Shift Happens (A Carus Novel Book 1) (6 page)

“Do not make the mistake of underestimating her.”

Ryan frowned.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I piped in.

Wick transferred the full force of his hostile gaze to me. The alpha power emanating from his body so intense, I locked my knees and fought the urge to roll over and whine. Fucking alphas.

“My apologies, Alpha,” Ryan interceded.

“You are not to have any further physical contact with Andy unless it is to prevent her escape or protect a pack member,” Wick stated with calm, crisp words. His irises flashed bright yellow.

Ryan’s head snapped up as the order rolled over him. For an instant, rage shone in his expression but he recovered quickly and slid a mask of indifference over his face. No Were could refuse or ignore their alpha’s command without challenging his place in the pack.

“It won’t happen again.” Ryan flicked his gaze in my direction before walking away. It looked like he tried to convey something to me—regret, maybe? Gone before I could figure it out, I stared at his back. Despite enjoying our time sparring, his departure didn’t stir any internal response. Well, maybe something. But I wanted to ignore the tingling sensation dancing along my skin, the anticipation of being left alone with Wick.

With a lightness in my chest, I turned to Wick to find him watching me. The tingling grew stronger, but I shrugged with my palms out as if to say ‘What do you want from me?’

The yellow in Wick’s irises receded to his usual espresso. “So you like to fight?” he asked softly.

“I like to hone my craft,” I agreed, brushing off my shoulder as if it was dirty. I saw the action on a rap video a couple weeks ago. It seemed like the right thing to do. Show some attitude.

“Then you should practice against a more versed opponent.” He stepped forward in open challenge.

Well, now I had to amp up my game. I’d accept his challenge because I needed to know how he fought. To assess his power. Stronger than Ryan, I knew I couldn’t take him in a human fight, but I had to know how much stronger he was, how much faster. I forced my muscles to relax and quirked my mouth. “I thought you said no sparring?”

Wick nodded. “With Ryan.” His tone sounded suspiciously close to jealousy. Let him think I liked Ryan that way. I didn’t do anything wrong and it wouldn’t hurt to put Wick on edge. Make things even.

“Besides.” Wick interrupted my thoughts, “this will not be sparring.”

“Oh?” My breath bottled up in my chest.

Wick shook his head and attacked.

****

It took all my skills to deflect the blows. He moved half pace and pulled his shots as Ryan had, but he was good. Very good. He hadn’t been lying when he said he had more experience.

“This will be play,” he said. He might as well have said foreplay with the way his gaze raked my body. My heart thudded in my ears and my fingers ached to reach out and stroke him instead of strike. I swallowed and willed my body to behave, to focus. But it did no good.

A matter of minutes left me hot, sweaty and pinned against the wall—the cold cement refreshing despite the circumstances. It took every ounce of self-control not to rub my chest along the slab of muscle in front of me. Why’d he have to be so good looking? I needed to escape, not find a bed buddy. I meant to assess his fighting skills, not wonder how skilled he’d be in the bedroom. Focus!

Wick pressed his body to mine and leaned in. “Krav Maga and some sort of karate?” he asked.

“What?” I managed, still reeling from the reaction of my traitorous body.

“Your martial arts training is Krav Maga and…Shotokan?”

My shoulders sagged. Everyone thought that. Just because a style was more popular, didn’t mean it was better. “Goju Ryu.”

“Close enough.”

What was with Werewolves? Were they all martial art connoisseurs?

Good mate
, my wolf panted.

Maybe, maybe not. I didn’t trust my wolf. She’d been wrong before.

“I have you beat.” Wick pressed his knee between my legs and nudged them apart. The move sent a shiver through my body. Yowza! This man sure knew how to press my buttons. Heat rose from between my legs and my nose flared. Crap! If I could smell my desire, he could, too.

John had mentioned a woman named Christine, but Wick didn’t act like a man with a girlfriend.

“What would Christine say?” I blurted out.

Wick’s lips spread out to reveal his even white teeth and kissable dimples. “Christine? She can say whatever she wants. I’m not in a relationship with her.”

My tense muscles relaxed a little. “Then why did John say—”

“Shhh.” Wick pulled my arms above my head.

“Is this where you ask me to surrender?” I asked.

