Skin Deep (3 page)

Angelique shooed Kira into the bathroom and knelt so she was face-to-face with the big cat. She lowered her voice. “If you tear up my bathroom, I’ll skin your hide. Understand?”

Kira huffed and tossed her head before settling onto Angelique’s plush bathroom rug. She winced, but cat hair was nothing compared to Kira potentially hurting someone or, worse yet, showing herself.

Angelique shut Kira into the bathroom and headed back toward the bedroom door. She placed her ear against it and listened.

“You shouldn’t have come here. What the hell were you thinking?” Connor’s voice was gravelly and low again.

Monica’s heels tapped on the hardwood floor. “What was I thinking? What was
I
thinking?” She laughed. “I’m not the one that should have to answer that question. You’re pathetic coming here. You could have something so much better with me. I want you, and I understand you. Do you think she’ll ever understand or care about you the way I do? Do you? You’re wasting your time. Not too much longer, and—”

A fierce growl curled beneath the door, and if Angelique hadn’t had her ear pressed against it, she would’ve thought it had come from Kira in the bathroom, except again…it sounded more canine. “How dare you! Get out of here. Now.”

“Make me. Obviously, you’re set on staying here, but I won’t make it easy for you.”

Angelique wanted to punch her in her perfect nose. Jealousy hit her in the gut like a sledgehammer. Shit.

She still loved Connor.

Chapter Two

Connor couldn’t believe he’d been so close to having at least a tolerable evening with Angelique for the first time in too long, and now he had to deal with Monica. When Angelique had first left him, he’d rebounded with the other woman, but he’d quickly recognized his mistake. Monica didn’t know when to accept that it was over. She was a werewolf, like him, and in her mind, they made a perfect match.

He couldn’t stand her snobbish ways. And while she was beautiful, she didn’t know when to just shut up. They could never be mates.

Monica stared him down and cocked her chin up a notch, daring him to do something. She knew he didn’t like to hit women. That was part of his upbringing, something he cherished, but if she didn’t back down and act sensible about this, she’d test his patience.

No, there had to be a way around that. He didn’t want to fight. When werewolves fought, it wasn’t in human form. And wolves didn’t care about things like damaged furniture or lamps.

He hefted her over his shoulder, and she let out a surprised gasp. She didn’t do anything for a moment, whether she was too stunned or because she liked it, he didn’t know. When he rushed to the door, her fists smacked against his back and she bucked in his arms.

“Set me down, damn it. Don’t make me fucking hurt you,” she shouted.

He reached for the doorknob, but her legs slammed into him hard, driving air from his lungs. His grip on her slipped, and she landed, wobbling on her stilettos. How she kept her balance in those, he’d never know. Her palms slammed into his chest, driving him back a few steps.

His eyebrows rose. Maybe he’d underestimated her ability to fight. She’d taken advantage of his distraction well.

Her lips quirked into a wicked smile—the same look that had driven him to her, but he wouldn’t let it affect him now. Right now, he needed to get her out of here.

“Come on. Don’t make me fight you.” He nodded his head toward the door. “You know it wouldn’t go well.”

Her smile turned into a frown, and anger lit up her eyes. “I’m not afraid of you. Your absence has made me a stronger person. I’ll fight for you, even if I have to fight
you
.” She balled her hands into fists. Her petite shoulders tensed, and she stabbed her finger into his chest. “You could do so much better than that piece of trash. I mean look at this place—”

Before he could stop himself, he grabbed her by the arm, twisting it behind her back hard enough to drive a gasp from her lips. He tossed open the door and swung her through it. “Get out of here, now.”

Monica stumbled down the steps, falling to her knees. She slowly turned her head, and her eyes were wolf-amber. A low growl emanated from her lips. “You’ll regret that.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “You shouldn’t test me. You know I’m not with you. You just don’t listen. Leave now and I won’t tell the Alpha.”

She scoffed but looked startled. “What? That you’re trying to mate with a human rather than partake of a willing wol—” A man with a small dog walked down the sidewalk, casting both of them wary glances. “Woman.” Her lips pulled back from her teeth, and she shot the man a glare. He hurried down the street, crossing at the corner.

