2. Lycan
Lycan
When I agreed to be her guard in Paris, I told myself Ava Vanderbilt was off-limits. She was too put together, too worthy, too…everything I wasn’t. I’d done that before, and I ruined it. I ruined everything I touched.
But fuck, the way her hips filled out her soft PJs made me want to throw her over my shoulder, toss her on the nearest available surface, bury my face in her cunt, and make her come all night. Fuck my moral code. Fuck society’s expectations. Fuck the entire world.
The full moon had been last night. I’d spent it as my furry alter ego, howling at the sky in the woods belonging to the Paris chapter of the RBMC and chasing deer until I couldn’t feel my paws.
I’d hoped the clawing, aching need inside me would go away once I let my inner wolf loose.
It hadn’t. No, if anything, it was worse today.
And standing there, so close I could taste the pheromones pouring off her, I understood why.
I shoved that deep down inside me, never to see the light of day again.
“You still have that scotch? Or did you drink it all already?” I teased, moving forward to fill the doorway.
She laughed and stepped aside to let me in. “I do have some self-control.”
Fuck, I hope not.
Once the door shut behind me, I tried to ignore the mouthwatering scent wafting off her. Coconut and mango and fresh female. Gods, she smelled delicious, and my wolf yipped inside my mind, desperate for a taste.
I’d always had a sixth sense about people like me, specifically when they’d be going into transition, and this one was close…
very close. In my world, shifters were born relatively human.
Their magic lay dormant until sometime in their late teens or twenties, when they went through a magical change, almost like a second puberty.
More dominant wolves could transition earlier, like our alpha, Kodiak, and the second, Orion, who both had transitioned at fifteen.
When it hit, our bodies pulsed with magic, altering our molecules to accommodate our new physical strain.
Ava’s sisters had gone through it: first Guin, then Sol, and most recently, Maeve.
The gorgeous woman in front of me would be next, but she didn’t know it.
Our world had been kept secret from humans for a reason.
If they found out, they’d treat us like science experiments, hunt us down for our pelts, and torture us to figure out a way to exploit us.
So even though I could see Ava’s train wreck coming, I couldn’t do anything until it hit.
Helping her had been part of the agreement. Kodiak, the president of the Royal Bastards MC, had made sure I’d be willing when it came to it.
At the time, I’d agreed because I thought there was no way on this great Earth I would become emotionally involved.
Three weeks in Europe had changed that, and now I debated whether to call in someone else.
The transition was intimate…personal. I’d give her my magic, my blood, my seed, and I didn’t know if I could go through with it and be the same detached wolf on the other side.
The thought of someone else doing it, however.
Well, I bit back a growl and forced myself to focus on the sway of her tight little ass as she walked to the kitchen on the right.
Her suite looked the same as mine, all clean lines and hand-stitched leather furniture.
I shoved my hands in my pockets and trailed after her.
“So, scotch then?” She pulled a crystal bottle from the bar cart and held it up, giving it a little shake.
“Sure,” I said. “Thank you.”
She poured two tumblers and held one out to me, which I took and sniffed before taking a sip. It was good, aged to perfection. Macallan. Forty-year. Probably $100,000 per bottle. But I wouldn’t expect anything less from the Vanderbilts. They spared no expense on their luxurious lifestyle.
She walked to the other side of the island and narrowed her eyes, tilting her head to the side like I was a puzzle she was trying to figure out.
“What?” I asked with a laugh.
“You’re difficult to read,” she said. “You don’t seem like the type of guy who would find himself drowning in corporate politics and attending galas with the masters of the universe.”
I tried not to be offended. I didn’t think she meant to insult me, only make an observation. I was just some poor cowboy biker from Montana. How could I have ended up here?
“How do I seem to you?” I took another sip and walked around the space to stand next to her, inhaling her feral aroma, the one dying to break through the surface.
My wolf practically salivated, and I had to shove him back into his cage.
He wanted to take her right then and there, push her down to the floor, rip off her ridiculously expensive sleepwear, and claim every inch of her.
Neither of us was ready for that. She didn’t even know what she was, and I…well, my heart still lingered for a man who had held it in his palm and squeezed until it stopped beating.
