Wolf Bite (2 page)

The charm in her take-charge attitude had the same effect on the cop that it had on Mason and, for the barest second, interest flickered in the man’s eyes. This time, Mason didn’t bother to disguise his dislike and the cop snapped his notebook shut. “Pretty sure, but someone from the prosecutor’s office will be in touch. Do you need a ride home? That leg looks pretty bad.”

Reminded, Mason glanced down. She’d worn some kind of nylon and it had been shredded over her left knee. Blood flecked the fabric of her skirt and trickled down her calf. She’d all but torn the skin from her leg.

Fresh violence, hot and swift, boiled through him. He caught Alexis’ arm and turned her away from the cop. “I’ll take care of her. Just make sure that trash doesn’t bother her again.”

Dismissing the man, he hauled Alexis out of the alley and toward the street, though he was careful to shorten his stride. Her faint limp had him pausing after several steps to pick her up. Before he could put thought to action, she planted a hand against his chest. The contact froze him in his tracks.

“I am not some sack of groceries for you to haul around.” A scowl filled her pretty upturned face and her eyes flashed. She withdrew a step from him and pulled her purse onto her shoulder. Having had the weight of it slam against him, he slid two fingers under the strap and tugged it away easily.

Her mouth compressed into a thin line and his gut tightened in expectation. The weird feeling probably had more to do with all the blood in his body rushing south to his cock than any real worry about the retribution her tight smile promised.

“What the hell are you doing?” Demand colored her words. Alexis had always possessed a temper, one she used to swallow rather than risk start a fight with the wolves around her.

Her effort made the dominants more protective—and brought out more than a little bitchiness in her contemporaries. He’d intervened on several occasions when they’d taken it too far. Challenges were fine and to be expected.

Taunting her, knowing damn good and well she’d never beat them in a physical fight, wasn’t.

“Carrying your bag. Where are you staying?” Dallas had plenty of hotels, most near the West End. Chances were good she was at the Sheraton, only a couple of blocks away. He’d get her back, then track down the wolves she traveled with—his lone wolf status didn’t prevent him from handing them their collective asses for failing to protect a packmate.

Alexis blew out a breath and cast her gaze skyward. Her mental count to ten turned audible at eight and she pushed the word out between gritted teeth. Her mother Tiffany used to lecture Alexis on controlling her temper. For some reason, she’d always advised counting. It didn’t work for Mason, but Alexis didn’t seem to share his struggle.

“Ten,” she finished with a sigh. “I live off Industrial, in the new high rise. I was on my way to get dinner because I’m hungry. I’m also perfectly capable of walking myself home. Now give me back my damn purse, or do I have to beat you up like the mugger back there?”

Maturity had been kind to Alexis, leaving her tall and long-limbed. The deep brown of her skin had gone almost cocoa—rich, milk chocolate. She’d still been a gawky kid when he left, but she’d filled out in all the right places. Her soft, generous curves and excellent muscle tone suggested she’d broken her attacker’s nose deliberately rather than by accident.

The bad mood he’d been living in for the last several years evaporated at the ferocity of her stance. The blatant challenge added more force to the pounding of his cock. No fear occluded her scent. If anything, the musk of her arousal wreathed her like the most provocative of perfumes.

And it was all Alexis. No hint of another male clung to her, which gave him a savage sense of satisfaction, and he relaxed. “You’re not going to hit me, Lexi. That would be rude.”

Quoting a woman’s mother to her would have a she-wolf clawing his face off, but Alexis gaped for all of about three seconds before she laughed—a real, honest-to-God, belly shaking laugh. With a roll of her eyes, she threw up her hands and said, “Fine. You can walk me home.”

Home.
 

Falling into step with her, he spared her leg a long look. “How bad is it?” It was bloody and torn, from what he could see, and the alley hadn’t exactly been clean.

“Well, I’m just fine, Mason. I get mugged all the time. As muggings go, that was pretty lame. You’d have seen what I can really do if you hadn’t interrupted.” Her flip, go-fuck-yourself tone aside, hurt hummed beneath the anger. The further they traveled from the alley, the thinner the street traffic became. That suited Mason fine.

