Page 22 of Forged Alliances

Chapter Eleven

Inviting Dax Williams into her house ranked up there in her history of poor decisions.

Even though the mating bond loomed over them, she could feel him buzzing with tension in the bar, and like the other night, she couldn’t help herself. He made sense to her when so many folks didn’t. Besides, rage curled in her stomach at the idea of him having to jump through more hoops to keep his land after what his pack had suffered last night. She stepped up to the familiar outline of her cottage, an ivy-tangled one-bedroom deal she’d always dreamed of as a kid growing up in the city.

A shudder rolled down her spine at the memories she tried to repress. Shifters were meant for wide-open spaces, for fresh earth and looming trees. Not the narrow alleys and the cramped Section Eight housing she’d grown up in. Her wolf had been caged for far too long, and the moment she’d saved enough, she’d driven off and hadn’t looked back. She’d left the shattered bottles and venomous words behind and didn’t regret her decision for a second.

He pressed a palm against her shoulder, the heat of him drawing her to the present. “Everything okay?” his smooth-as-sin voice came from behind her. She fiddled with her keys to unlock the door before turning the ornate brass knob.

“I don’t get many visitors,” she admitted. Most of the times when she hung out with her packmates she lingered around her place of business, Beaver Tavern, or the communal cabin they all shared. This was her sacred space, her retreat away from being an alpha. Whatever impulse pushed her to drive Dax here, already she regretted it. Yet as they stood with his hand still on her shoulder, her hormones took the wheel. The marching beat of their attraction rose by the second. She could feel his proximity, the controlled strength behind his careful touch, and her wolf lunged to mark him every time they met. Sierra might have discipline, she might have self-control, but she wasn’t a goddamned saint.

His shadow fell over her. “Are we going to stand around in the door here? I thought you wanted to kick my ass, soldier,” he said, aiming a light punch to her bicep. Right, a good brawl would provide the exact sort of distraction to get her head out of the gutter.

“Come on in,” she responded, not bothering to look back as she plunged into her house. The lavender sachets she left tucked in cushions and drawers did their job, their delicate aroma woven through the room. The desk she’d been trying to build lay sprawled across her hardwood floor, newspaper still laid down and the pieces scattered. Not like she’d had down time as of late. “Comment about the mess, and I’ll let my claws slip when we brawl,” she muttered, running a hand through her hair.

“Violent, violent woman,” he purred. She didn’t even need to turn back to know a wicked smile graced his lips again, the amused heat in his tone conveying everything. “If you think that’ll scare me away, guess again.”

Even as she hurried through her house, having someone else in her space made her skin prickle as if she stood before him bare. Most of the pack didn’t know the clear lines of delineation she’d drawn between her time as pack leader and anything personal. She loved her people with an unparalleled fierceness, but some bruises from her past had never healed, and some scabs lay one conversation away from ripping raw again.

Sierra reached the kitchen leading to her back door, even though she had to swerve around a couple of piles of mail she’d thrown on the floor and the bag of laundry spilling into the living room. Her hand rested on the battered doorknob, ready to lead the way to the backyard, when she turned to face him. His gaze burned into her with an intensity that made her shiver; a crease formed between his furrowed brows.

“You’re buzzing like you downed an entire pot of coffee,” he said, his voice quiet and for once without the teasing that defined him. “Did I do something to piss you off?”

Shame flushed through her. So much for keeping a tab on her emotions. All his earnest attention might be focused her way, but she wasn’t ready to go under the microscope for anyone. Sierra straightened, lifting her chin as she opened the back door.

“I don’t invite people to my place,” she admitted, letting the implication hang there. “Ever.” Already vulnerability grew to a roar in the back of her mind, a paranoia that spread like a virus.

Dax’s blue eyes darkened with understanding as he nodded in response. Sierra held her breath. The instinct to run pulsed under her skin, and if he pushed for more, she couldn’t control the urge. Instead he grabbed the top of the door, pushed it open wider, and muscled past her, down her rickety steps and out onto grass.

“I think you’re just nervous to take me on,” he teased. Yet as their eyes met, she understood he dove in for her sake, covered up the vulnerability with the same care he did his own.

She took the chance to recover and flashed her teeth with a smile. “You wish. Time to stop talking and see what you’re made of.”

Her steps creaked as she strode down to her backyard, which sprawled into the fringe of the woods. The proximity to the wild sated her wolf, and the freedom of deep forests and the rolling fields kept her sane. The sun beat on her skin, which had darkened to a deep bronze, and a sprinkling of buttercups glowed neon in the afternoon intensity. Dax stripped off his shirt with a familiar ease, the sun illuminating his tanned skin and taut muscles. As far as distractions went, she didn’t mind this one at all.

“Human or shifted form?” he asked.

Sierra snorted. “If I wolf out, you won’t stand a chance. Let’s run drills in human form for now.” What she didn’t say was if she shifted and gave the wolf even a bit of an edge, she was liable to lose her mind and jump his bones. Not like her human side did a great job reining in those impulses either.

A smile spread on his face, one that made his eyes twinkle as if another smartass remark was about to descend. She stripped her shirt off, down to her sports bra and shorts—that shut him up. The air thickened between them, a mixture of the sexual tension curling in her core and the urge to fight pounding her bones. Even in her human form, parts of her shifter self remained, the wolf so intrinsic that she padded around with a similar vigilance, a predator’s caution.

Dax circled her, languid amusement in his gaze. He didn’t have the bracing nature of a wolf—this mountain lion teased with a patience in his approach she couldn’t hope to match. Those muscles flexed with every motion, drawing her attention to his movements. Her pulsing desire took a backseat to the predatory instinct that rode her as she waited for him to give an indication of his first move or, better yet, an opening.

He continued to circle, the slow movements sparking her nerves which bristled with anticipation. She scanned the ground around him, searching for a dip in the dirt or patch of uneven grass where he might shift footing. Knowing the mountain lion, he’d trail around her forever, trying to tire her out or bait her into going first. So when she dove in, her first move would have to be a good one.

Not like the tactic wasn’t sound. Already her muscles begged for action, and the wolf in her readied to snap.

A bird whistled in the background, and his gaze flicked in that direction. Only for a second, but a second was all she needed. Sierra lunged.

* * * *

Sierra stretched her arms over her head, a grin spreading wide on her face. Sweat rolled down her biceps, matted her hair, and the late afternoon sun showed no sign of relenting. Dax’s shoulders heaved up and down, but a smile plastered his own face, the joy of unwinding through a good sparring session unparalleled for her kind. She hoped by fighting out the tension winding through her body she could get back in control, yet the moment their gazes locked, familiar warmth coiled in her core, a pulse between her legs that begged to be sated.

“Is this where you boot me out and tell me to run the rest of the way home?” Dax asked, sauntering past her toward the cottage. Even though she’d been in full contact with him as they’d sparred, her mind transitioned into a different zone during the fight. Watching him stride up her stairs into her place with those delicious defined back muscles on full display punched her in the gut. Something about him in this space felt all too right, and she’d be lying if that didn’t scare the hell out of her.

“This is where we get some grub,” she said, following him into her place. “After a workout like that, I’m jonesin’ for a pulled pork sandwich.” Sierra walked into her bedroom, wiping down her body with a towel. Dax’s shadow spilled across her floor, drawing her gaze up. She fixed him with a look. “That wasn’t an invitation to watch me change.”

He smirked, pushing up from where he leaned against the doorframe to wander through her house. “Nothing I haven’t seen before,” he called, his voice echoing through her small cottage.

---