Fear didn’t overtake her, though. She knew that despite the strength and the power that ran through that very muscular body, he would never hurt her. He would never hurt any female. Her instinct was to snap at him, to return his attitude with her own, but that wasn’t how a submissive wolf would behave. So, although it killed her to do it, Jaime lowered her eyes and let the tension leave her body. That seemed to placate him, because although he growled again, it was a growl of approval. It shouldn’t have been like a zap to her clit, but shockingly, it was. Her body was so damn weird sometimes.
“I shouldn’t have snapped at you the way I did,” he allowed. “But you must know why dating a human isn’t wise. You can’t seriously be thinking about having a relationship with him.” It was hard to think past the way his scent—an alluring blend of pine needles, cinnamon spice, and sandalwood—caressed her senses. Looking up, she replied, “Shawn knows the score.” He snickered. “He would say that, wouldn’t he.”
“He and I had a brief fling a long time ago and it ended fine.”
“Oh is that right?” Those quiet words dripped with a menace of which Dante didn’t understand the source. Nor did she, if her expression was anything to go by. “You need to break it off with him, Jaime, before things go tits up.”
See, this was the thing about Betas—they often took their role as “protector” a little too literally. Jaime didn’t need this big-brother behavior, and she especially didn’t want it from a guy who she could never see in a fraternal sense. “Seriously, Dante, you’re letting yourself get frazzled over nothing.”
“I mean it, Jaime. You need to break it off with him.”
Aw, the poor guy really thought she was going to comply. It was kind of cute. “Not going to happen, Popeye. Sorry.” Giving him a slight wave, she turned and strolled away.
“Jaime?” he called after her. “Jaime, don’t ignore me!”
Without breaking stride, she glanced at him over her shoulder. “It’s not that I’m ignoring you.
I’ve just lost interest in the conversation.”
He growled at the smart-ass comment. The female was too obstinate for her own good. His wolf was raging within him, wanting Dante to stop her from meeting this other male. In truth, Dante didn’t like it either. He gritted his teeth against the urge to march over there and grab her. He didn’t want her leaving pack territory knowing that she’d be out somewhere with Pretty Boy; he didn’t want the human touching her or kissing her. He wanted to hoist her over his shoulder and lock her in her room—or maybe his. That irrational response was exactly why he let her go.
His mind, however, didn’t let it go—not even when he was back in his office with paperwork in front of him needing his attention. His wolf was severely irate. Not that his wolf’s sense of possessiveness surprised Dante. His wolf had wanted her badly since she arrived, had felt slightly possessive of her on sight. What did surprise Dante was that he felt a sliver of possessiveness, too.
Being protective and controlling with Jaime were two things he could easily rationalize. Of course Dante was protective, since she was one of his wolves. Of course he was being a little too controlling with her—or, at least, attempting to—as that was who he was. But the hint of possessiveness that was suddenly making itself known…well that was new. He wasn’t, by nature, a possessive person. He’d never been much of a jealous person either, yet that very emotion was circulating through him, curdling in his stomach.
It had to be all tangled up with the blow to his ego, Dante deduced. Plus telling himself that he would not, could not, have her made him want her more. Naturally, that was messing with his head.
Naturally.
No matter how hard he tried to focus on the paperwork in front of him, his wolf and his ego tormented Dante until he found himself taking his cell phone from his pocket. Before he knew it, he was typing a text message. He wasn’t sure where exactly the compulsion came from to type those particular words, but he didn’t fight it.
Remember one thing, Jaime: A human can’t satisfy you the way you need him to.
Not like I could, he thought only a second after he’d sent the message. Thank God he hadn’t typed it.
Interrupting the silent berating he was giving himself for letting his frustrations get the better of him, his cell phone beeped. Immediately he read the incoming message.
He’s always managed just fine in the past, no need to worry. ;) Dante ground his teeth so hard it hurt.
Motherfucker. He’d originally intended to shove his cell back into his pocket and sling the whole thing from his mind now that he’d given his anger a small outlet.
