SevenMarkPackAttackMobi (7 page)

Frank muttered, “Oh, fuck. Would you two just stop it?” He stepped in front of me and asked, “Where the hell is Hood?”

He didn’t wait for her answer, though, he moved past her. He didn’t look back. I knew he’d sniff out the master and come back. He wasn’t above asking for directions. If she wasn’t giving them, he’d find someone who would.

I, on the other hand, was fucked if I was asking for anything from anyone.

So there we stood. She blocked my path. I wasn’t squeezing past her, and I wasn’t asking her to move. And she, apparently, wasn’t going anywhere.

“Don’t you have something to do?” I resisted adding
bitch
on the end of that. I leaned up against the wall, letting my shoulder prop me up.

Amber thought about it a minute, then wrinkled her nose. “Not really.”

She had me cornered, and she liked it. I could see it in her eyes.

I glanced down the hall. Nothing. No one. Frank had disappeared.

“You don’t take orders, huh?” I figured, what the hell? I had nothing better to do than chat with her. I could bring her around. Generally, I’m pretty popular with the ladies. Garou tend to be wiry. Lumber wolves are so blocky that it’s a turn on for most bitches. And she wasn’t a scrawny ass anorexic, so I know she wasn’t used to men that were that much bigger than her.

She sniffed. I was sweating pheromones. She admitted, “Not very often.”

I showed her a wolfy grin, inhaling through my teeth, licking an eyetooth. “But you do sometimes.”

She laughed at me, then--threw her head back and let an out-and-out belly laugh loose. “You are a fucking dog. Where’d you fly in from?”

Playing with me.

I said, “You know where I’m from. And you know who I am.”

Glancing down at herself, she fingered the top button of her lab coat. Low cut--I couldn’t help but notice her cleavage. She was toying with me.

A growl escaped my throat, low and barely audible. I thought about a rabbit fuck. You know, something fast.

She said, “Beg me.”

I blinked. I didn’t believe she’d said it.

Worse, I realized that she’d been listening to my thoughts.

“I don’t beg.”

“You’re a dog.”

“Wolf. Big difference.”

She undid the top button, and then another. Again, she said, “Beg.”

To my surprise, I wasn’t seeing any fabric beneath that coat as it parted. My internal panter was going. Saliva filled my mouth, and it was all I could do not to let my tongue out.

Another button. Her fingernails were painted red, too. I glanced from her hand to her toes, just to double check. Yep. Same color.

Another button. At her waist, I saw ribbons and silk. A garter belt? Red against the bronze of her natural skin tone.

My fingers itched to slide that coat aside and take a look. I itched to nuzzle up to her and rub my body against hers. Swallowing became an effort.

Her hand stopped moving. It took me a minute to realize it.

My gaze climbed up the opening to her face. When she was sure I was looking her in the eye, she said, “Just beg.”

I let my gaze dip again. You know, weighing the worth. Seriously thinking about it. What’s a few words to get what you want?

Pushing off the wall, I moved toward her. I didn’t beg, though. I just moved in and kissed her. I figured, what the hell?

Chapter Three

Amber didn’t just let me kiss her. The minute I moved in and dropped my lips to hers and my hands to her hips, she met me. Within a second, her lips parted and she slid her tongue into my mouth.

I enjoyed tongue play, so I was cool with that. I crowded her, and pushed her against the wall, pressing my body to hers. I thought she was totally going for it.

My hands squeezed. Ah, I love the feel of a real woman in my hands, something to get a hold of.

The minute I squeezed, though, I got tossed.

Out of nowhere...her hands must’ve been trapped between us, against my chest. When she shoved, I hit the other wall with a loud thump and a big shock.

“What the hell?” I never knew what hit me.

“Yeah,” she said, pissy. “Stupid son of a bitch.”

She walked away, leaving me rubbing the back of my head, wondering what was up, while I watched her button her coat on exit. Frank passed her at the corner as he came back. She muttered, “Your dog needs a leash,” before she disappeared.

Frank looked from her retreating back to me, with reproach. “What the fuck did you do?”

I put the back of my hand to my lips, guessing I had lipstick all over me. Sure enough, red marred my skin. I wiped again, that time with my thumb. “Nothing...much.”

He said, “We don’t need any more enemies, Mark.”

“What did you find out?” It annoyed me that he felt like he could chastise me--I’m a wolf, for Gaia’s sake. Chasing pussy is what I do.

“Hood’s in a meeting. Someone was supposed to meet us. They said she’d be right up, just to stay put.”

I wiped the lipstick off my hand with my fingers, smearing it until it disappeared.

Frank said, “You should carry a handkerchief.”

That received a snort from me. I told him, “Only pussies carry hankies.”

He pushed his lips together, but held back his retort. Maybe I hurt his feelings.

That hallway felt like a cage. I paced. “What’s around the corner?”

“A reception area, some chairs. You wanna go sit down?”

“No,” I snapped, putting a fist to the wall, leaning my head to the surface. It was kind of funny. I said, “You know what, Frank?”

“What?”

“She smelled great.”

He laughed, and put a hand on my back. Like a dog, he husked, “Don’t you know it.”

We snarfed a little. You know, that husky dog laugh.

I tried to clear my head, but her scent was in there, permanently, I told him, “You know what else?”

“No. What?”

“She fuckin’ kisses like a whore.”

That must’ve pulled him up. He backed away from me and asked, “You got that far in two minutes?”

