7. Chapter 7
Julia
This is ridiculous. I'm pretending to be mated to a werewolf I barely know to save my career while hunting for a stolen tiara. My life has veered so far off-plan that I can't even see the roadmap anymore.
Adrian’s truck rumbles as we drive through the darkness, headlights cutting through the dense fog that's settled over Saltford Bay.
My overnight bag sits between us on the bench seat like a physical manifestation of the boundary I need to maintain.
I'm hyper-aware of Adrian beside me, of his large, powerful frame, of the way his hands grip the steering wheel with casual strength, of how the leather and pine scent of him fills the enclosed space.
The silence stretches between us, thick and weighted. Adrian clears his throat.
"We're almost there," he says, his deep voice vibrating through me. "It's just past this bend."
I nod, not trusting myself to speak. My phone buzzes in my pocket and I welcome the distraction. It's a text from Courtney.
I may have found a supplier for Vanda Coerulea. Sending info to your email.
A small burst of hope blooms in my chest. At least one thing might be going right.
"Good news?" Adrian asks, glancing at me.
"Possibly. My assistant might have found a supplier for those rare blue orchids Seraphina wants."
He makes a noncommittal grunt, turning the truck onto a narrow dirt road barely visible in the darkness. Trees crowd close on either side, branches scraping against the windows.
The truck's headlights finally illuminate a clearing and Adrian's home emerges from the darkness. It’s a two-story cabin nestled among towering pines.
His home is rustic but well maintained, with a wide porch wrapping around the front and picture windows opening to the glorious nature surrounding it.
"Home sweet home," Adrian mutters, killing the engine.
He grabs my bag before I can reach for it and leads the way to the front door. The porch steps creak under his weight as I follow close behind. He fumbles with his keys for a moment, then pushes the door open, motioning me inside with a slight bow that make my belly squeeze.
The moment I step inside, his presence envelops me.
The interior smells of pine and leather and something musky and wild.
The cabin is cozier than I expected, with an open concept living area dominated by a large stone fireplace.
A worn leather sofa faces the hearth, with a thick wool blanket in earthy tones draped over the back.
"Sorry for the mess," Adrian says, moving past me to deposit my bag at the foot of a wooden staircase. "I wasn't expecting company."
I glance around, noting that despite his apology, the place is fairly tidy. Everything is clean, and the furniture has a worn-in, warm look to it. The decor lining shelves and walls is simple and personal, with what I assume are family pictures and vintage paintings.
The space is masculine, but not aggressively so.
"Very alpha lumberjack chic," I quip. "I expected more dead fish and guns mounted on the walls."
A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth and it does strange things to my stomach. Strange things I have to force myself to ignore. The man is too beautiful for my own good.
"I keep the dead fish collection in my secret lair."
He shrugs out of his jacket, hanging it on a hook by the door, and I'm struck again by his sheer size. Without the uniform, in just a Henley and jeans, he looks less like the stern sheriff and more like a man who could bench-press a small car without breaking a sweat.
"Let me show you around." He gestures toward the kitchen, a compact space with butcher block counters and open shelving. "This is the kitchen. Please, feel free to help yourself to anything. Right here is the living room. Bathroom's down that hall. "
I follow him up the creaking stairs to the second floor. Two doors face each other across a narrow hallway.
"Guest room," he says, pointing to the door on the left. "My room." He nods to the right.
He hesitates, running a hand through his hair, making it stand up in unruly spikes. I have to refrain from reaching up and combing it down for him.
"You’re sleeping in my bed."
I blink at him. "Excuse me?"
"It’s because of the scent," he explains, his expression serious. "If we're going to convince anyone in my pack that we're bonded, you need to be wearing my scent. Sleeping in my bed is the quickest and best way to make that happen."
My cheeks heat at the implication, though I know he's being practical rather than suggestive.
"What about you?"
"I’ll take the guest room. But I'll give you something of mine to sleep in." He moves past me into his bedroom, returning a moment later with a flannel shirt. It's clean but clearly worn, the fabric soft from countless washings. "This should help."
