He huffed a wolf laugh as the human side tried to Change back. It was a wave of nausea and then nothing. Logic thought he was in control, but he wasn't. Wolf only let him think that so he could function normally around the humans and blend in. Dumb fuck thought he was going to put Blaire in the friend-zone tomorrow. Hell no.
Wolf was going to hunt her down a present, and tomorrow he would fuck her proper. Get her attached to him. Make her crave him. Get her to love him and stick around. He'd wanted a mate for two years, and Logic had denied him. Logic had run from every woman, thinking they would settle him. He'd run from everyone and everything he'd ever known. He'd made them be rogues, but maybe Wolf didn't want to be a rogue anymore. Maybe he didn't want to be on the outside. Maybe he wanted everything. War, blood, pack, Blaire, pups from Blaire.
She won't make you pups, Wolf. She can't.
Wolf yipped to drown out the voice of his human side.
Wolf wouldn't let Logic run from Blaire. Perhaps he would hunt her ex and bleed him slowly so she wouldn't look sad anymore when she talked about him. She wasn't invisible. She was vibrant and beautiful and funny and everything good that Wolf wasn't. She would wash his soul clean. She would make him forget all the wolves he killed, all the bad things he'd done.
She would make him forget how much his heart hurt when he thought about Dad, Roman, and Asher.
Wolf was dark inside, always had been, but Blaire was bright and chased away the shadows. She made him want to breed and settle. She made him want to defend her and protect her and make her happy. She made him want to take care of someone other than himself, fight more efficiently, and claim territory.
Blaire Hayward-fragile human beauty-made him want to be a better werewolf.
Chapter Six
Blaire held the comforter clutched to her chest as she listened to another long wolf howl rising. Rising like the sun on the eastern horizon, rising like the fine hairs all over her body.
She'd had no idea wolves lived in this area, but the terrifying predator had lifted his voice for the first time five minutes ago, and Blaire was still frozen in fear, even safe and warm inside the cabin.
It sounded so close.
It was probably just the mountains making the voice carry and sound much closer than it was. And see? There, it stopped now. The monster was probably on its way back to its den miles and miles and miles away to sleep for the day. She hoped. Blaire knew embarrassingly little about wolves.
As the minutes dragged on and the animal didn't sing again, a wave of potent relief washed through her. Sure, the sound had been beautiful, and a part of her felt lucky. How many people could say they'd heard a wild wolf howl? But animals with sharp teeth and hunting instincts scared her.
Blowing out a sigh to expel the rest of her tension, Blaire rolled out of bed and padded to the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee. But when she reached the main living area, a horrifying scratching sound shook the front door.
Blaire yelped and bolted the rest of the way to the kitchen, grabbed the biggest knife out of the block, and held it toward the door with shaking hands as another scratch rattled the door. It sounded like a dog clawing to get in, but in her heart, she just knew it was the wolf that had been making all that noise.
She was being hunted.
Her cell phone was in the bedroom on the charger. Maybe she should call the police, or animal control. Gentry would've been her first choice, but she didn't have his number, and she sure as heck wasn't opening a window to yell at his cabin. She didn't want to get her face eaten off by a freaking wolf!
She stood there petrified except for her shaking hands clutching the butcher knife. Her legs wouldn't move because in her illogical fear-filled mind, if she moved, the wolf would sense her in here like some heat-seeking dinosaur, break through the front window, and devour her.
Move, she mouthed to herself. As quietly as she could, she padded to the front window and pushed the curtain aside slowly with her fingertips.
There was something on the porch, but it wasn't the wolf she'd imagined.
It looked like a … Blaire narrowed her eyes. Was that a limp turkey?
Movement caught her eye, and she nearly swallowed her tongue when she saw Gentry headed this way over the snow-covered parking lot. He wore jeans low on his hips and was pulling a white sweater over his head. Abs and perfect chest and that sexy V of muscle and, holy moly, she'd forgotten for a moment how drop-dead gorgeous he was. But when his face showed through the neck hole, she grimaced and hunched her shoulders. He looked utterly pissed off. What had she done now?
He marched up the porch with a deep frown on his face, picked up the-yep, it was definitely a dead turkey-by the feet and stomped off the porch and back toward his cabin.
Blaire sprinted for the door, threw it open, and yelled out before he got too far away. "What just happened?"
"Nothing important," he called in a voice that was hoarse like he'd been yelling all night. "Breakfast is canceled. Rough night. I'll see you later." He didn't even turn around once before he made his way back into his cabin with the limp poultry and slammed the door behind him.
The wind was arctic against her cheeks, but the sting of the frigid temperature was nothing compared to the slap she felt on her heart. Last night she hadn't been able to sleep because she was so excited about breakfast. She was looking forward to seeing Gentry again and getting to know him better. A man who made her body feel like it did last night had to be worth getting to know, right? He hadn't just screwed her and fulfilled his own desires. He'd taken care of her, put her needs before his, made her come twice to his once, and didn't push them too far.
Too far …
Some dim memory ate at the very corner of her mind. I'm not even supposed to kiss you.
He'd said that last night, but distracted her away from the admission immediately. What did that mean?
Realization slammed into her like a sack of bricks. He wasn't supposed to kiss her because he was with someone. He didn't wear a wedding band. She'd checked. But that didn't mean he was single. Now it made sense. He was off the table, and look what they'd done.
Blaire felt sick to her stomach.
She didn't know who his girlfriend was, but Blaire's guilt was bottomless. And if she was honest, she was instantly mad at him for not telling her and not stopping them last night.
He was only the second man she'd experienced intimacy with, and now she'd probably ruined some poor girl's life who probably loved him, because why wouldn't she? Gentry was confident, mysterious, strong, and sensual, and now he was chopping dang logs in that sexy tight sweater and jeans like he was some sexier version of the abominable snowman. If she had a rock disguised as a snowball right now, she would chuck it at his dick. The dick he was supposed to be using on his girlfriend. Or crap, she could even be his fiancé, Blaire didn't know.
She slammed the door hard, but it banked back and hit her. With a screech, she slammed it again, followed it with her fists, and punched it closed the rest of the way.
"Ouch," she yelped, rubbing her knuckles. Her fury was still infinite, bubbling up inside of her until she couldn't see straight, so she stuck out her middle finger at the door. Felt good, so she did it with the other hand, too. And then she alternated her middle-fingers, jamming them toward where stupid, sexy Gentry was chopping wood like a dang hot lumberjack, probably to tempt her into being the other woman again. She made machine gun sounds as she punched her birds at the door. Still enraged, she karate kicked at the air, and then stomped into the bedroom.
She felt dirty. So dirty! This was all his fault. She might puke. Don't look at the toilet.
Blaire's eyes burned with tears that she refused to let spill, so she blinked over and over. She readied for the day in a haze, her mind spinning around and around her disappointment, not only in herself for not getting to know him better before fooling around with him, but for him being an unfaithful B-hole. And to be honest, her heart hurt way more than it should've. This was what men did, right? Of course, it was. Gentry was seven levels out of her league, younger than her by years, and the owner of this giant, beautiful inn. He could have whoever he wanted. And he did! And last night it just so happened to be her. Tonight it would be whoever he was dating.
She would not cry over this, not one single tear. This was part of getting back out there and dating. Ashlyn had warned her about this. She'd told her exactly how the dating world was, and Gentry had lived up to Ashlyn's warnings one hundred percent.