The pressure on my arms intensified, but not from Wick. From invisible hands. I stood paralyzed against the wall, unable to breathe or move, as memories from the past surged forth.

Dylan’s hot breath seared my neck as he pinned my arms over my head and forced my bruised thighs apart with his knee. “Andrea McNeilly, you are mine.”

My body tensed at the unexpected memory and my vision stained red. I hated Dylan flashbacks. They reminded me of weakness and humiliation. I promised myself long ago I would never put myself in a situation like that again, where I became less.

Wick frowned and loosened his grip on my wrists. “Where would the fun be in that?” His easy going words didn’t match his hard tone, but he stepped back and beckoned me to join him in the middle of the room.

Thankful for the reprieve, I shook out the tightness of my limbs as my reeling mind recovered. Must not show any weakness. People could use it against me. “How about we even the odds?” I asked.

Wick’s white teeth flashed. “How do you propose we do that?”

I slowly moved my hand to the bottom of my shirt, a motion raptly watched by Wick. I pulled the cotton tee over my head and plastered on what I hoped would come across as mischievous smile. Inside, I felt twisted. I wanted to go back to the fun sparring, not release the painful memories I worked hard to suppress.

“I thought the purpose was to make this even.”

“It is.” I let the shirt fall to the floor.

Wick’s irises lightened to wolf-gold. He stepped forward and then, looking unsure of my intent, stopped. “You will have the advantage if you fight naked.” He eyed my bra as if he wanted to rip it off with his teeth. Part of me wished he would. His mouth flattened into a firm line and his body tensed as if he prepared to pounce.

“I don’t plan to fight you naked.” I dropped the sweatpants.

Wick’s expression gleamed with understanding. He rose to the challenge. He removed his clothes without seduction, ripping them off. His outfit had given me a fair impression of what lay beneath, so seeing his naked body shouldn’t have come as a surprise. But it still managed to shock me. His broad shoulders led to large, but not too large, pecs. And his chiseled abs tapered down into a narrow waist and a well-defined V. And following that farther down…Oh my!

My gaze shot back up to Wick’s face. He smirked, unashamed of his arousal. His expression challenged me to react.

I reacted, all right. On the inside. My core revved like an engine, ready to go, and I tried to shove it back to idle with no success. Gritting my teeth, I forced my face to remain blank, despite the burning inferno in my body, racing heartbeat and the very tangible need to throw myself at him. His erection would go away when he shifted, but the image of his perfect, muscle-toned body wanting me would be imprinted in my memory for life. Not fair.

Shucking off my underwear and bra as fast as possible, I gave him little chance to admire my body. I shifted right away. Mountain lion fur rippled out as human skin folded in. I’d fully changed before Wick had started. From the looks of it, the process for a Were involved a lot more pain…and mess. Clear liquid oozed from Wick’s altering form as bones cracked audibly.

Slinking low to the ground, I waited for him to finish before I pounced. Wick’s wolf shook off the fluids from shifting. I changed direction mid-flight to avoid the spray. It hit the side of my body.
Gross.
I turned and snarled at him. His yellow gaze locked on me and he wagged his tail. I flicked mine in response and lunged again.

We played. No better word for it. We fought as if we were kits or pups in a litter, swatting at each other without extended claws, nipping without drawing blood, tackling without breaking bones.

When the day’s activities wore on me, I collapsed on the mats, panting from exhaustion. Wick joined me. Lying down on his side, his tongue rolled onto the mat as if he lacked the energy to correct it. I hacked in amusement and made the mistake of making eye contact.

He leaned over and licked my face. I swatted his head.

The wolf’s grin mirrored Wick’s human one to perfection. He shifted back and lay face down on the mats, drawing his breath in deep and slow, the faint gleam of sweat covered his body.

Wick turned toward me. “Shift back. You must be exhausted.”

He was right, of course. The shift for me involved a lot more pain than it should have. It always did when I had less energy. When it finished, I lay naked and shaking.

Wick ran a jerky hand through his short hair, rubbing it back and forth. He watched me, muscles tense, without saying anything. I kept my attention trained on him, unsure of what to expect, and allowed my body to lay limp against the floor. The shaking stopped and I released a long breath.