“Why are you living here? Who’s looking after you?” He cupped her elbow when it came time to cross the street and eyed a driver paying more attention to his phone than the fact that pedestrians were in the crosswalk.

Humans, like all creatures, possessed a survival instinct. Sometimes it took a large predator to remind them, but then Mason was exactly that kind of a predator. The man’s eyes went wide as he focused on him. Satisfied, Mason nodded to him. At least he wouldn’t edge forward any further and potentially hit Alexis—not that he’d have allowed it to happen.

“Because I want to.” She jerked out of his grasp and he took her arm again. “God, four years. For four years, I haven’t had to listen to one of you ordering me around or acting like I’m going to fall apart if the wind blows the wrong way. You’re not in charge of me, Mason, and I don’t answer to you.”

No, she didn’t. On that point, he agreed. “Does your father know where you are?” Ryan had never been a wolf to mess with. Some of the younger wolves thought his suits and refined manners meant he wasn’t as primal as the rest of them—a fact he’d corrected the first time someone insulted his new family and word had got back to him.

And word always got back to Ryan.

It had been Ryan who saw Mason noticing Alexis’ growing maturity. Ryan who’d taken him for a good long run, then beaten the ever-loving crap out of him. Mason grinned at the memory. Her father made it absolutely clear that, while Alexis wasn’t a wolf and didn’t have teeth and claws of her own, Mason risked his balls if he hurt her.

“As of a matter of fact, he does. So you can get the shit eating grin off your face.” She slowed as they approached one of the newest high rises in the region. Mason canted his gaze at the five-year-old building.

He’d helped build it. The closest university was SMU. Maybe she attended the school. At the doorway, she paused and gave him a look. “What are the chances of you handing over my purse and not insisting on seeing me to my door?”

“None.” He returned his attention to her. By the light from the lobby, he could see the faint lines of pain around her eyes and tightening the corners of her mouth. “You’re hurting, Alexis. Let me take care of you and then you can kick me out.” It was the closest thing to concession he was willing to make, though he should have taken her offer to walk away.

Leaving her was the smart move. He was a Lone Wolf, she was still a part of Willow Bend pack. The two worlds shouldn’t mingle, especially if she had no escort. Still, that she had none irked the hell out of him. Ryan should be taking better care of her.

She dropped her chin to her chest and sighed. For a moment, he expected her to continue to argue. Instead, she simply said, “Fine. But if you start the dominant shit and order me around again, I’ll show you what I’ve learned about dropping big, bad boys on their asses.”

Intrigued, he caught the door after she unlocked it and held it open for her. Her glare added to his amusement, so he crowded right up to her at the elevator doors. He would have preferred to walk, but he didn’t know what floor she lived on and if he took the stairs, he’d have to carry her so she didn’t hurt her already injured leg.

She made a great show of ignoring him in the elevator, but the enclosed space let him soak up the layers of her arousal. He didn’t know whether it was the fight or his proximity turning her on. Oddly, he hoped it was the latter, not that he had any business hoping for such things.

She was pack, which meant off-limits. He’d been on his own long enough to appreciate his freedom and mourn the cost. No others to run with, save for the occasional Enforcer, and they only tracked him to see what he was doing. It had been a few months since Margo’s last ‘drop by’ visit. If he never saw the she-bitch again, it would be too soon. Alexis leaned against the wall, arms folded and her expression closed and hostile—utterly at odds with the sweet invitation in her scent.

She’d selected the fifteenth floor.

Too far for a straight leap from the ground, but the balconies on the east and west facing sides of the building were easily ascended. When the doors dinged open, he extended his arm, allowing her to precede him. Pausing, she gave him a skeptical look then snorted.

Yes, he picked up a number of other scents in the hallway—other humans who lived on the floor. Mostly women, at least two small children and few men—what scents were present were sparse. No wolves.

None.

What the hell is Ryan thinking, letting her live here? Exposed?
 

Her apartment was near the end of the hallway—one of the larger ones if his recall of the floor plans was correct, and one without a neighbor abutting right up to her walls. That meant a corner balcony.

Better.
 

Harder to access from the ground, but not impossible. At her door, she turned and handed him the keys. Mason grinned and forgave her second eye roll of the evening. He unlocked the door and she brushed past him to deactivate the alarm.

