Page 44 of Claimed By Werewolf
“Your charm never fails.”
“Not selling charm,” he said.“Selling survival.”
The ride back to my apartment was thankfully uneventful, other than just enjoying being pressed against Werewolf.
At my door, he stood with his back to the hall while I unlocked it.A wall with tattoos, knife scars, and a patience I hadn’t earned but took anyway.“Inside,” he said.“And keep the blinds closed.”
“Bossy,” I muttered, and slid inside.
“Protective,” he corrected, and I couldn’t even roll my eyes because the word hit me right in the heart.
“Am I okay to shower, or maybe you could join me to make sure I’m safe?”I suggested.
His gaze raked up and down my body.He opened his mouth to answer, but his phone rang.He pulled it out, and any interest he had was now on his phone.
“I’ll just shower while you take your call,” I muttered and waved my hand over my head as I headed down the hallway to the bathroom.
I showered in record time.I scrubbed the scent of Werewolf from my skin until I hated that it faded.I toweled off and ducked into my room across the hallway to dress.Werewolf’s voice was a low murmur while he still talked on the phone.I pulled on a tank top and then pulled his hoodie back on.It was going to have to be pried out of my cold, dead hand before I ever gave it up.
When I stepped back into the hall, he was leaning against the opposite wall, staring at nothing like it had offended him personally.His eyes flicked to me, down my body, and then back up.
“Approve?”I asked.
He nodded.“You could wear a trash bag and I would approve, babe.”His eyes dropped to the floor.“We’ve got a change of plans.”
I frowned.“I don’t like the sound of that.”
“Prez called.We’ve got church.”He paused.“Club meeting.I need to be back for it.”
Well, that certainly was a change of plans.“Is that a bad thing?”
Werewolf shrugged.“Won’t know until then.”
I looked down at what I was wearing.“I look okay for your wolves?”I asked.
“You look like mine,” he said, so simply it set off tingles under my skin I couldn’t control.
We were quiet on the way down the stairs.I noticed his hands hovering at the small of my back without touching, the almost-contact making my body overreact like he’d branded me.At the curb, he scanned the street.Something in his stance changed, stiffened a degree most people wouldn’t catch.
“What?”I asked.
“Nothing.”He didn’t move for a count of three.“Get on.”
We cut through the city to the clubhouse, the neon skull still buzzing even in daylight.The lot was busier than when we had left.Bikes lined like a shining warning, while men and women were scattered in loose clusters all around.Heads turned the second we rolled in.I made myself look past them and kept my palm flat between his shoulders as he eased the bike into a spot near the back door.
He turned the engine off.The sudden quiet rang.
“Ready?”he asked.
“No,” I said truthfully.
He glanced at me over his shoulder.“Honest.I’ll take it.”
Inside, the air was thicker with the music low and a TV murmuring in a corner.A few faces I recognized from the garage watched with open curiosity.The women’s looks were cleaner cut: evaluation in one glance, verdict in the second.A brunette in a leather bustier, with winged eyeliner, drifted closer on long legs and a sharper smile.
“So this is her,” she said, not bothering to make it sound like a question.“Tremor said you were too soft to bite a claim, Wolf.Guess he’ll eat those words.”
I made the mistake of meeting her eyes.Hers dipped to the hoodie drowning me.“Cute,” she said.“He’ll hide you in his clothes until you forget what you are.”