“Yeah.” I wasn’t bragging. Not really. I was fucked up from her. I know that sounds nuts, but in two minutes, she had me hooked. And knocking me into the wall? Shit. I wanted to see what else she had.

“Gaia.” He mopped his head again. I could hear him pull the handkerchief out of his pocket. “I could learn some things from you.”

“How to get knocked into a wall?” I rolled my body, and put my back to it, admitting, “She fucking threw me into the wall.”

That had him mopping faster, grinning. “Think she likes you?”

I glanced toward the exit door, “Who knows? I probably won’t see her again.” Except in my dreams.

“You want me to go find out what her name is?”

“Nah.” That would haunt me.

He put his cloth away and said, “Kisses like a whore, huh?”

Again, I moved away from the wall, pacing. “Yeah. Who’s supposed to meet us?”

“Oh. Somebody you know, I guess.”

That had my interest. “Who?”

“Giselle Racini.”

Bark’s ex-girlfriend. At Lobos? A quick vision of the jacket she’d given him...on that murder scene/news report came to my mind.

I didn’t have time to think about it; we heard the click of her heels a second later. She came around the corner, talking to none other than...Amber. Giselle asked her, “Why didn’t you bring them in?”

Into the waiting area?

Amber didn’t seem repentant, she said, “I welcomed them well enough. That’s not my job, you know.” Her gaze went straight to mine--smoldering desire zipped through the air between us.

Frank sucked in air at the sight of Giselle.

A gorgeous femme fatale, Italy style, a totally stacked bombshell, super model hooker in a compact package. Giselle wasn’t wearing anything remotely doctorly--but then, she wasn’t a doctor. From what Bark had said, she was nothing but the best prostitute on the planet. Knowing that made you think about fucking her, period. You know, curiosity to see what tricks she knew. Bark had told some wild tales. I knew Frank had heard them, too.

She had on a short, tight skirt, a low cut, half unbuttoned silk blouse, and stilettos. Nothing else, apparently, because I could see her breasts through the thin fabric of the shirt. But Giselle’s face is really what had arrested Frank’s attention, I think. Shrouded in long layers of satiny brown hair, her features just captivate. It’s probably her lips--and what we’d heard she could do with them. I dunno.

All I know is...Lobos must’ve had a sale on red lipstick. She was wearing the same shade that Amber was. Only on Giselle, it accentuated the fairness of her skin. On Amber, it looked like warm, slick, ruby paint. She must’ve touched it up again already, because it didn’t look at all smudged.

I said, “Giselle.” I’d seen her before. It had just been a while. I was surprised to see that she hadn’t changed much.

Warmly, she reached out a hand, taking mine before I realized it was out. She didn’t stop there, though, she embraced me with her other arm, scooting right up against me, whispering, “Good to see you.”

She sniffed my neck. It’s a wolfy thing we do.

Chuckling--she said, “I guess Amber did give you a nice welcome.”

Over her shoulder, my eyes were on Amber. So that was her name. I shrugged, “She did all right. I wouldn’t go and fire her just yet, anyway.”

Giselle withdrew from the circle of my arms as I added, “I think she could work out, given a little coaching.”

Amber, of course, ignored me from that point on.

They led us around the corner to the seating area, offered us drinks, and made us comfortable with small talk. There was a jungle feel to the room. Lots of real plants, nature sounds piped in. The furniture was green velvet and brown leather, very overstuffed and comfortable, expensive. The lighting was subdued, diverted to paintings by Bev Doolittle. Hidden creatures in wooded scenes.

I stared at them, but mostly, I spent a lot of the time retracing my words. The squeeze. The work out. It didn’t take me long to figure out--she didn’t like any suggestion that I might think she should lose weight or get in better shape. And really, she’s right on that. Who am I to say what she should do? Not that I was intimating that, but big, beautiful women get it from all sides, all the time. They can’t help it if they’re a little touchy on the subject.

When I should have been more attentive to the politics going on between Frank and Giselle, from arm’s length, all I could do was think about getting
my point
across to Amber. I liked her the way she was. In fact, she had me tight, straight up.

A little uncomfortable, apparently, Amber tried to excuse herself.

Giselle’s astute, though. She did not let her get away from us, and Frank, surely, latched onto Amber’s attention--with his beady little gaze all over Giselle half the time. I’m sure I came across introspective, wrapped up in the business that brought me to Lobos in the first place.

What I’m saying is...I guarded the hell out of my thoughts. I didn’t want anyone to know that I was one-tracked to what was under that stupid lab coat. I wondered, though, what kind of establishment Lobos really was--with Giselle as the main greeter, and the doctors wearing fishnets.

Giselle introduced us properly, “Amber is one of L.I.’s A team.”

L.I. Lobos International.

A team. That explains her wandering freely in the upper levels. Just what did an A team doctor for L.I. do?

Frank asked aloud.

In my head, I muttered,
Stay out of my head, all of you.

The women smiled patronizingly. Giselle answered. “You could say that Amber creates our little miracles.”

Amber blahed, “I’m a pharmaceutical scientist. Nothing glamorous.”

Giselle said meaningfully, “She works with Hood.”

In my head, I let slip,
Ah, that explains the fishnets.

To my surprise, Giselle flinched, her smile faltered.

Amber tensed, too, and asked, “Mind if I speak to...Mr. Wolf in private?”

“Call me Mark.” I got up, ready to follow her anywhere.

Amber didn’t wait for anyone to give her leave. She led me to the closest door. The minute we were inside, alone together, she turned on me and said venomously, “I think I’ll call you asshole.”