Marked

Chapter Four

Rachel Gentry slammed the driver’s side door closed. Swiping strands of hair away from her face, she marched toward The Wolf’s Den. Her best friend had called forty-five minutes before in a panic, terrified of something she’d done. Chloe had begged Rachel to tell her grandparents she was fine but before Rachel could ask questions the call had ended.

That shit didn’t fly.

Chloe was always reliable—it was the primary reason they’d always been close. Rachel was the one with the volatile lifestyle, taking things as they came at her. Now, with the strange way her friend was acting, she knew something was wrong. She was going to get some answers, even if Chloe begged her to leave well enough alone. And she was going to start with the tattoo parlor Chloe had become obsessed with in the last few weeks.

She yanked the parlor door open and stepped inside. So flipping what? A werewolf tattoo shop. What was so special about that? Chloe had always been fascinated by the supernatural. Why? She had no idea. Humans didn’t mingle with werewolves or vampires. It wasn’t safe. It wasn’t normal. Rational people didn’t venture to Atrum Hill.

Leave it to Chloe to start a new trend.

Although she approached the counter with a confident stride, a pang of fear rattled inside her chest. This wasn’t home—this was wolf country. She was in the den of beasts. She shrugged the notion aside in an instant, relying on anger and worry. Chloe needed her. If not, she never would have contacted Rachel so early in the morning. She needed to find out where Chloe was and make sure her friend was safe.

“Damn it,” a deep, masculine voice yelled from the back. “We’re not open. Come back during business hours.”

Displaying more bravado than she felt, she screamed back, “The open sign is on and the door wasn’t locked. I need to speak to a member of management.”

Curses rang from the back of the building and she heard a chair scrape against the floor. She braced herself, pulse racing, her breath coming out in stilted gasps. No one could make her do anything she didn’t want to do. Mortal police were weaker than preternatural law enforcement but they didn’t back down. Not when it came to their people. She relied on that fact, even as her fight or flight instincts kicked in.

Be strong.

A figure appeared at the end of the hall and stomped in her direction. She didn’t look away, lifting her head, keeping her shoulders straight. She hadn’t traveled into his neck of the woods to be turned away. As a female mechanic, she dealt with her fair share of dickheads. Men always assumed she would be gullible or stupid, something she was quick to nip in the bud. This asshole—even if he wasn’t entirely human—couldn’t bully her unless she let him.

“What the hell do you want?” he snapped, approaching fast. “I told you that we’re not…”

He stopped halfway down the hall, nostrils flaring. His dark hair was clipped short, a few strands ruffled around his ears. His features were more arresting than she could ever have imagined—full lips surrounded by a slight covering of shadow, a nose in perfect proportion to his face and a squared jaw with a steady tic that made him seem dangerous.

His brown eyes turned gold, his irises striking in the dark.

Trying to shake off his presence, she responded, “Chloe Bryant sent me.”

That seemed to reach him. He shook his head and took another step. From her vantage point she could see his arms. The black T-shirt didn’t fully cover the intricate, ink sleeves that covered his skin. The tribal designs contained what appeared to be wolves within the layers.

“And you are?”

“Rachel,” she answered quickly, meeting his gaze.

“Rachel…?” he prodded, obviously wanting her last name, and stopped in front of her. This close—standing just inches away from him from the counter—she could smell him. Like a touch of the woods, forest and earth. Were werewolves supposed to smell this good?

Who cares? You’re not here to get warm and cozy with a man who changes into a dog and hikes his leg at trees to mark his territory. Get a grip!

“Just Rachel,” she retorted hotly, getting her hormones under control.

“What can I do for you, Just Rachel?” he asked, an amused smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. If he meant to break the ice, he’d fucked up big-time. He was teasing her, and she hated being teased.

“I’ve come to pick up Chloe.” When he didn’t react one way or another and just stood there watching her, she asked between gritted teeth, “Are you hard of hearing? Do I need to break out in sign?”

“Actually my hearing is better than most.” The man across from her lost his playfulness and leaned against the counter, the muscles in his chest flexing with the motion. “As you can see, you made a trip for nothing. Chloe isn’t here.”

“Don’t even. I’m not in the mood for games.” She smirked and moved closer. “You don’t want me to call the police, do you? I’m sure they’d love to hear that a human woman entered your parlor and vanished. You might even make the evening news.”

Instead of taking her threat at face value, he grinned. Her insides wilted and burned white-hot. The air seemed to thicken, making it difficult to breathe. When she drew a deep breath the scent in the air increased, swarming her mind, making her sway on her feet.

“You wouldn’t do that,” he rasped, still looking her in the eye. “Not to me.”

The hell I wouldn’t.

“Oh yes I would.” She ground out the words, forcing her increased libido aside, remembering why she’d come here. Chloe needed her. An attractive man with what appeared to be a gorgeous body wasn’t going to catch her off guard. “In fact, I called them before I came here.”

His irises flashed, becoming gold. “You’re lying,” he stated with total conviction, watching her with eyes that saw more than she wanted them to.