Our fingers brush as I take it, and a jolt of something electric races up my arm. I pull back quickly, clutching the shirt against my chest.
"Thanks. I guess I'll go bathe in your pheromones now."
His lips twitch. "Bathroom's en suite."
I retreat into his bedroom, closing the door firmly behind me.
The room is surprisingly neat with a king-sized bed dominating the space, covered in a dark-blue quilt.
The furniture is all solid wood, sturdy and masculine.
A large window looks out into the forest, though all I can see now is darkness and my own reflection.
The en suite bathroom is small but functional.
I change quickly, sliding into his flannel shirt after folding my own clothes back into my bag.
The shirt hangs off my frame, the hem hitting mid-thigh and the sleeves extending well past my hands.
I roll them up, then catch sight of myself in the mirror.
My cheeks are flushed, my hair falling in wild curls around my face.
Without my usual armor of tailored clothes and perfect makeup, I look like a version of myself I swore I would never be again.
And wearing Adrian's shirt, surrounded by his scent, I look like I belong to him in a way that makes my stomach flip.
This is insane. I'm not the type of woman who rushes into anything, let alone a fake relationship with a werewolf sheriff who makes my pulse race. I'm organized, methodical, in control. Except right now, I don't feel in control at all.
I splash cold water on my face, staring at my reflection.
"Get it together, Julia," I mutter. "This is business, not romance."
When I emerge from the bathroom, Adrian is standing by the bedroom window, looking out into the darkness.
He's changed too—black cotton shirt, loose lounge pants that hang low on his hips. His feet are bare on the wooden floor. That strange thing in my belly quivers and turns into a small hurricane and I hope his werewolf senses don’t pick up my fastened heartbeat.
The man looks good enough to eat. Too bad he’s the big bad wolf and not the little red riding hood.
He turns at the sound of the door. His gaze rakes over my body, and something flickers across his face too quickly for me to read .
"Better?" he asks, voice rougher than before.
I tug at the hem of his shirt, suddenly aware of how much leg I'm showing.
"If by 'better' you mean drowning in werewolf essence , then yes."
"That's the idea. But it’s not enough in itself."
A smile ghosts across his lips. It’s the second time he almost smiles at me and my heart skips a beat. Or two.
He takes a step closer, and I fight the urge to step back. Or to step forward and climb him like a mountain. Both can be true and both are equally stupid.
Jeez. I need to get laid as soon as this is over. I’m being ridiculous.
"So," I say, aiming for casual but landing somewhere closer to breathless, "what's next in this scent-day spa treatment?"
"It's simple," he says, his voice dropping to a low rumble. "I just need to mark you with my scent. Nothing complicated."
"And how exactly does one do that? Roll around on the floor like a dog marking territory?"
“Nothing like that.” His eyes narrow slightly. “Each person has a scent that is uniquely theirs and there are places on your body that produce more of that scent than others.”
He pauses and I feel the burn spread all the way to the tips of my ears.
“For example, your pulse points and along your jaw.” He reaches up and touches my face, running a rough, calloused thumb from below my ear all the way to my chin. A shiver runs through me at the contact.
A shiver that shoots straight between my legs.
“And then there’s that spot, just behind your ears.” His thumb moves, his hand so big it cradles the entire side of my face as he slightly caresses the sensitive place below my hairline and behind my ear. “Then there’s the inside of your wrists.”
I’m transfixed as he reaches with his other hand to bring my wrist up to his face, then inhales deeply. For a moment just before he closes his eyes, his irises shine a vibrant, iridescent emerald green.
“It’s just wolf instincts. Very not sexual.”
Except the way he says it, with his voice dipping lower on the word ‘sexual,’ makes it sound exactly that. And that heat between my legs rises by several degrees in response.
"May I?" he asks, stepping closer.
I nod, not trusting my voice.
Adrian moves into my space with deliberate slowness, like he's approaching a skittish animal. He's so much larger than me that I have to tilt my head back to maintain eye contact. His heat radiates toward me, enveloping me before he even touches me.
"Try to relax," he murmurs.