“Like an enigma,” she said. “I don’t know much about you. You’re a Royal Bastard. You helped my sister when she was stuck in that blizzard. But that’s about it.”
Truthfully, I didn’t know much about her, either.
Nothing more than what I could sense instinctively.
She ached for companionship. She didn’t trust easily and likely kept people at arm’s length because of it.
She worked hard, probably thought her productivity equated directly to her worthiness.
And as much as she put on a boss bitch mask to make these so-called “masters of the universe” bend to her will, I suspected she secretly wanted to let go of that control.
I could help her with that.
I could take it. I could make her feel safe. Loved.
I shook that thought away.
“Ask me anything,” I said. “What do you want to know?”
She took a drink of whiskey and hummed. “Tell me a secret, something no one else knows about you.”
I snorted. “It’ll take more than two fingers of scotch for that.”
“Oh?” That seemed to delight her. “What’s the price for Lycan’s deepest, darkest?”
I noticed a deck of playing cards on the table, likely there as decoration, but it made me think of times spent at the remote, tiny cabin on Bastard territory. With nothing to do and nowhere to go, poker became the favorite pastime.
“You play Texas Hold’em?” I nodded to the cards.
She grinned. “Of course. My siblings and I…well, we didn’t have many other friends. We spent a lot of time trying to outdo one another.”
“Up for a few rounds?” I asked.
“We’re playing for secrets?” Her eyes sparkled with mischief.
“Of course,” I said. “Nothing comes free.”
“Alright, then.” She lowered into a chair while I took the seat opposite her and shuffled through the deck, dealing out two cards to each of us. Then I put three face up in the middle of the table and sat back, eyeing my hand. Nothing yet, but that could change.
“Do you have siblings?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said. “Two. A twin sister, Ren, and a younger sister, Channing.”
“You’re a twin?” Her answering smile lit up her entire face.
“I am,” I said. “I’m younger by thirteen minutes.”
“Me too,” she said. “Exactly thirteen minutes.”
“Do you get along with your siblings?” I steered the conversation toward lighter things, saving my most burning questions for when I beat her.
Which I would. Playing poker was my specialty, and I could already read her.
Even if I didn’t have my extra wolf senses to catch the rush of tangy adrenaline from a good hand or the undercurrent of delicious tension between us, she widened her eyes when she saw something she wanted.
Or bit her lip when she was thinking too hard or trying to decipher her next move.
“Most of the time, yes,” she said. “Maeve is my best friend. Sol and Guin are closer to each other these days than they are to us, but I love them dearly. Galahad is a lot younger than us. He’s away at college most of the time.
Liam is…well, he’s been cowed by the shift in leadership at the company, which has made him distant. And Percy…”
“Fucking Percy,” I muttered. That fucker was the reason Sol had been driving drunk the night she crashed on Bastard territory.
He’d tried to marry her off to the president of the Bloody Scorpions MC in some twisted alliance contract.
When she’d returned mated to Orion, her rotten brother ran off to join the fucking vampires, even allowing himself to be turned.
“Fucking Percy, indeed,” she said.
I wasted the card on the top of the deck before flipping the next one over. Ace of spades. I now had a pair. Not necessarily a winning hand, but nothing to sneer at.
“What about you?” She peeked at her cards and took another drink of scotch.
“Ren and I are complete opposites,” I said. “Yin and yang. We fight as much as we get along.”
Of the two of us, Larentia (Ren to me since childhood) had always been the more serious one.
After our parents died, we raised Channing together.
But even I could admit, I wasn’t much of a parental figure.
I’d gotten into as much, if not more, trouble than Channing ever did, and often, it felt like Ren had to be the parent to us both.
This had caused a complicated relationship between us.
We were twins. We shared a connection few others could understand, made even more so by shifter magic.
She was a lingering presence inside my chest, one that never fully went away.
When we were little, our parents said we communicated in our own language, and sometimes, without even speaking.
Ava laughed. “Same here. Maeve is wild and carefree and reckless. And I’m…”
I drank while I waited for her to finish.
“Not.” Her features dropped like she was disappointed in herself for not living like her twin.