“Maybe he won’t after I have a chance to explain.”
“You will not pursue him.”
The command hit my wolf and made her want to roll over. My vision narrowed and turned red. My hands flew to my hips. “You do not have the right to dictate who I do or do not like or choose to pursue.”
Wick stepped in. I refused to give ground to him, so we stood an inch apart. Wick’s espresso eyes sparkled as yellow specks appeared. They turned golden. I watched in fascination as his wolf rose close to the surface. I should play submissive and not antagonize the big alpha wolf.
“You are mistaken. I have every right.”
“And why is that?”
He grabbed my wrists and pulled me closer. His body ground against mine. The growling vibrated through his chest and shook my body.
“You are my mate,” he rumbled.
A shiver tore through my body. My wolf howled and acknowledged the truth in his words. She’d known all along. Heat spread through my body and pooled between my legs. The scent of my desire mingled with Wick’s. My shocked gaze flashed to his. The yellow in my irises reflected back to me. My wolf surged forward, demanding control. I couldn’t hold her back. Ah fuck.
His mouth crushed mine.
Hunger spiralled up and my mouth melted into his lips. The smoldering warmth inside built to a boil, threatening to explode.
“Mine,” Wick growled against my mouth.
Dylan’s powerful frame built for intimidation smothered me. He savored the air, my scent laced with trepidation and terror, his aphrodisiac. “Andrea McNeilly, you are mine.”
A cold shiver sliced through me more sharply than the memory. I pushed against Wick’s solid chest and broke contact.
“No,” I breathed, stemming the panic attack.
“No?” Wick released me in surprise.
“No,” I said more firmly, shaking my head.
His nose flared. “You have nothing to fear.” He gripped my arms as if he wanted to shake some sense into me, but I couldn’t look at his face.
My wolf leapt up again, seeking control. I squashed her down and shook my head again. “I’ll not be controlled again,” I said. My cat’s awareness answered my call. Her dominance smashed my wolf away and broke the connection with Wick’s wolf. He shuddered.
His hands dropped to his side, limp. After a moment, he seemed to regain his composure. “What do you mean again?”
I shook my head. Dylan’s words raced around, bouncing off the inside of my skull. You are mine.
Wick pursed his lips. For the first time since I met him, uncertainty blanketed his face. He opened his mouth to say something else, so I jumped in to change the topic and the mood.
“Lead on, Captor.” Keeping all emotion from my voice, the familiar stony expression slid over my face. I nodded toward the house, knowing full well my behaviour was mean and unfair.
A bead of sweat pebbled on my nose as I fought to remain still and not squirm under Wick’s hard gaze. It threatened to crack my cold resolve, break the barriers I erected between anyone and myself. My walls did the job for years. But one penetrating look from Wick and they weakened under the force.
No! I crossed my arms and stared back.
“As you wish.” His voice steel. Wick pulled me forward and we walked to the house in silence.
Chapter Twelve
Apprehension shimmied down my spine as my four car entourage pulled up the long manicured driveway to a huge mansion. Lucien lived on South Marine drive. What did I expect? The house looked like one off a Hollywood reality show, with multiple levels, palm trees, a pool and some serious landscaping. Palm trees? In Vancouver?
Normally I would have felt like a princess…or the president, but the bound hands, cold stares and silent treatment ruined the fantasy. They didn’t gag me or put a bag over my head. That surprised me. Then again, everyone knew where Lucien’s lair was and nothing I said or did would prevent this meeting.
Since the situation with Wick in the driveway, I’d kept my cat close and my panting, hormonal wolf deeply suppressed. Wick wasn’t pleased. He spoke to me if required—“Change the channel. I will not watch that.” Frustration and anger embedded in every word.
The rest of the pack, sensing his mood, behaved as if on edge. Without having to say anything, I knew they blamed me. Plenty of death stares and cold shoulders were sent in my direction.
Wick didn’t bat an eyelash when I asked for a separate room. I guess we silently agreed we needed space and detachment. He had a sick sense of humour. Ryan was my personal guard. Awkward didn’t cover it. Learning from his mistake, he treated me as a true prisoner. The perfect professional.
The solitude gave me too much time to reflect on my life. Since I started working for the SRD, I merely existed. Working on finding my humanity after thirty years of living like an animal. No goals for my life except to survive and get from point A to point B, like my car, moving from one hit to the next. Sure, I enjoyed the simple things in life, like chocolate and sleeping in on rainy days, but that wasn’t enough. Not anymore.