Charmed By The Wolf
Noticing Tristan, Cassie giggled.
“I’ve never met a man who could steal my breath with a simple look.” Men as gorgeous as Tristan never took notice of Nel. Their gazes simply swept right over her without a moment’s pause.
“He’s headed this way,” Cassie said.
“What?” Penelope’s heart kicked into high gear, beating fast and furious, and flooding her body with so much giddy adrenaline that she nearly swayed from a wave of light-headedness.
Breathe, just breathe.
Halfway across the lobby, Tristan stopped, slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out a cell phone. His smile turned downward as he held the device to his ear. While talking, he tipped his head back and ran his fingers through his hair.
Penelope figured the conversation was over when the hand holding the phone dropped to Tristan’s side. His gaze returned to her.
Maybe next time, sweet cheeks.
He nodded in her direction, took a few steps backward, then turned on his heel and headed toward the corridor to Gavin’s office.
“Did you hear that?”
Tristan had been too far away for Nel to actually hear anything he said, but his deep, Southern drawl hummed in her head.
“Hear what?” Cassie looked around.
“Someone called me sweet cheeks, just now.” And when she’d been frightened by the wolf in the woods.
“Sorry, I didn’t hear anything.”
Maybe the higher altitude and fresh mountain air had induced some sort of auditory hallucination.
More likely it was her hormones running amuck.
“Why is Tristan here? Is there a problem with one of the guests?”
“Everything is fine. He’s a member of the Walker’s Run Cooperative and helps manage the resort’s security as well as the wolf sanctuary.” Cassie pointed to a corner nook. “We can wait for Grace over there.”
“Does he patrol the area around the rental cabins?” Penelope sat in a cozy overstuffed chair next to Cassie.
“Sometimes. Why?”
“Friday night, I walked one of the trails from the cabin and thought I heard his voice.”
“He was on duty so it could’ve been him. What did he say?”
“Basically, he told me to sit up.”
“Sit up?” Cassie’s nose wrinkled and her brows drew together. “That’s weird. Were you lying down?”
“Hunkered down. I fell trying to get away from an animal making terrible noise in the woods. Scared the daylights out of me.”
“It was probably Cybil. The old sow sounds like an elephant stampede whenever she gets out of her pen. Her owner lives on the border of the wolf sanctuary. Usually the sentinels round her up before she makes it this far.”
“Sentinels?”
“The Co-op’s security team.”
“Ah.” Penelope picked at the drop of glue stuck to the front of her blouse. “Well, I didn’t see a pig, but I did encounter a huge wolf.”
Cassie’s friendly expression blanked. “Can you describe him?”
“His coat looked like burnished gold, but really was a mix of warm, rich colors.” Penelope’s voice rose with excitement. “And his ears were absolutely delightful, like chocolate brownies with the edges dusted in white sugar. He was the sweetest thing. Didn’t growl or bark at me, and he followed me back to the cabin to make sure I got in safe.”
“He did, did he?” One of Cassie’s red brows arched.
“He won’t get into trouble, will he?” If the poor thing was put in heavy chains, forced to wear a muzzle or locked in a cage, Penelope would be heartbroken.
“No.” A smile broke the serious mask that had formed over Cassie’s features. “Our wolves aren’t punished for being curious or for helping someone, but I’ll need to talk with Tristan about the incident.”
“Why?”
Cassie tucked an errant curl behind her ear. “From your description, the wolf you described matches Tristan’s wolf.”
“So, Tristan was nearby?”
“Oh, yeah.” Cassie’s curls bounced with her little head nod.
“Why didn’t he answer when I called him? I could’ve been hurt and he didn’t come.”
“The wolf would’ve alerted him if you were in any danger. I can speak from a similar experience with my husband’s wolf.”
“I would’ve appreciated Tristan giving me a quick heads-up before sending his wolf to check on me. I nearly had a stroke before I realized the cutie wasn’t going to bite me.”
“Tristan probably had his hands full with Cybil.” Cassie brushed her hand across her lap, as if wiping away invisible crumbs. “I think he would’ve given you an explanation if that phone call had come two minutes later.”
“I wouldn’t mind meeting up with him again. I haven’t forgotten your warning, but he seems like a nice guy and someone fun to know. I could use some fun.”
“There’s always tomorrow night,” Cassie said cautiously.