No f**king way would he ignore that taunting response.
“Fine” is enough for you, is it? Never had you down as someone who settled for second best.
He waited impatiently for a response. It came a minute later, though it felt like much longer.
Beta or not, my sex life isn’t any of your business.
A fierce growl rumbled its way up his chest. Those words got to him again for a reason he had yet to understand. She’d wanted to provoke him, and she’d succeeded.
Everything about you is my business. Don’t ever forget that.
A voice in his head pointed out that wasn’t entirely accurate, but it was merely background noise to Dante right now. Her response made both him and his wolf bare their teeth.
Whatfreakingever.
Growling at her dismissiveness, he typed a reply.
Don’t blow me off, Jaime. You need to end this thing with the human before it gets complicated. If things mess up between you and him, it could be bad enough that those idiotic religious groups leap on it and start hanging around outside pack territory again. That’s the last thing we need right now.
He wouldn’t have thought that anything could have made him more pissed than he already was. He was so wrong.
Whoa there, Popeye, that had a hint of paranoia to it. Maybe you should quit the crack pipes. Gotta go.
He so wanted to spank that female’s ass—and hard. Maybe spanking that little attitude out of her would make her finally stop baiting him and rebelling against his every order. Maybe he should also kick his wolf’s ass for being unreasonably possessive of a female to whom he had no rights. His wolf growled at that. He was just as stubborn as she was.
Acknowledging, albeit rather begrudgingly, that she’d won that round, Dante fixed his attention on the work that awaited him, intending to ignore his wolf’s foul mood and the unfamiliar feelings needling his ego. He was not going to think about Jaime Farrow again tonight. Not even once.
The second she had sent her final message, Jaime switched off her cell phone and returned it to her purse, since the movie would be starting any minute now. What was wrong with that guy? She hadn’t realized he had such a hard-on for humans. Recalling that he had a few friends who were humans, she shook off the bigot theory. No, apparently there was another reason Dante had switched from being distant to poking his nose into her business and even attempting to interfere with her sex life.
“What do you make of it?” she asked Riley, who had read every message and had even tried advising Jaime on how to respond.
Riley swallowed the popcorn she’d been munching on before speaking. “The whole thing stinks of jealousy to me.”
“But that makes no sense.”
“He’s a guy, it doesn’t have to make sense.”
She had a point. In Jaime’s experience, when it came to male shifters it was often a case of
“logic optional.” Still, if Dante had had any interest in her, there would have been no reason to hide it. And then, there were the things he’d said to Trick about her. “It can’t be jealousy.”
“I find that hard to believe, but I’ve never even spoken to the guy, so I can only speculate. If you’re sure he’s not jealous, then maybe he just doesn’t like it that you’re not chasing after him anymore.”
“Objection, I never chased him.”
“Okay, maybe he doesn’t like that you’re not gazing dreamily at him anymore.”
“I did not gaze dreamily.”
Riley patted her hand. “Sure you didn’t, sweetie.”
“Patronizing bitch.”
“Giant-loving skank. Now shush, the movie’s starting.”
With a playful harrumph, Jaime turned her attention to the movie screen, ready to let it distract her from thoughts of his peculiar behavior. A minute into the movie, she groaned. The hero just had to be named “Dante,” didn’t he?
CHAPTER THREE
Black wolf. Mom screaming. Growls. Blood. Black wolf. Dad shifting. More wolves. Teeth. Claws.
Mom screaming. Black wolf. Black wolf. Black wolf. Black wolf. Teeth. More wolves. Dad roaring.
Growls. Blood. Blood. Blood.
Jaime sprang upright in her bed, panting, shaking, and sweating. Her heartbeat was loud and pumping aggressively. Snippets of her dream sailed across her mind, and grief ripped through her.
Her wolf was also distressed by this trip-down-memory-lane dream and was vigorously attacking the cage Jaime had confined her to, growling and howling and body-slamming the walls until the bars began to give. Jaime doubled over and cried out as cramps assailed her body and an ache pounded through her head. She fought the change, fought it with every bit of strength she had, fought to quickly repair the cage. She sent calming images to her wolf, hoping to reassure the animal that they weren’t in danger anymore, that it was over.