“Good girl,” he approved and relocked the door before setting her purse down on a table next to the door. Opening it, he glanced inside.

She did have a brick in it.

Alexis stripped off her jacket and headed for the kitchen. Mason prowled after her, unsurprised when she made a beeline for the freezer to pull out a pint-sized container of chocolate strawberry ice cream.

“You always had a sweet tooth.” The apartment was modern, clean lines and new furniture. Touches of her personality reflected in the cool colors and throw pillows. The quilt on the back of the sofa caught his eye.

Her mother had made that.

A wall hanging over the sofa made his heart hurt before he forced his attention away. His mother had sewn the pattern for her.

Pulling two spoons out of a drawer, Alexis pointed to a small metal box on top of the refrigerator. “First aid kit.” She squeezed past him, but the brush of her breast against his arm sent another wave of need cruising through his system. She kicked off her shoes and headed for the living room, so he grabbed the first aid kit and followed.

When she chose a chair rather than the sofa, he perched on the coffee table and picked up her leg. The injury was superficial, if messy. Alexis made a great show of ignoring him and eating her ice cream. Leaning closer, he pressed his nose near to the injury, aware of the spice that was utterly her filling his lungs.

She froze, spoon halfway to her mouth, and tension threaded her calf muscle. Beneath her sweet musk, he scented only blood—no infection and only a bit of dirt. Pleased, he ripped the rest of the hose away from her leg, splitting it to above the knee.

She seemed to remember breathing and went back to eating her ice cream while he cleaned and dressed her wound. When he was finished, he glanced up to meet her dark eyes.

“Thank you,” she said without a hint of reproach or her earlier antipathy.

“You’re welcome.” He kept her leg captive and continued to watch her eat the ice cream. Because he couldn’t help himself, he said, “You grew up.”

“It’s been ten years.” She looked at the ice cream and he found himself envying the sweet treat. It was an altogether unpleasant feeling.

“Why aren’t you in Willow Bend?” Why wasn’t she on pack lands? So far south—she was in one of the few unclaimed cities, practically on the doorstep of the Crescent Delta pack.

She shrugged and took another bite of ice cream. “You don’t have to stay. I’m home. As you can see, I’m safe. You can go back to walking alone or whatever the hell it is you do.”

Trailing a finger down the back of her calf, he studied the way she purposefully ignored him. God, he’d missed her. Her sass, her temper, and the way she knew exactly how to give in just enough to make a dominant back off, but still managed to maintain control of the situation. Damn if she hadn’t gotten better at it. “Alexis?”

Sitting forward, she pulled her legs away from him and handed him the second spoon. “I let you save me. I ran interference with the cops. I allowed you to walk me home and be all alpha male in charge while you checked out where I live and made sure my injury had been tended. I’ll even share my ice cream—but interrogate me? No. You want to do that? The door is there.”

He stared first at the spoon then at her. Her pulse gave away her gambit, but the steadiness of her hand and the clarity in her eyes was just too damn beguiling. The best decision for both of them would be for him to leave.

He was a Lone Wolf.

She was pack.

Her being human was inconsequential—he’d never cared about her race, only that when she smiled his world was brighter.

He’d been living in the dark for a long time.

Accepting the spoon, he eyed the pint in her hand. She held it out to him and smiled.

There really was no other choice for him.

Four years of yoga paid off as Alexis kept her respiration calm and steady. Her leg hurt, though it felt a hell of a lot better than it had before Mason cleaned and dressed it. Breath controlled the heart and governed life. If she exerted her will over both, she wouldn’t provoke the sexy wolf sharing her ice cream.

The weight of his regard was a palpable thing. Wolves, she’d learned in her two decades of living amongst them, possessed varying levels of intensity. They also followed a very specific set of rules and protocol with each other.

Rules which apparently only applied to dealing with each other, not to the wolves when it came to her. As if providing an example, Mason accepted the spoon and took a bite of the ice cream, but not once did he look away from her. She, by contrast, pretended to keep her attention on the ice cream when she wanted to stare at him like a greedy child pressed against a candy store window. One would think he’d do her the same favor, but no…