“What’s happening tomorrow night?”
“Singles’ night at Taylor’s. It’s a family-friendly roadhouse on the outskirts of Maico. The steaks are fabulous.”
“Singles’ night.” Penelope’s voice unintentionally deadpanned.
“It’s not what you think.”
“I’m thinking everyone there will be looking for a hookup.”
“Some will, but it isn’t sleazy or creepy. And there’s no pressure to go home with anyone. It’s a great chance to meet some nice people and have a good time. There’s a band, a dance floor and excellent food. Come to think of it, that’s pretty much every night at Taylor’s.”
Penelope wasn’t a great fan of singles’ night at the bars in Atlanta, mostly because she was uncomfortable in crowds and didn’t appreciate drunken gropes from men who wouldn’t give her a second glance sober.
“Might be your only chance to meet up with Tristan. He’s always coming or going somewhere, but tomorrow night he’ll be at Taylor’s.”
“Thanks for the tip.” Penelope had always been too shy to attend singles’ events alone. But, if Tristan was there maybe she wouldn’t be alone for long.
Chapter 6
A full moon on singles’ night, it wouldn’t be hard to find a partner for the evening. Tristan, weary of the primitive drive for sex a full moon triggered, just wanted to get it over.
In his twenties, he’d been more appreciative of the biological urge. Now, in his midthirties, he’d become too tired or too bored to care.
Still, he had to be careful about coupling with the same female too often or risk inspiring false hope about future possibilities. Though he was always upfront about his commitment to singlehood, some women considered it their mission to convert him to the ranks of the happily mated. In his family, happy and mated were an incongruent pairing.
He lifted a frosted beer mug to his lips. Cold, dark ale slid down his throat and plunked into his empty stomach. The gnawing clench didn’t ease and likely wouldn’t until the full moon passed.
“Hey, Tristan.” One of the she-wolves had broken away from her friends to sidle up to his table. A dark-haired beauty, her slightly upturned nose and pretty eyes spaced close together made her look exotic and mysterious.
“Sonia, you look lovely tonight.” He focused on her face rather than ogling the swells of her breasts popping out of the low-cut neckline. At least twelve years his junior, she didn’t appeal to him on a sexual level and it bothered him that some of the older males nearby were practically panting for her.
“Are you waiting for someone?” She-wolves didn’t flush from embarrassment and they definitely weren’t shy. But, Tristan heard the hitch in her breath as she waited for his response.
“Sorry, doll, I am.” He lied, knowing he wouldn’t bed her tonight or any night.
He hated that the process of selecting a moon-fuck partner had become so tedious and torturous. Some unmated wolfans had regular partners for the full-moon nights. The pair usually did not maintain a social relationship. They merely rendezvoused in the woods and took care of business as wolves. Tristan had considered doing the same, but hadn’t had the time to discuss a possible partnership with the limited, unmated she-wolves his age.
“Aww.” Sonia’s voice turned soft and seductive. “Mind if I keep you company while you wait?”
“Not tonight.” Or any other night as far as he was concerned.
Her smile turned pouty. “I’ll be at the bar, if you change your mind.”
I won’t.
Tristan tipped his head, then picked up the beer mug and swallowed the ale without tasting it. Sonia sashayed toward her friends. She was the fourth she-wolf he’d turned down tonight. If he kept at it, he wouldn’t get laid.
For the past two months, he’d missed the full-moon fuck. The first time, Ruby had fallen ill and he’d taken her to the hospital. The second, he got called in to help a neighboring town’s law enforcement deal with a multicar collision that had resulted in a dozen casualties.
Tonight, Tristan had no choice. He had to have sex or run the risk of elevated wolfan hormones awakening his beast.
An unexpected electric charge pulsed along his nerves. His heartbeat kicked up two notches. Before the restaurant doors opened, he made a guess at who would enter. Even though he shouldn’t, he couldn’t wait to see her.
Penelope cautiously stepped into the restaurant. Tonight, her hair fell in soft waves around her shoulders. She wore white jeans and a billowy black blouse that hid her generous curves.
Curves his hands ached to feel again and that had tormented him in his dreams.
Intense desire spread through his body like a wildfire during a drought. The full-moon effects were starting early.
A tumble with her might be foremost on his mind, but was definitely not on his agenda. He’d pegged her as a forever kind of woman and he needed to stay far, far away from her.