“Hungry?” Wick asked, his earlier tension gone. His lazy expression caused me to hesitate. “For food,” he clarified. Then he winked at me and shot to his feet in one smooth move.

“Starving,” I managed to say without looking at his dick.

I stood up. It must’ve been a little too fast for my brain to follow because the room tilted. I staggered and started to topple over. A firm hand gripped my upper arm and stabilized me, kyboshing my feeble attempt at a falling tree impersonation.

“Maybe we shouldn’t have been so vigorous.” Wick grimaced. He eyed me critically, momentarily pausing on my breasts, before wandering back to my face. “This has probably set your healing back a few days. Your right shin’s got a killer goose egg. I could play golf with it.”

“Yeah. Sparring was a good idea.”

“How do you figure?”

“It will postpone my little date with Lucien.” And it told me three things about Wick. One, he’d kick my ass in a real fight; two, he had the body of a god and I wanted to lick it all over; and three, the potent attraction between us went both ways and I could potentially use it to escape.

All playfulness seeped out of Wick’s face at my answer. His hand dropped to his side. “It delays the inevitable.”

I shook my head. “A lot can happen in a few days.”

Wick gave me a pained expression. “Please tell me you’re not going to do something foolish like attempt to escape.”

“If I told you, would you drop the guards?”

Wick shook his head. “I am forced to follow Lucien’s orders.”

“But I’m not.”

“Not yet.”

I ran. The sound of wolves howling filtered through the trees. The white light of the full moon illuminated the path. Leaves scattered in the wind as my paws sank into the soft soil, propelling me forward through a night smelling of lilacs and sweet jasmine.

Ears back, I ran faster.

The yips and growls grew closer, their hot breath on my feet and their sharp teeth chomping at my legs.

My foot snagged on a fallen log when I attempted to leap over it. Sprawled in the leaves, I twisted around.

A wolf stood over my quivering body. His icy yellow eyes bore holes into mine. Dylan.

“Easy,” a deep voice resonated in my head.

My eyes snapped open. Dark room. Stale air.

“You’re safe.”

Yellow eyes met mine. I flinched, and then attempted to bolt. Sheets weighed me down. I paused and assessed the situation. Wick, not Dylan. Bedroom, not forest. I released a long stuttered breath.

“You were having a nightmare,” Wick explained.

No shit.
The sheen of sweat clung to my skin, illuminating my arms in the dark. I turned under the sheets, sticking to them a bit, and looked Wick square in the face.

He lay on his side, on the sheets, not under, wearing an old t-shirt and gray sweatpants—a Were paperweight, keeping me prisoner under the bedding. I would have to roll off the side of the bed if I wanted to escape.

His hand rested on my hip. Heavy and large, it made me aware of the heat emanating from his body through the sheets.

He’d shaken me awake.

I eyed him suspiciously. What was he doing in my bed?

“Why Grandma, what big hands you have.” When fear clung to me, like it did now, I found it best to bluff nonchalance.
Fake it till you make it
. I’d heard the slogan once on a TV show involving models.

“Better to hold you with, my dear,” he said, surprising me. I didn’t think he would get the reference. Then again, the wolf story was based on a true Werewolf. He should know it.

The nightmare still clung to me like a silk bath robe after a shower. Those eyes haunted my sleep. If I closed my eyes again, I’d see them, crystal clear, as if they were real. Transported back to the hell I tried to forget, I looked into Wick’s deep brown safe eyes, dark portals in the dim light, and relaxed. Tension flowed from my body. Wick’s white teeth flashed in the dark in response.

“What big teeth you have.” I chuckled.

Wick’s grin grew. “I’m not sure you’re ready for me to reply to that.”

Hot damn! I didn’t think I was ready, either. I needed to get this conversation on a different path before it rolled completely in the gutter. “Taking your guard duty a little far, don’t you think?” I waved a finger at his body next to mine.

“I don’t trust you alone in the room.”

Truth, but it seemed like a pretty lame reason to me. “The windows are locked,” I pointed out. “And Were-proof.”

“Ah, but you’re not a Were. And locks can be broken or picked.”

“That hadn’t occurred to me,” I said.

Wick growled.

“Aren’t you afraid I’ll smother you with a pillow?”