9. Val
Val
Harley nearly runs straight into me.
If I’d been moving any faster, he probably would have.
As it is, I have just enough time to stop short before his forehead smacks into my chest. The sudden movement sends a brutal cramp tearing through my left thigh, and I hiss before I can stop myself, one hand slapping hard against the brick wall beside us to keep my balance.
For half a second neither of us says anything.
The alley beside the club is dimly lit, washed in flashing red and blue from the ambulance and police vehicles pulling up out front. Music still pounds faintly from inside Scoundrels, muffled now by walls and distance, but my attention narrows completely onto the man standing inches away from me.
Harley’s breathing hard enough to lift his chest sharply beneath the silver shirt clinging to his skin. Sweat dampens strands of blond hair near his temples. His pupils are blown wide, green eyes bright and almost feverish as they lock onto mine.
And gods, he smells incredible.
Human, yes, but layered with heat and adrenaline and tequila and something sweeter underneath that instantly makes my mouth water.
My wolf stirs faintly beneath my ribs, the strongest response I’ve gotten from him since waking up in the infirmary, and the sensation nearly knocks the breath out of me.
Harley starts to speak. “Did you—”
Then he stops abruptly.
His gaze drops lower for one dangerous second.
Not to my face. To my chest. My mouth. Maybe lower.
The look he gives me after that is unmistakable.
Hungry.
My cock hardens so fast it aches.
Jesus fucking Christ.
Heat floods through my body in one violent rush, tightening my balls, pulling painfully at my nipples. The reaction is so intense I actually grip the wall harder to steady myself. I haven’t wanted anyone like this in years. Maybe ever. Not with this immediate, overwhelming certainty.
Harley steps backward suddenly and I still can’t move.
My brain seems to have stalled out completely while my body focuses entirely on the smaller man standing in front of me.
His lips are slightly swollen like he’s been biting them.
His cheeks are flushed from running or alcohol, probably both.
There’s fear under the sharpness of his expression, but there’s desire there too, enough that I can practically taste it in the air between us.
My wolf pulses again. It’s not a full response, he’s not close. But it’s enough that emotion crashes through me unexpectedly hard. And I feel it all.
Need.
Recognition.
Mine.
The last one hits so abruptly that I almost recoil from it internally.
Absolutely not. No fucking way!
There is no possible way my instincts should be reacting like this.
Harley is human. Traumatized. Furious at shifters in general and probably me specifically if he figures out what I am.
I’m injured, half blind, and assigned to protect him, not fantasize about shoving him against the nearest wall and tasting him until he forgets every other man alive.
Fucking fuck! What the hell is wrong with me?
Telling myself I’m already busted somehow loosens my tongue in the worst possible way.
“I saw you,” I blurt out. “We’re neighbors.”
The second the words leave my mouth, I want to slam my own head into the brick wall repeatedly.
Smooth, Val. Real fucking smooth.
Harley’s expression sharpens instantly. “Shut up.”
The snap in his voice should probably annoy me. Instead my dick jumps.
He tilts his head slightly, studying me harder now. Suspicion flickers across his face, followed immediately by that same dangerous heat again. It’s almost dizzying, how fast his expressions change. Like he’s fighting himself every second.
“Wait,” he says slowly. “What?”
I open my mouth to speak but nothing useful comes out.
“Come here,” Harley orders abruptly, stepping back again and pointing at the pavement in front of him. Then he glances toward the street and shakes his head sharply. “No, wait. The diner.”
He points across the road. At least I think he does until he suddenly changes direction entirely and bolts across the street toward another club instead.
I stare after him. His ass in those tight black pants should honestly be illegal.
“Seriously?” I mutter.
Harley glances back over his shoulder immediately, checking to see if I’m following. The look on his face is impatient enough to make me snort softly despite everything.
Then he disappears through the door of the second club.
I stay where I am for another moment, trying to collect my thoughts.
This has gone catastrophically wrong already.
Marcus told me to stay in the background unless circumstances forced otherwise. Instead Harley somehow zeroed in on me across a packed nightclub, nearly started a riot trying to get to me, and now apparently expects me to follow him somewhere quieter so we can talk.
Not exactly subtle surveillance anymore.
Part of me considers walking away anyway and that would probably be the smarter decision.
Harley clearly doesn’t realize I’m a shifter yet. If I leave now, maybe I can still salvage some distance later. Stay anonymous. Rebuild the assignment into something less personally complicated.
Then I remember the way he looked at me. The heat in those green eyes. And my body betrays me instantly by hardening even more.
“Ah, hell.”
Besides, Harley’s right about one thing even if he didn’t consciously mean it.
The second club offers privacy without isolation.
There’ll be people around. Bouncers nearby. Noise thick enough nobody can overhear us unless we’re practically breathing into each other’s mouths. Harley probably feels safer there than alone in some diner booth with a stranger who’s twice his size.
The thought softens something unexpectedly inside my chest.
He’s still thinking about safety.
Even now.
Especially now.
I push away from the wall carefully and start across the street at a slower pace than Harley managed. My leg protests immediately, pain streaking up toward my hip with every third step. By the time I reach the opposite curb, my limp’s more pronounced than I’d like.
Wonderful. There’s nothing sexier than a wounded wolf hobbling after a traumatized human like some desperate idiot in heat.
Still, I keep going. Because despite every warning bell in my head, despite Marcus’ orders and Nathan’s caution and the giant complicated mess this assignment is already becoming—
I want to see Harley again.