Her confident stance was slightly marred by her uncertain gaze as she eyeballed her surroundings. Though she failed to notice him, Tristan couldn’t drag his attention from her.
The hostess greeted her and picked up one menu.
Here alone and not expecting anyone.
His evening just got better and more complicated. Not unlike felines, curiosity often got the best of wolfans. And he wanted to know why she’d specifically called out for him, Friday night.
Watching Penelope follow the hostess to a table, he scooted back from his own.
“Tristan!” A feminine squeal rang in his left ear. Slender arms lassoed his neck and a sloppy kiss dampened his cheek.
Damn!
He hated being blindsided. Keeping a tight cap on his irritation, Tristan focused on the woman making a concerted effort to squeeze onto his lap.
“Hello, doll.” Tristan didn’t budge an inch to allow her room.
He searched her vaguely familiar features but couldn’t recall her name. Heavy perfume and cigarette smoke clung to her skin, so her scent was no help in identifying her, either.
“Long time no see,” she said, all breathy and dramatically animated. “I hoped you would be here.”
“And so I am.” He consciously smiled, racking his brain for a name.
A name, a name, he’d give up his dinner to remember her name.
Well, maybe not. Wolfans loved to eat.
Shoving back the table, she managed to wedge herself onto his lap. Her arms draped his shoulders. Long, red nails raked his hair.
Huh!
Not one single spark. He felt absolutely nothing.
What the hell was wrong with him?
A full moon, a willing woman and not one flicker of interest. He might’ve suspected some type of dysfunction if not for his reaction to Penelope.
“What have you been up to since the last time I saw you?” Not that he cared, but her response might help him figure out her identity.
“Kenny and I divorced. The rat bastard skipped out on child support so the kids and I had to move back to Maico to live with my mom.” Tears glistened in her heavily painted eyes.
Somehow, Tristan got the feeling her sorrow stemmed more from living with her mother than the divorce. Or maybe it was his skewed perception of family.
He would cry, too, if he had to live with his parents again. Neither loving nor caring, his parents could hardly be in the same room without a fight breaking out.
If they were human, a divorce would’ve sent them happily on their separate ways. As wolfans, a mate-claim bound them for life. Even if it was accidental, as it was in their case, the claim was irrevocable.
“Here ya go, Slick.” Angeline slid him a glass of ice water he hadn’t ordered. One perfectly curved auburn brow arched and she looked pointedly at the womanly octopus tangling him with her tentacles.
“Thanks, Sassy.” He gave Angeline a bug-eyed stare. She had been his friend long enough to recognize the SOS.
Humor played on her lips and she actually looked ready to walk away without tossing him a lifeline. He squinted a dire warning.
Angeline’s teasing gaze locked on Tristan, then dropped to the woman in his lap. “Long time no see, Deidre.”
The name exploded in Tristan’s ears. In disbelief, he stared at the woman who had been his high-school sweetheart. Short platinum hair, steely gray eyes lined with thick black smudges, pouty lips painted dark red against a weathered canvas obscured the traces of the pretty girl he’d once dated. Tristan’s heart gave a tiny squeeze. When he’d ended the relationship with Deidre, he’d truly wanted her to find happiness. The haggard look behind the heavy makeup suggested she hadn’t.
“What do you think?” Deidre said to Angeline as the clamor in Tristan’s ears faded. “Do we still look the same as we did in high school?”
“Um...” Angeline’s head tilted as if picturing them then and now.
Clenching his jaw, Tristan felt his mouth pull tight and his brow wrinkle.
“Oh, yeah.” Angeline laughed. “Now you look exactly like I remember.”
“Thanks,” Tristan muttered. Back then, he was an infatuated fool and believed he could beat his family legacy of high drama.
It didn’t take long to learn that he couldn’t. When his and Deidre’s behavior began to mirror his parents’, Tristan ended the relationship before the unthinkable happened and he accidentally claimed her. Under no circumstances did he want to be in a relationship that he couldn’t escape.
“After all this time, we’ve found each other again.” Deidre beamed. “It’s kismet.”
“I don’t believe in that crap.” The humor faded from Angeline’s eyes.