Anger replaced desire. True, she hadn’t called the police, but there was no way he could possibly know that.

“Wanna bet?”

He paused as though he was trying to read her. Then his attention shifted to the door. She heard a car pull up to the parlor and his golden eyes narrowed. In a split second the annoying man moved, standing in front of her one moment and beside her the next. The teasing glint in his gaze was gone, replaced with an anger that sent her heart thundering in alarm.

“Son of a bitch.” He reached out, snagged her arm and tugged her around the counter. “I don’t have time for this shit.”

“What do you think you’re doing?” She tried to yank away and winced when his grip increased, his fingers biting into her jacket. “Hey! Let go, asshole!”

If he heard he didn’t listen, literally dragging her down the hallway. Terrified and unable to do anything else, she tried to drop to the ground. To her shock, he seemed to know what she was going to do before she did it. He caught her, slipping his arms beneath her legs and back. She squirmed as he carried her into a room and slammed the door closed with the heel of his boot. He thrust her into a tattoo chair, knocking the air from her lungs, and took a step back. He looked intimidating, folding his massive arms over his chest.

“All right, Just Rachel. Listen up. I’m only going to say this once. Keep your sweet little ass parked in that chair until I get back. If you piss me off you won’t like what happens.”

Her heart skipped a beat before it started to race. “Are you threatening me?” A part of her actually hoped he was threatening her, that he wasn’t all bluff.

What the hell?

“Nope, threats are a waste of time.” He glanced at the door, cursed and returned his attention to her. “Keep quiet. We’ll talk about Chloe after I take care of business.”

With that he spun on his heel to exit the room.

“Wait,” she called out, wondering if he’d ignore the request.

He took a deep breath and glanced over his shoulder. “Yes?”

“You didn’t tell me your name.” She wanted to wince as soon as she said it, wishing she could take the words back.

Now you’ve gone and done it, dummy.

It was a stupid, girly thing to say. And she knew it.

She should be asking about Chloe or scrambling out of the chair. Instead she felt an odd tug in her chest, some part of her wanting to know at least something about the man standing imposingly across from her.

The amused grin on his face made her tingly in all the wrong places. “I didn’t, did I?”

Even though she was hoping for more, he left her guessing.

The door closed behind him with a soft snick. She gasped for air, realizing it was difficult to breathe. This wasn’t the woman she’d trained herself to be—strong, unbreakable and unwilling to bend to another’s will. The pride she took in her self-assurance cracked, leaving her shaken.

No one had ever affected her in this way, and the knowledge terrified her. For the first time in her life Rachel found herself staring into empty space without anything to say.

Coming to The Wolf’s Den was a very bad idea.

Of all the dumb fucking luck.

Declan Schroder strode down the hall, trying to calm down and get his throbbing cock under control.

Talk about a complex female.

The woman who’d walked into his building was all attitude with a fuck-with-me-and-regret-it glare, lithe frame and intriguing face. The little minx had gotten his blood pumping, making his dick harden to the point of pain. As a male, he couldn’t resist the challenge she’d issued. There was no give in her, zero softness. Even if she’d been aroused by his flirting, she’d blown him off good and proper. She’d be a hellion in the sack, giving as good as she got.

Stop thinking with the wrong head. Just Rachel has to wait.

Another visitor had thrown a wrench into what could have been a very good time. Fuck if it didn’t piss him off. Just once he’d like to relax and unwind without having to do the right thing.

Goddamn Simone.

It was bad enough dealing with the bothersome bitch the evening before. Talking to the obtuse female before he’d even settled into his routine burned like a rash beneath his skin. Not to mention she’d arrived at a shitty time. She needed to take a hint and find some other dumb schmuck to fuck around with.

“Declan,” Simone purred as she turned from the framed tattoo flash on the wall.

She’d dressed to impress in a skimpy top and skirt, her long black hair hanging in bouncy curls down her back. Fortunately werewolves had higher body temperatures and could handle the cold. Otherwise she’d have to do the respectable thing and wear modest attire for a change.

She shifted her feet, her high heels clicking on the floor, and her full, cherry-red lips dipped into a frown. “You don’t look happy to see me.”

I’ll take understatement of the fucking millennium for five hundred, Alex.

“I’m never happy to see people who come in without making an appointment.”

“Then I’ll make this quick.”

As she approached he had to force himself not to laugh. Simone knew he wasn’t interested but she didn’t stop playing her stupid games, shifting her hips from side to side, making her legs flex with each step. Sure, the female had a great body—one that was blessed by werewolf genetics—but the central command center between her ears was no longer in service.

“I went to see Jackson this morning but he wasn’t home. Do you know where I can find him?”

Here we go. “I’m his second-in-command, not his secretary.”

“Oh come on. Everyone knows Jackson tells you everything. That’s why you’re his Beta.” She stopped at the counter and leaned over it, revealing huge breasts that strained to escape the lacy material confining them. “I have something I want to give him. You’re ruining my surprise.”

