Page 7 of Wolf Bound

I grab the gift basket I put together for Elias from the passenger seat and pull myself out, then take a deep breath before heading to the door.

I know knocking is pointless since I hear loud music and voices coming from the backyard, so I don’t bother. No doubt, everyone is hanging out on the patio around the pool.

The house is eerily silent as I walk inside—not surprising since all the fun is out back—and my heeled booties click across the dark hardwood floor as I make my way into the kitchen. After dropping my gift on the dining room table along with the rest, I move toward the backdoor. I’m halfway there when the hairs on the back of my neck rise, and I realize I’m not alone.

Whirling around, I find a tall, muscular man standing in the living room. Startled, I jump back and inadvertently let a small yelp escape.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” he apologizes. A crooked smirk grows on his classically handsome face. “I was just about to go raid Elias’ kitchen to find the good booze. I know he has some around here. All they have down there is canned beer and white wine.”

“Not a fan of wine?” I clear my throat and lower my hand from my chest, where it flew when his presence caught me by surprise.

“I’m more of a whiskey or bourbon guy,” he explains as he walks past me. “What about you, what are you drinking?” He leans around the cabinet door he opened, his forest green eyes scanning me head to toe.

I’m suddenly glad I had put some effort into my appearance today, opting for distressed skinny jeans, bootie heels, and a black tight high-necked tank top. All pieces from my Aunt Addison’s shop, of course. My long blonde hair is twisted into a chic side braid, and I left a couple pieces out to frame my face. I even went as far as to apply a pale pink lipstick.

Remi will be proud of me.

“I just got here, so nothing yet,” I tell him, fearlessly meeting his gaze. He has the boy-next-door look, classically styled dirty-blond hair, and a clean-shaven face. Cute—just not my type.

“But you’re looking in the wrong place,” I inform him, smirking as he opens another door only to find more dishware. “Elias hid the good stuff a month ago because the twins kept drinking it all.” I walk over to the kitchen cabinet that holds Margot’s expensive china, and move a few pitchers and stemware out of the way, revealing a stash of high-end liquor. I pull out a bottle of pricey whiskey and hand it to the blond-haired man. “Here you are, just make sure the twins don’t see you with it. Elias won’t appreciate it if he has to find a new hiding place.”

“I promise I can keep a secret.” He crosses his heart with his right hand in a dramatic fashion.

I nod in thanks as he takes a step toward the backdoor. “See you out there—umm…?” I realize I don’t know his name.

“Sawyer,” he tells me. “And you are?”

“Pruitt, or Pru. I’ll answer to both.”

Sawyer cocks his head, examining me again. His eyes narrow as they meet mine, and after a moment of staring, he shakes his head. “I swear you look familiar. Have we met before?”

“Doubt it.” I play with the ring that used to be my mom’s that sits on my right ring finger. “I’ve lived in San Francisco my whole life. I just moved here at the end of last summer.”

“Huh,” he mumbles. “Well, I’ll see you out there.”

I watch as Sawyer walks through the back door and down the steps leading to the stone patio, and see the multi-level surface is full of people of all ages. I never would have thought that kids would be attending a party for a fifty-year-old, but it looks like mostly families are here.

My gaze continues to follow Sawyer as he weaves through, and something in my gut tells me to pay attention, he’s going to lead me to something important.

My eyes never leave his white button-down clad back as he makes his way through the crowd. People smile and wave, obviously recognizing him. Which is odd, because of all the times I’ve been to the Weylyns’ home in the past ten months, I have never seen him around.

Sawyer stops in front of a pretty young woman with raven-colored hair and a tall tattooed man. Suddenly fascinated in the latter, my gaze scans him, starting at his heavy boots and slowly making its way up his low-slung jeans.

He’s wearing a tight black t-shirt that does a horrible job at hiding how muscular he is as his thick tattooed arms look like they barely make it through the sleeves. I follow the tattoos up to his neck, where I see them peeking through the collar of his shirt and swirling along his jugular. I don’t know if I have ever found tattoos attractive on men before, but something calls to me. I want to trace every single one of them with my finger, and I wonder how much of his body they cover.

Finally, I manage to move on to his face. His serious gaze is scanning the yard as he listens to what Sawyer and the pretty girl are saying to him. He doesn’t speak as far as I can tell but gives a curt nod here and there.

The more I look at his stern face, the more I realize I’ve seen it before. Hanging in pictures frames all over the Weylyns’ house.

Holy shit, that’s Ryker Weylyn.

Ryker is the oldest Weylyn sibling, and I’ve yet to have the opportunity to meet him. According to Remi, he hasn’t been home in over five years. I’ve never asked why since it’s none of my business, but the small amount of information I’ve gathered makes me understand why he looks serious in all the photos and in person. Remi told me when Ryker was thirteen, he lost someone very important to him. And I’m certainly one who can understand how losing someone important to you can mess you up.

There’s also no denying all of the Weylyn siblings are related. They all have the same dark-brown hair and bright-blue eyes. The twins, Ransom and Ranger, are a lot leaner than Ryker, I see now. He is bulkier and taller than them, not by much, though. Elias is tall himself, it makes sense his children would be too.

Having been lost in thought, I focus back on the tall, dark-haired man. Then, suddenly, still staring at his striking face, I realize something makes me wish the floor would swallow me whole.

Ryker is staring back at me. From my spot up in the kitchen window, I can tell his eyes are wide and his mouth is slightly gaping.

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