“Deidre,” Tristan interrupted before Angeline launched a tirade about fate and fairy tales and not so happily-ever-afters. “My leg is falling asleep, doll. Would you mind moving?” To another table? Another restaurant? Another town?
“How about some company for supper?” Deidre stroked his jaw.
“He’s waiting for someone,” Angeline said.
Hoorah for the wing-girl. Tristan owed her big-time for this one.
“Oh.” Deidre’s mouth took on an exaggerated pout. “Rain check?”
Tristan offered a noncommittal nod.
Deidre pressed her lips against his. He kept his lips closed instead of encouraging her kiss. Had to be a first for him.
When she finally vacated his lap and sulked away, the tightness in Tristan’s body eased.
“Never expected that blast from the past, did you?” Angeline dipped a napkin in the glass of ice water on her tray and handed it to him.
“What’s this for?”
“Wipe your mouth and cheek, unless you want to walk around branded with big red lips all night. Might scare off the real woman you’ve been waiting for.”
“Thanks.” Tristan used the damp cloth to clean his face. “But I’m not waiting for anyone.”
“Sure you are.” Angeline looked over her shoulder. “She’s sitting alone near the restrooms.”
“Penelope’s just...” Exactly what was she to him? “A friend?” Possibly, if they ever got past the furtive glances across the resort lobby.
“You and I have been friends since we were twelve.” Angeline leaned close enough to whisper in his ear. “You’ve never lit up for me the way you did for her when she walked in that door. Go get her.”
“You know my situation.”
“It’s your parents’ situation. Doesn’t have to be yours.”
Unfortunately, Tristan knew differently.
“Don’t be a jerk and leave her sitting alone.” Angeline bumped his shoulder. “She’s got that vulnerable look and there are hungry wolves on the prowl tonight. One of them might get lucky enough to eat her up.”
The low, warning growl vibrating in his throat caught him off guard, but apparently not Angeline.
She laughed and laughed.
“Don’t you have work to do?” Tristan grumbled.
“Don’t you?”
Chapter 7
Penelope barely heard anything over the panicked drum of her heart. She was so out of her comfort zone. How had she allowed Cassie to talk her into this?
In the ten minutes since she’d arrived, Penelope had kept her head lowered and avoided eye contact. Some habits were hard to break.
She picked up the menu. Her gaze skipped over the fried foods and sandwiches, and landed on the salads, but what she really wanted was that platter of chicken wings the server carted past her.
Taking a deep breath, she glanced around the restaurant. For singles’ night, the crowd seemed relatively calm.
Oh, she could spot the hookups, all right, but the frenzied, frantic atmosphere of the few singles’ bars she’d gone to with a friend from work was thankfully absent.
Through the crowd, she noticed a tawny-haired man at the bar and her heart fluttered.
Lately, her sex life had stagnated. Not that it was anything spectacular before. She’d been in a few relationships, but none of the men had rocked her world in or out of the bedroom and she really wanted to be rocked. Hard.
Hard enough to leave her sweaty and breathless. Hard enough for the headboard to chip the paint off the walls.
She’d settle for one good orgasm.
Oh, she could give them to herself when she indulged in fantasy, but she’d never achieved the same result with any of her boyfriends. Tired of fantasies, Penelope slid out of her seat and made determined steps toward the bar.
Tristan, the subject of her latest fantasies, tossed back a shot of something. If she wasn’t such a lightweight drinker, she might do the same. “Courage,” she muttered to herself.
The closer she came to him, the more militant the butterflies in her stomach became. Maybe that was why the zip of excitement she usually felt when seeing Tristan didn’t manifest.
Penelope tapped him lightly on the shoulder. “Hi there.”
He turned slowly. His gaze landed on her chest and lingered before sliding down the length of her body and then all the way up to her face, leaving an icky feeling on her skin.
Not the reaction she hoped for.
“Do I know you?” His blue-gray eyes were cold and distant, and no smile touched his tight mouth.
“No.” Penelope forced a confident smile. “I thought you were someone else. Sorry to have bothered you.” She turned to scurry back to her table.
“Hold on.” Steely fingers cuffed her wrist and spun her around. “You are definitely not a bother, love.” The man pulled her close, way too close for her comfort. “Join me for a drink.”
“I have other plans.” She employed the stern tone she used when disciplining the schoolkids in her classroom.
“Plans change.” His grip remained firm but didn’t tighten. For a second, his gaze lost the hard edge and she glimpsed a shadow of loneliness.