“It wouldn’t be an STD, would it? I don’t think he’d be too thankful for a gift that keeps on giving.” As soon as the words came out he wanted to kick himself in the ass. He just couldn’t help himself sometimes.

Thankfully the insult floated right over her head. “That’s you, always making a joke of things.”

I wonder what she’d say if I told her it wasn’t a joke?

He quickly moved away from the temptation of actually asking the question, shrugging. “Life would be boring without a little spice.”

“I agree.” Simone’s dark blue eyes lifted a shade and her smile went from playful to seductive. “That’s why I need to talk to Jackson. Once he understands what I can bring to the table he’ll know why we’re meant to bring the packs together. It doesn’t have to be all work. I know how to play.”

“I just bet you do.” He lowered his arms and slid his hands into his pockets before he did something stupid, like snatch Simone up and march her shameless ass outside. “Like I said, I’m not his secretary. If he’s not home he probably had things he needed to do. Call his cell and leave a message. I’m sure he’ll get back to you when he’s got a minute to spare.”

Or when hell freezes over.

“Well…” She frowned and glanced at the arm he’d inked, studying her slightly reddened skin. “What if I waited here? He’s bound to show up sooner or later. You could work on my design. It definitely could use more color.”

“As tempting as that sounds, I’m booked.”

He peered down the hall, thinking about the fiery temptress with wild strawberry-red hair and eyes the color of the morning sky. He wondered if she’d stayed where he’d put her. A part of him hoped she hadn’t so he could make good on his threat.

“In fact,” he continued, “you interrupted me while I was speaking to a client. I need to get to work.”

“Tell him I’m looking for him.” Her voice took on a harsh edge, becoming serious. “You boys can only play games for so long. I think you should know my father consented to the match. Unless Jackson wants to piss him off, he’ll make sure he finds time to see me. Make sure your Alpha knows that.”

Shit.

He kept his mouth shut, knowing his smartass remarks would no longer be welcome. He watched as she walked across the room and left the building. It wasn’t until the door closed that he released the breath he’d been holding.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

The pack already had enough going on without dealing with an arranged mating. Jackson would hit the roof when he found out what Simone had been up to. Her father—Ward Wilson—wasn’t the most easygoing werewolf in the area, and everyone knew he worshipped his only child.

Shaking his head, he headed back down the hall. At least there was one thing to look forward to. He was about to discover if his unexpected guest did as she was told. He growled when he opened the door. Not only was she not where he’d left her but the little hellion had given him the slip.

He didn’t bother looking out the opened window, rushing back down the hall instead. He heard a car start followed by the sound of grinding gravel. He ran across the sitting area and opened the door, knowing he was too late.

Damn it.

She’d already pulled onto the road. With a grin, she punched the gas and flipped him off. He wasn’t good at reading lips but her mouthed “Fuck you” came out loud and clear. Surprisingly the offensive gestures didn’t make him angry. Instead his cock rose, stiff against his zipper. His wolf stirred inside him—not for the first time since he’d met the ballsy female—brushing against the inside of his skin. The beast wanted to nip at her flesh and mark her as its own. He wondered what it meant, confused by something he couldn’t explain.

The woman was attractive and he’d love to spend time between the sheets with her, but she was human. There hadn’t been dreamsharing. Since she didn’t have a hint of wolf in her, there probably wouldn’t be. The likelihood of finding his mate—a mate connected to Chloe of all people—was slim to none.

Maybe it was something else, like the recent drought of sex brought about by work, pack and other responsibilities. He hadn’t gotten laid in months. That certainly didn’t help matters.

Still…

He stomped into the parlor and took a deep breath.

Honeysuckle and linen greeted him—Just Rachel’s alluring scent calling to his beast. His wolf rumbled a throaty growl, wanting to track the female down, bend her over his lap and bust her softly rounded ass. He’d keep her hanging on the edge of climax between swats, teasing her clit, making her regret her reckless behavior. Only when she begged for relief would he give her what she wanted, sliding his cock into the haven of her cunt, taking her so hard and fast her eyes would cross.

His dick pulsed, balls going taut. He could only imagine how sweet she’d sound when she came, how husky her voice would become when she asked for more.

Mate or not, he’d make it happen. It had been years since he’d had this kind of interest in a female. Just Rachel had screwed herself over coming for Chloe. When the dust settled he’d find out where the sultry woman lived and pay her a visit—one she’d never forget.

Pissed off, sexually frustrated and at the end of his rope, he locked the door, flipped the sign to closed and strode toward the back of the building. It was time to start thinking with the proper head. Good thing his Alpha had listened to his advice and left home. That gave him a window of opportunity to make some calls. His visit to the diner had been a bust. If he wanted to get answers, he had to start digging for information.

He took a seat at the desk, flipped through the Rolodex and picked a place to start. As the phone rang in his ear, he settled back in the chair and raked his fingers through his hair.

Sometimes being the Beta of a prominent pack blew balls.