “It was an accident. I’m really sorry.”

      “You broke my nose.” The throb was almost as bad as the pain in his leg last night.

      “You should’ve stayed on your side of the bed.” The worry etched on her face diffused his temper. Her brave but timid steps toward him ignited something more dangerous.

      “It’s my bed. Both sides are mine.”

      Slowly her hands cradled his face, and she tilted back his head. Her lips parted slightly, and Brice no longer registered pain, because every cell in his body primed him for a kiss.

      His muscles coiled like tightly wound springs. He dug his fingers into the mattress, fighting what he’d never wanted so badly in all his life.

      “No blood, no swelling. Nothing crooked. I don’t think it’s broken.” The strain eased from her face.

      “Are you sure? A wolfan’s nose is very sensitive. What if I can’t smell you anymore?” The waver in his voice was instinctual, intending to draw her closer when he should have pushed her away.

      “I’m sure it’s fine.” But she wasn’t sure at all, because she bit her lip and skimmed her thumbs down the sides of his nose, sending shock waves throughout his body.

      “You should kiss it to make me feel better.” What the hell was wrong with him? He should have put distance between them instead of enticing her to continue.

      Cassie’s contemplative gaze searched his face. Brice’s heart beat an erratic rhythm, and his lungs grabbed short, quick breaths.

      God, if she actually kissed him, he’d lose all control.

      “You big faker.” Cassie shoved him.

      Relieved, Brice caught her around the waist and buried his face in the curve of her neck. He needed her scent as consolation to temper his arousal.

      “I have to get dressed,” she finally said.

      “Call in.” He tried to tug her back into bed with a promise to himself to behave if she’d stay.

      “I’m not sick.” Bracing her knees against the mattress for leverage, she pulled free.

      “I will be if you leave.” The thought of hours bereft of her scent and her company churned his stomach.

      “Maybe you should call a doctor.” Cassie hesitated. “Or do you have vets?”

      “The pack physician,” he ground out, “is Doc Habersham, my dad’s best friend. I can’t call him or anyone else. I won’t risk getting thrown out of the territory before Granny comes home.”

      “Figure something out. I’m not missing work.” Cassie pulled one of her uniforms from the closet. As far as Brice could tell, those were the only clothes she had unpacked.

      He flopped onto the mattress. “Come see me on your break.”

      “I won’t have time. I have to reschedule my car service because you ate my pie.”

      Brice’s tongue swept his lips. “What does one have to do with the other?”

      “It’s a barter with Rafe. He changes the oil in the clunker in exchange for a fresh-baked pie.”

      “I can’t blame him. Granny’s pies are delicious.”

      “Your grandmother doesn’t bake.” Cassie bent over to pick up her shoes, and the bottom of her shorts rode up her legs to give him a glimpse of her panties.

      He swallowed a groan. “Granny made pies for me every time I came home from college.”

      Shaking her head, Cassie turned toward him, a corner of her bottom lip caught between her teeth.

      “You made them?” Brice rose on his elbows. “For me?”

      “Like I said—” Cassie avoided his gaze “—your grandmother doesn’t bake.”

      “Damn, Sunshine. Your pies are the best.” One more reason he should have detached himself from Cassie. Sex and food were a wolfan male’s catnip.

      “Thanks. I use my mother’s recipes.” Cassie’s eyes misted. She flinched and hurried toward the bedroom door.

      “I’m not sorry I ate the pie, but I’ll pay for the oil change and anything else you need.” It would be easy enough to transfer money from one of his accounts to hers.

      She stopped, a disquiet fierceness in her eyes. “I don’t want your money. I may not have much, but what I do have, I’ve earned.”

      She walked out, her spine and shoulders stiff.

      Well, he’d unintentionally struck a nerve.

      Brice sank into the mattress. He hadn’t meant to upset her, but if he followed her down the hallway to apologize, he’d only complicate his situation. No matter what his errant instinct demanded, he couldn’t involve himself in Cassie’s life.

      No matter how damn good she smelled.

       Chapter 9

      The old clunker needed five cranks before it started. Cassie backed the car out of the driveway and eased down the dirt road, headlights slicing through the darkness. The silent woods had never seemed more eerie or sinister. Of course, she blamed her knowledge that werewolves did exist on the change in her perception.

      She glanced at the passenger seat Brice had reclined so far that it almost touched the backseat. If only last night had been a dream, or if he hadn’t explained that the members of the Walker’s Run Cooperative were really his entire pack, she wouldn’t have been so nervous.

      Brice insisted the wolf people were just as they appeared—honest, hardworking folks. The co-op provided housing and medical care for its members, paid for their college educations and helped them establish businesses. In turn, its members tithed 30 percent of their salaries or gross profits back to the co-op.

      If members became unemployed or if their businesses failed, the co-op helped them get back on their feet. They had no need for unemployment checks or welfare. This pack took care of its own.

      In contrast, Cassie’s life lacked supportive connections. Imogene was gone, and Cassie could count on one finger the number of friends she’d had in her twenty-four years. A little girl named Grace had been her constant companion in the second grade, and Cassie had loved her like a sister.

      One summer night, Imogene had packed Cassie and their few belongings in the car and left town. Once they settled in a new place, Imogene refused to let Cassie contact Grace. Imogene’s philosophy had been never to look back. Only forward. That