She almost relented.
“Let her go.”
Now Penelope’s internal bells and whistles went off. Tristan stepped close enough that she went all gooey inside and had to concentrate on remaining cool and collected so she wouldn’t melt into a puddle at his feet.
“We were just about to get to know each other,” the other man said.
“Jaxen, this is Penelope. She’s my date for the evening. That’s all you need to know about her.” The growl in Tristan’s deep, sexy voice inspired all sorts of electric mayhem throughout her body. She shivered.
When his arm gently slipped around her waist, the ripple along her nerves twisted into a wild, interpretive dance.
“Let her go.” With his right hand, Tristan clasped Jaxen’s wrist until he released her, one finger at a time.
“No harm, no foul.” Jaxen rubbed the red streaks Tristan’s grasp had left on his arm. “Man, you need to lighten up.”
Penelope glanced at her wrist. Jaxen’s grip had not left a single mark.
“You need to mind your manners.”
“Noted.” The muscle in Jaxen’s jaw twitched. He gave Penelope a wistful look, then showed them his back and ordered another shot.
“Did he hurt you?” Tristan gently turned her away from the bar.
“No.” And she wasn’t so sure Jaxen would have.
Tristan laced his fingers through hers. Warm, comforting heat spread beneath his touch.
“Is Jaxen your brother?” Penelope fell into step slightly behind Tristan as he led the way through the swelling crowd. Mostly people moved out of his way and he made a direct path to a table near the dance floor.
“Cousin.”
“You favor each other.”
“Only in looks.” Tristan’s upper lip lifted in a silent snarl.
Apparently there was an unpleasant history between the two men.
“I hope you don’t mind joining me, sweet cheeks.” Tristan’s warm eyes encouraged her company.
“Just so you know—” Nel sat in the chair he pulled back for her “—I like Nel. But I don’t like doll, darlin’, love, sweetie, sweetie pie or sweet cheeks.”
He took the other seat. “Sweet cheeks is a compliment. When you smile, you look so damn sweet I want to eat you up.”
“Oh.” A light heat spread across her face, down the column of her throat and across her cleavage. “I changed my mind, you can call me sweet cheeks.”
He glanced around the room before settling his gaze back on her. “I was working resort security Friday night and heard you cry out in the woods. Did you get hurt?”
“No, but I was scared. There was a terrible noise, then a wolf came up to me and...I thought heard your voice.”
Surprise and disbelief blinked in Tristan’s eyes.
“I know it was my imagination kicking into overdrive because I was frightened.” Penelope fiddled with her fingers. “And I was really hoping to see you again.”
“Yeah?”
She needed sunglasses to protect herself from Tristan’s smile. She also needed to divert away from flirting with him because, well, she rather sucked at it.
“I was scared, Tristan. To know you were nearby and didn’t help—” Her voiced cracked.
“Nel, when I heard you call out, it was impossible for me to get to you. My wolf accompanies me on patrol, so I sent him instead. I trust him with my life. I knew I could trust him with yours.” Tristan’s hand covered hers and the angst tying her stomach in knots dissolved into a calm, soothing assurance. “My wolf will never hurt you. I’ll stake my life on that.”
“What’s his name?”
“Tristan.” His brow creased. “With the population we have, it would become confusing to give separate names to the wolves.”
“Everyone should have a name of their own.”
“Trust me, he doesn’t mind being called Tristan.”
“He told you that, did he?”
“As a matter of fact, he did.”
Penelope nearly giggled because of the teasing tent in Tristan’s eyebrow and the broadening, impish smile he flashed at her.
“Am I forgiven?”
Nel studied his face. He had a strong brow that dipped over warm, deliciously decadent eyes, a straight nose of just the right proportion, high cheeks, a masculine mouth tempered by a delicate cupid’s bow and soft-looking lips, and a powerful jaw shadowed by dark gold stubble.
How could she stay mad at someone with a face of exquisite perfection?
“Forgiven.”
“Here ya go.” The server placed a glass of white wine in front of Penelope. “Figured you’d rather have this here than at the table where you were.”
“Yes, thank you.”
“Ready to order?”
“A Caesar salad will be fine.”
“That’s an appetizer, right?” Tristan’s gaze slid past Penelope and to the left.