Page 19 of Savage Prince

No, I’ll go. You stay here out of sight.

She shakes her head and bends at the waist, following me into the shorter grass. “No, I should do it. I have opposable thumbs and can reach the clothesline without jumping up and making noise. And he’s likely to be less freaked out if he wakes up and sees a naked girl in his yard than a giant wolf.”

I want to argue with her, but…she’s right.All right, but if he wakes up, run for that pond and the trees on the other side. If he comes after you, I’ll jump in and discourage him.

She frowns my way. “Why would he follow me? Wouldn’t he just call the cops or something?”

You’re a beautiful naked young woman,I say.And men are pigs. Especially men with muscle cars and comb-overs.

She huffs. “But he’s old enough to be my father.”

Doesn’t matter. Trust me. It’s better to play it safe with men in general and men like that in particular.

She makes a considering sound. “All right. But what if he asks if I need help and seems okay? Could I tell him I was skinny-dipping, and my friends stole my clothes as a prank or something, and ask him for a t-shirt and a sandwich? It seems silly to run from someone who might be willing to help. After all, the faster we can get dressed and fed, the faster we can go looking for the bus station.”

My gut insists it’s best not to trust humans, even ones who seem like they want to help, but that might just be my childhood conditioning kicking in. My birth pack was big on avoiding humanity and the Zion pack is even more secretive and isolationist. Hammer could have made big bucks by renting out our winter home to hikers and mountain climbers in the summer and fall, while the pack was on the island, but he refused to let people on our land, even when we weren’t there.

But she’s right, time isn’t on our side, and the less of it we waste getting dressed and fed, the better.

All right, but don’t go in the house with him,I say.Tell him your parents told you never to go indoors with a stranger and make him bring the food outside if he offers.

She nods. “Okay. Sounds good. And if I need backup, I’ll whistle.” She starts forward, then pauses, puckering her lips and giving an experimental blow. When a soft whistling sound emerges, she exhales. “I can whistle. Good to know. I’ll be back soon. Don’t have too much fun without me.”

Fun…

The last time I had fun was in Catherine’s secret swimming hole, helping Juliet relax and learn to shift. I can still remember the feel of her body resting on my hands in the water and how beautiful she looked with her eyes closed and her arms stretched out to her sides. Her breasts were bare and so tempting with the water swirling around them, but I’d done my best not to look at them, not wanting to embarrass myself by getting turned on in front of our friends.

Now, as I watch her hurry across the grass and creep into Douchebag’s lawn, I wish I’d had more times like that with her.

Fuck, I miss her.

It feels like she’s dead even though she’s right beside me, talking and scheming and well on her way to being the smartass she used to be. But she’s not the same. She doesn’t remember me, rememberus. She’s attracted to me, but she doesn’t love me, and I can’t honestly say if I love her, either.

I mean, I love her as a friend and would lay down my life to protect her, but I’m notin lovewith this woman. She’s notmyJuliet and she might never be, no matter how much time passes. Even with the fated mate bound between us as strong as ever, I don’t know if that will be enough to banish the wrenching sensation in my chest every time I compare now to then.

I blame the dark direction of my thoughts for the fact that I don’t notice Douchebag waking up until he’s swinging his legs off the lounge chair and striding in Juliet’s direction.

Juliet, whose back is turned as she unpins a pair of jeans from the line…

She’s also upwind of the man, so it’s doubtful she’ll smell him coming and if I howl to warn her, I’ll give my position away and attract the attention of the entire neighborhood.

I’m about to risk it anyway, when Douchebag breaks into a run and tackles Juliet to the ground, making my decision for me. I sprint toward them, lips peeling away from my teeth in a snarl.

TEN

juliet

One second,I’m debating whether to grab Ford a blue t-shirt to match his eyes or the yellow, “Beaver Town: There’s no Place I’d Rather Be” for laughs, when I’m suddenly flat on the ground with what feels like a gazillion pounds of sweaty man on top of me.

“Put your hands up,” he shouts, even as he grabs my wrist, wrenching it behind my back hard enough to make me cry out in pain. “I’m sick of you kids stealing my beer and pissing in my hot tub. This’ll teach you to take things that don’t belong to you.”

“Please, sir,” I say, fighting the urge to whimper as he forces my wrist up between my shoulder blades. “I’ve never been in your yard and I’ve never stolen anything before.” As far as I know, it’s true. “I was just swimming with some friends at the pond and—”

Before I can finish, the man grunts as he’s toppled by a couple hundred pounds of wolf.

As his weight vanishes, I roll over to see the guy on his back with Ford on top of him. His claws dig into the man’s bare chest and his teeth hover inches from his throat. He growls with enough menace to make the hairs on my arms stand on end and the man pulls in a breath, presumably to cry for help.

But Ford shoves his nose into his throat with a snarl, making him break off with a terrified gasp.

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