Tempest #2
She crawled around the floor, gathering the maps and papers that they had shoved off the desk in the heat of passion.
Tempest quickly pushed herself up, her muscles aching in a way that was both punishing and exhilarating.
She tossed the scattered papers on her desk and stared at them.
They were once so important, but now seemed trivial.
The threat of the Capitol Wolves and Mayor Grant, however, was not trivial, and she needed to remember that.
Their attack was a cold, hard reality that demanded her attention, a stark contrast to the fiery intimacy she had just experienced.
Tempest knew that she needed to get her head on straight, and thinking about Howler and the way that he took her on her desk wasn’t the way to do that.
Her first task was to reassert control, both over herself and her club.
She decided that a shower would help her do just that.
She needed to scrub away the physical evidence of their encounter, but the memory, the taste of him, would remain.
Tempest walked into the private bathroom that was in her office and quickly stripped and showered.
When she emerged from the bathroom, dressed in fresh leather, her expression was a mask of cool determination.
She took a deep breath, trying to convince herself that she was ready to face her pack, but knowing deep down that wasn’t the truth.
Chris, her second in command, was waiting for her in the common area, her arms crossed over her chest, and her gaze sharply assessing Tempest. “You were with him, weren’t you?” she stated, not really asking. There was no judgment, only a deep concern etched on her face.
Tempest met her gaze, refusing to flinch. “We were discussing strategy.” It was a half-truth, a flimsy shield against the raw honesty of their bond; her loyal VP knew her too well.
“Strategy that involved a lot of grunting and, um, desk-shaking?” Chris’s tone was dry, but her eyes held a flicker of understanding. “Tempest, I get it. He’s a powerful male. But we still don’t know if we can trust him or his pack. And now, he’s stirring things up.”
“He’s a necessary evil right now, Christmas,” Tempest admitted, using her VP’s full name.
She knew that she hated being called Christmas, but Tempest couldn’t seem to help herself.
She ran a hand through her damp hair, choosing her words carefully.
“His information on the Capitol Wolves and Mayor Grant is solid. And his fighting skills are impeccable. I saw them at the warehouse, and I can tell you that we need him.”
“Need him in the war, or need him in your bed?” Chris challenged gently.
“There’s a difference, Prez. And the club is noticing how different you are around him.
Some of the younger ones are fascinated with everything that you do, but the older members are not.
Seeing you with Howler has made them wary.
They remember why we formed this club, wanting to separate ourselves from the male wolf shifters who tried to control our every move. ”
Chris’s words were a cold splash of reality. Tempest had founded the Dark Chaos MC to escape the very patriarchal dominance that Howler, for all his undeniable allure, represented. Her personal desires could not, would not, compromise the safety and principles of her pack.
“I’ve got things under control, Chris,” she insisted.
She could tell that her VP didn’t believe her, and she wasn’t sure if she even believed herself.
When she was with Howler, she couldn’t seem to even remember her own name.
He made her want things that she never wanted from any other man, but she wasn’t about to tell Chris that bit of information.
For now, she needed her second in command to believe that she had her libido under control, even if it wasn’t the truth.
She needed Chris and the rest of her pack to fall in line and follow her lead.
Otherwise, this war would be over before it even began.
“Whatever you say, Prez,” Chris mumbled.
“You should get some shut-eye. Tomorrow will be here before you know it.” She watched as Christmas walked upstairs to the apartments where the other women were staying for the time being.
Tempest thought that it would be safe for them all to stay close to the clubhouse and to each other until she could get a better handle on what the Capital Wolves’ next move was going to be.
It was the right move to keep her pack safe, but right now, all she wanted to do was ride her bike back to her place and fall into her own bed—alone.
She had a lot of thinking to do, and all of it had to do with one sexy as sin alpha who did crazy things to her heart—and body.
Howler showed up early the next morning, his presence a quiet ripple through the clubhouse.
She could feel the shift in her pack as soon as they smelled his scent.
The other women had picked up on everything that had happened between her and Howler, and no amount of showers to hide his scent would erase that fact.
He moved with easy confidence; his gaze meeting Tempest’s across the bustling garage. There was a knowing glint in his eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the intimacy they had shared. It was a challenge to her carefully constructed facade.
He approached her, a wrench in his hand, his expression neutral. “I’ve been scouting the perimeter. The Capitol Wolves are increasing their patrols on the east side. They’re testing your defenses and looking for weaknesses in your pack.”
Tempest nodded, her mind shifting gears, forcing herself to focus on the threat.
“They won’t find any weaknesses, but we’ll double the night patrols.
Chris and Moon, you’re with me.” She deliberately excluded Howler, a subtle assertion of her authority.
It was a reminder of her boundaries, and she was setting them with Howler.
From the look on his face, he didn’t like it one bit.
Howler’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, but he didn’t argue.
He simply watched her, his eyes holding a complex mix of respect, frustration, and a possessive glint that sent a shiver down her spine.
He seemed to understand her need for control, but he’d also understand the primal forces at play between them.
“Are you sure that you don’t want to take any of my guys?” Howler asked.
“I’m sure,” she said, turning to face him, noting the hurt in his eyes.
That was the last thing that she wanted, but if she gave in to him now, she might never regain the upper hand with Howler.
It was time that she showed him and her pack that she wasn’t playing a game.
This war was real, and it was coming for all of them, whether they were ready or not.
And she needed to be ready because later that night, under the cover of Baltimore’s shadows, Tempest led her patrol into the city streets.
The city was alive with its own nocturnal symphony of distant sirens, the rumble of traffic, and the whispers of the wind through the downtown alleyways.
Her senses needed to be on high alert, and her wolf needed to be ready to tackle any threats.
She felt Howler’s absence. There was a strange void where his powerful presence usually was, but not having him tag along gave her time to think.
It also helped her to keep her head clear in case danger showed up.
Tempest knew that the line between personal and professional was blurring.
Howler was more than just an ally; he was a catalyst, forcing her to confront not only an external enemy but also the wild, untamed desires of her own heart.
The fire between them had been lit, and it threatened to consume everything in its path, including her carefully guarded independence—and she couldn’t allow that, no matter how badly she wanted him.