It was minutes later before her wolf began to settle and the bars finally straightened. Nausea suddenly struck Jaime, and in an agony that was becoming too familiar, she rushed to the bathroom where she vomited violently into the toilet. Even when there was nothing left in her stomach, she was racked by dry heaves.
Nothing Jaime had ever done had been able to heal her wolf. Nothing. She was still as traumatized as she had been at just twelve, when she had witnessed her parents’ murder. Her wolf—
frightened, anxious, angry—had surfaced to protect her. It hadn’t been until three weeks later that Jaime had been able to shift back into her human form. Her wolf had been too distressed and defensive to ease back or understand that the attack was over.
That night had left her wolf damaged. She acted like an abused animal—she was distrustful, easily provoked, and quick to anger. Coexisting with such a prickly, unpredictable wolf weighed hard on Jaime. When she was angry, it fed her wolf’s temperamental streak. When she was anxious, it increased her wolf’s restlessness. Such strong emotions gave her wolf strength, and that strength could easily be used to surface in spite of Jaime’s protests.
Whenever Jaime had shifted, she’d done it alone, because when her wolf came in contact with another she wanted to do only one thing—attack. Her wolf thought she was protecting Jaime from a potential threat. So Jaime had always run alone in her wolf form and had never encountered a problem, until four years ago when she came across another wolf while on a run. The consequences had been bad enough that Jaime had seen no choice but to never let her wolf free again.
As such, she had formed a cage around her wolf. A cage that separated them so completely that Jaime’s emotions could no longer feed her wolf. A cage so impenetrable that it prevented her wolf from surfacing. Yeah that was unnatural, and yeah it meant she didn’t feel whole, but it was the only way to ensure that her wolf was constantly in the backseat.
She had known her wolf would fight her, had known she would want the freedom that any wild animal wanted, but Jaime hadn’t expected her to fight so hard and so relentlessly. And what was the worst thing that could happen if Jaime let down her guard and her wolf became so strong that she managed to get free again? She might never let Jaime come back. She could turn rogue, might lose her human half completely, and then she’d have to be killed.
Dante didn’t realize he was tapping his fingers impatiently on the table until Trick spoke.
“It’s not like you to be edgy. Or to pick at your breakfast. Or to keep looking at the door every minute or so.”
Dante’s eyes slammed on him. His voice was low. “I’m really not in the mood today, Trick.” Wisely sensing that pushing Dante would only earn him a black eye, Trick sighed and dropped his smirk. “I’ll take pity on you. She didn’t stay out the entire night. She was home by eleven thirty.”
“Who?” His casual act might have worked if his fingers hadn’t stopped drumming. Both his ego and his wolf had been having a crisis all night long, wondering just how far Pretty Boy would get with Jaime. He’d wanted to ask someone if she’d returned last night, but that would have been revealing too much. Apparently, his body language gave his thoughts away anyway. Great. Trick might resist pushing now, but he’d certainly tease Dante mercilessly about it later.
He scented her before he saw her; that caramel-and-honeysuckle scent made his wolf growl and the knot in Dante’s chest ease—a knot he hadn’t even known was there until then. But as he looked at her face, it wasn’t lust that shot through him. It was concern. She was pale, there were circles under her eyes, and her usual enthusiasm wasn’t there. Immediately Dante’s hackles were up and his wolf was pacing.
She didn’t look at him at all as she took a seat at the far end of the table near Gabe and Hope
—who, he had noticed, spent a lot of time together. Now that Selma was gone and Hope no longer had someone trying to dominate her into working against the pack, Hope was a much more pleasant member.
Dante watched as surprise, concern, and then realization flashed on Gabe’s face as he took in Jaime’s pallor. He also noticed that Jaime widened her eyes slightly at her brother. Whatever was wrong with her, Gabe knew exactly what it was, and he was worried.