“With how you’ve acted, I think he won’t hesitate to take my side. Face it, he knows how you are.” His words carried false bravado. He had no idea whose side the Alpha would take. Not with how things had gone the last time he’d seen Lowell face-to-face.

Connor turned and walked back inside. He glanced through the peephole when he got in to see Monica still on her knees staring down at her hands. She tilted her face up to the moon and screamed before rising to her feet.

“You’re wrong.” Monica’s whispered words didn’t have much conviction. Maybe she didn’t believe them. She darted to her car, which she’d parked right behind his.

While he felt sorry for her, she’d been there when they’d been before their leader. He couldn’t think of how else to explain that there was nothing between them. He wanted Angelique, and that was all. He didn’t know what he’d do if she turned him down again. His time for convincing her how much she meant to him was running out.

He strode toward her bedroom door. Standing before it, he raised his arm to knock, but the rip in his sleeve drew his attention. He hadn’t noticed it before while he was worrying over Angelique.

Lifting the sleeve to his nose, he sniffed it. Cat. Odd. Angelique didn’t have pets. He’d have noticed. He took a huge whiff of the air in the hallway. When he’d held Angelique, he’d heard a growl…but he’d thought it was Monica.

If she was a feline shapeshifter, he should have been able to detect it before. It didn’t make any sense. He always smelled shifters. With a brisk knock on her door, he stepped back and waited. If she was a werecat, his mating predicament had stepped to a new level of headache. Werewolves didn’t mingle with other shifters.

“What?” she asked.

“Monica is gone. You can come out now.” Connor leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest.

Angelique sighed. “Why should I? What do you want from me? Why did you come here?”

Frowning, he wiped a hand over his face. “I want to talk. You haven’t given me much of a chance since we were last together. I want my side heard too. It’s not fair of you to decide one day to shut me out. Besides, like I said, I want you to have a good birthday. You deserve one.”

He didn’t have much more fight in him after dealing with Monica, and he didn’t want the evening to end this badly. Maybe he had screwed up by coming here.

No, he’d risked a lot to have Angelique in his life. He wouldn’t back down.

The lock clicked, and the door to Angelique’s bedroom opened. She stood in the doorway and stared up at him before glancing around his shoulder.

“She’s gone,” he said.

“Who was she?”

He sighed, not wanting to discuss Monica right now. He needed to talk to Angelique about why he was here. Her. “It’s a long story.”

Her gaze flicked to his face, and she let out a breath. Her hunched shoulders lowered as her tension drained away. “Okay. You wanted to talk. Let’s talk.”

With a nod, he walked back to the kitchen. She followed, wearing a different shirt and jacket now. His suspicions tugged him back to thoughts of her being a werecat. He took a deep breath. She smelled entirely human. Damn. Any lingering trace of cat had vanished.

He grabbed the paper bag he’d brought with him and pulled out the chicken and pasta. He’d planned her favorite meal, Chicken Florentine. And as an added touch, he’d purchased flowers. She gasped behind him, and he twisted to see her standing next to the counter where he’d placed them. Her wide eyes lit up her face as she took them in. Then, as if a light had switched off, she glanced at him like he’d done something wrong. That didn’t disguise the way she sniffed them or gently ran her fingertips over the vase.

“Thanks.” She moved over to a stool at the kitchen island. She placed her elbows on the counter and rested her chin in her hands.

“You’re welcome.” He put the chicken in a skillet, and then set the pasta to boil in hot water as awkward silence stretched between them. He glanced over at her, and she stared him. The silence finally got to him. He turned to face her. “What happened?”

She frowned at him, and her forehead wrinkled in confusion. “What?”

“Between us. Things had been going so well…then…” He shook his head. “Then…what? What changed your mind?”

Her face fell, and she turned away from him. She had an answer but was too nervous to tell him what it was. No, she couldn’t keep it from him. He had to know what was going through her mind, since she was all that was on his. God, he’d missed seeing her.

He crossed the distance between them and placed a finger beneath her chin. “What is it, Angel? Please talk to me. You should know that you can tell me anything.”