Then his hands are cupping my face, steadying me as he leans down. His cheek brushes against mine, warm and slightly rough with stubble. He drags it slowly from my temple to my jaw, then back up.
The sensation sends another shiver down my spine and a raging inferno burns between my legs. I have the blazing thought that perhaps he can smell the arousal on me.
And it should mortify me. But it doesn’t. If anything, it makes me even hotter.
"You smell like cinnamon," he says, his breath warm against my ear. "And musk. So good. You smell so good, Julia."
“Are you a wolf or part bloodhound?” I ask, but my voice is shaky at best .
He chuckles, the sound vibrating through me where we touch.
His movements are slow and controlled, like he’s not touching me to fulfill a crazy pact we just made, but like I’m some sort of timid little animal.
He repeats the cheek to cheek, then leans even closer to rub his nose down to the sensitive spot just beneath my ear, then along the curve of my neck where my pulse thrums wildly beneath his touch.
I should be embarrassed by how my body responds, goosebumps rising on my skin, breath catching in my throat. But Adrian seems just as affected, his breathing becoming deeper, more deliberate, as though he's fighting for control.
His hand slides down to my waist, steadying me as he continues his ministrations. He brings my wrists up to his face and skims the tender skin along his mouth, his firm lips brushing the spot over and over. By then, I’m so flustered I have to bite my lip to stop from making a sound.
"Is that enough scent marking for now?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
Adrian pulls back just enough to look at me, his eyes now a luminous green in the dim light. The eyes of a beast.
"Almost." His gaze is nothing human now, the wolf fully on display. His irises shine and there’s a wildness there that I can’t pinpoint, yet an instinctive, primal part of me recognizes. “The last part is the most important. We have to exchange saliva.”
“You mean you’re going to kiss me?” My mind twirls like an untethered bird, and I can’t look away from his rugged, gorgeous face.
“Yes.” He nods. “Is that okay?”
I can’t speak. I can’t even formulate a thought.
But I can nod, so that’s what I do .
Then he kisses me.
It starts soft, his lips firm and warm against mine, massaging but not forcing.
I try to remember this is just a business transaction, but the moment his lips touch mine, something shifts, tilts, realigns inside my chest. His mouth is warm and surprisingly gentle, a contrast to the hard planes of his body now pressed against mine.
My hands find their way to his chest, fingers curling into the soft cotton of his shirt.
The kiss deepens, his hand sliding to the small of my back, drawing me closer until I'm flush against him. The press of an impressively large erection digs into the soft flesh of my stomach and a surge of wetness spills between my legs, soaking my panties.
He tastes like mint and something wild, something that makes my head spin and my heart race. A small sound escapes me, half sigh, half whimper, and his grip tightens in response.
This is a terrible idea. This is the worst idea I've ever had. This is…
This is incredible.
When we finally break apart, I'm breathless, my lips tingling, my body humming with want. Adrian stares down at me with those glowing green eyes, his expression a mixture of hunger and surprise, as though he's just as shocked by what happened as I am.
Reality crashes back like a bucket of cold water. This isn't real. This is a business arrangement, a convenience, nothing more. I can't afford to forget that, no matter how good his hands feel on my skin or how right his lips felt against mine.
Adrian blinks, the glow in his eyes fading as he steps back, dragging in a deep breath.
"Sorry," he says, his voice rough. "That wasn't part of the deal. "
I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly cold without his heat.
"Right. Just… scent. No feelings. Super professional."
He nods, running a hand through his hair again, making it stand up in a way that shouldn't be attractive but somehow is.
"I should go. Let you get some sleep."
"Yes. Sleep. Good idea."
Why am I not speaking in full sentences anymore? Oh, right. Superhot werewolf kissing must be to blame.
He backs toward the door, his eyes never leaving mine.
"Good night, Julia."
"Good night, Adrian."
The door closes behind him with a soft click, and I'm left alone in his room, wearing his shirt, surrounded by his scent, my lips still burning from his kiss.
Outside, a wolf howls in the distance, a sound that might be a warning or might be a call. Either way, I'm afraid I'm already answering it, whether I want to or not.