Page 41 of Wanted

“There’s plenty left and I’ve prepared my special corn salad and the grilled meat you love.”

I hold up my hand, letting Ms. Elsie know I see her. She waits a beat but eventually heads back inside.

When I turn back to Emery, she’s busy applying the tiny bit of makeup from her compact to her cheeks. She appears slightlyfrantic as she drops a makeup brush into the bag and digs through it looking for something else.

I watch her, not because I think she needs to apply makeup, but because I can’t take my eyes off of her.

I watch everything and everyone.

As the main beta and head of protection for my pack, I’ve become the silent watcher, noting others’ movements and intentions even before they do.

My gut tells me Emery’s desire to fix herself and apply makeup comes out of a longing for approval.

To belong or not be judged.

“There,” she says with what looks like a sigh. “At least, I have enough of the basic makeup to look decent. This is as good as it’s going to get for now.”

She passes her hands over her shirt again.

After two attempted attacks, finding out a whole world she never knew about existed, a day of driving, and the lingering fear over her sister’s whereabouts, Emery still does her best to appear put together for others.

I flex and then clasp my hands because the urge to run my fingers through her hair, messing it up, to kiss her lips until they’re swollen and puffy, and watch her writhe beneath me her expression wanton with need, nearly has me tossing her over my shoulder.

I have no fucking idea where this sudden desire comes from. Yes, I’m a man with needs, but never have I desired any woman the way I want Emery.

Want.

That one word brings me back to reality.

It is not for me to want anything or anyone. I go to those women in town because my physical need for touch and sex can get in the way of my thinking when it comes to ensuring my pack’s safety.

And because I know those women would never truly ever consider being mated to a broken wolf like me.

I briefly think about giving Gloria a call soon.

No!

My wolf’s response to that thought resounds through my mind.

“Let’s go,” I say to Emery without giving her another look. To do so, right now, would be dangerous for her and for me.

I stride toward the door leaving Emery to follow behind me, though I’m keenly aware of her nearness. No, I can’t hear her footsteps or her ragged breathing, but the goose bumps trailing up my arms tells me she’s close by. The way my wolf pants like a bitch in heat is also a dead giveaway.

I yank the door open and step to the side, allowing Emery to enter before me. She hesitates as she passes, her gaze locking with mine.

Something happens to my knees as her eyes meet mine. They weaken. Maybe something’s wrong with my tendons. I’ll have to make an appointment with Dr. Drake in the morning.

Maybe it’s just her.

I don’t know where that thought comes from, nor do I give it much time to take root as I pass through the door.

My nose leads me to the kitchen and I place my hand at the small of Emery’s back to guide her in that direction.

As soon as we enter, all movement inside stops. Out of the thirty or so pack members here, they’ve all paused, their attention aimed at Emery and me.

Emery moves into my side. I don’t even realize my arm snaking its way around her waist, holding her to me until I notice Ms. Elsie drop her gaze to where my hand rests.

Instead of releasing her, however, I let my hand splay against her hip.

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