She looked into his eyes, and he grimaced at the unshed tears there. Her lower lip trembled. He couldn’t take seeing her like this.

“I’m sorry.” Her gaze lowered, and she shook her head a little. “I just am… I’m not good with relationships.”

The subtle change in her scent caught his attention. She wasn’t telling him the whole truth. How could he confront her about that?

“What aren’t you saying?” he asked.

Her gaze snapped up to him and then toward her bedroom. “Wh…what?”

Pulling away, he stared in the direction of her room as well. “You’re hiding something.”

He took a step that way, but before he could get far, she grabbed his arm. “What do you think you’re doing?”

He tilted up his chin and sniffed the air. She was hiding something, and he needed to find out what it was. She owed him that much.

She focused her stare at him, expecting an answer.

“Preparing dinner.”

“The stove is the other way.” Angelique pulled away from him and stood, ready to run at a moment’s notice. They had serious issues to work through, but she was what he wanted. He’d gone toe to toe with his Alpha and Monica over her. He knew there would be more problems with Monica, so there better be, at the very least, closure here. He needed it.

He filled their plates with food, and she finally sat back down on the stool.

“No, not there. Grab the candles from the bag and set up the formal dining table,” he said.

She looked unconvinced that he wouldn’t try something while she was gone, but she went off to the dining room. He brought in the plates, and then went back for the bottle of wine he’d chilled before coming over. It was her favorite, as well. He poured each of them a glass, and she stared at him, pain lingering in her eyes. He didn’t want her to endure any more pain. Not when he was around. He wanted her happy.

“Thank you for doing this,” Angelique said. She smiled, but the gesture only tightened her pretty pink lips. “It’s been so long since I’ve had Chicken Florentine or anyone’s cooked in my kitchen.”

“You’re welcome, Angel.” He brushed his thumb across the smooth skin of her cheek. The desire to kiss her tugged at him badly enough to make him ache. But he pulled away. He wouldn’t force himself on her.

A blush of color crept into her cheeks. She lowered her gaze to her food. Maybe he wasn’t the only one with these yearnings. That idea warmed his insides. He might have a chance with her after all.

He took their empty plates. “I’ll take care of these. It’s your birthday.”

“Thanks.” She glanced up at him. “I did love you. I just… I don’t know if I’m really someone you would want to have a relationship with.”

He smelled truth behind her words. She meant what she said, but what did she mean? Of course he wanted to have a relationship with her. He understood her being afraid of committing. As a werewolf, his life was harder than a normal person’s. He had to keep his beast in check, but he was willing to take the chance with her.

He set the dishes on the kitchen counter. “What are you talking about?” He closed the distance between them and leaned in, his lips hovered above hers.

She arched into him as if she could not help herself, and her soft curves pressed against his chest. He wanted to sink into her, claim her, and keep her close to him forever.

“I’m different.” Her breath caressed his mouth.

He lifted her into the air and set her on the counter. The scent of her arousal floated up to him, and yet that was the only scent he caught. No animal anyway. She hid a secret, and from the evidence so far, he suspected it was a supernatural one. Not something he’d mind, but he wasn’t sure how his Pack would react. Werewolves typically frowned upon mating with humans, but mating with a non-werewolf shifter was out of the question entirely.

“I don’t care. I want you.” He pressed his lips against her neck and moved them lower until they brushed her collarbone.

She tilted her head to the side, giving him access, a moan escaping her lips. “I want you too, but—”

He covered her lips with his, swallowing any protests. He knew she could talk herself out of anything, and he didn’t want to give her that opportunity. Not with his chance at claiming her for his own ending so soon.

Chapter Three

Angelique wrapped her arms around his neck, sinking into the warm sensation that being around Connor stirred inside her. She froze, knowing this might not be what was best for her, but with him being here—so close, and apparently so ready too—she didn’t know if she had it in her to turn him away.

Connor pulled back a little, concern darkening his eyes. “Tell me if you don’t want this.”

She opened her mouth to refuse him, to distance herself, but the words wouldn’t come. What was the problem with giving in? She leaned forward, pushing her fingers into his dark blond hair. Her lips met his, and he groaned.