His body tensed, though his hand remained gentle. “I don’t own you. But you’re mine to take care of. Not the same thing.”
“Yours to take care of?” She leaned closer, inhaling his scent on a deep breath. “What does that mean?”
“No, Carmen.” Fingers tightened around the back of her neck in a warning pressure. “This isn’t you. It’s just instinct telling you I’m the strongest wolf in the room.”
“You’re the only wolf in the room.” Except that wasn’t quite right, not entirely. “You can let me go. I’m not going to climb you.”
He didn’t, not right away, and a sudden surge of empathy drowned her in a tightly leashed attraction that managed to be predatory and proprietary at once. The rough tips of his fingers dragged across the back of her neck as he pulled slowly away. “Don’t worry. I won’t let you, sweetheart.”
But he wanted to. “You couldn’t stop me.” Her own reaction to his emotions drove the words, challenging and seductive. “Not because I’d take you anyway, but because you’d want me to.”
Alec laughed, low and hoarse, and leaned down until his lips were just over hers. “You underestimate my capacity for masochism. I’d let you ride me into the sunset if you were thinking straight, but you’re not. And I’ll stop you.”
A long chase, then, full of feints and strategy. It pleased her, even though it meant she’d end up spending the rest of the night alone and aching. “I’m going back to bed,” she whispered. “Not that hungry, after all. But I’ll cook breakfast in the morning.”
He straightened abruptly and took a step back. “Your brother had your roommate pack a bag for you. It’s by the front door. I got the feeling he’d be back for breakfast, so you might want to plan for that.”
“Consider me warned.” It was easier than she expected to move. The wild something simmering inside her had come to a conclusion, and Carmen had no choice but to reasonably agree.
If they wanted Alec, it would take time.
Chapter Six
Alec only realized he’d finally fallen asleep when the smell of breakfast cooking woke him.
The blurry numbers on the clock next to his bed told him it was six in the f**king morning, barely past dawn. Too early to crawl out of bed, but he couldn’t leave Carmen in the kitchen. Literally couldn’t, not with instinct riding him, demanding he check to make sure she was safe.
He jerked open drawers until he found fresh clothes. He got into the jeans and pulled on the T-shirt as he walked down the hall toward the kitchen, where he found Carmen standing in front of the open refrigerator, two eggs in one hand.
She looked up and smiled, a hint of a blush coloring her cheeks. “Scrambled, fried or other?”
Her little spaghetti-strap top bared miles of skin that made it hard to focus on the question. “Eggs? Cooked.”
“Obviously. Salmonella isn’t pretty.” She ducked back into the fridge and came up with a jar of salsa and an onion. “How about something vaguely resembling an omelet?”
The faintest twinge of embarrassment struck without warning. He should have asked Jackson to bring him groceries, something to put in the f**king fridge that made it look like he actually lived in the place. “Sounds good, but you don’t have to cook. I can—” What? Grill steaks at six in the morning?
She ignored him in favor of stacking things in her arms. “I told you last night I’d make breakfast.”
Which just went to show how badly she’d scrambled his brain. “You must be starving. I’ll make sure we have some decent food here later.”
Carmen only laughed. “You only say that because you don’t know what I can do with a skillet. Sit and watch.”
She seemed in her element, so Alec obeyed with an amused smile, sliding onto one of the stools at the counter. “So you’re a doctor, a psychic, and you can cook.”
“Running down the list of things you know about me?”
If she had any idea just how much he knew about her, she’d go for the closest weapon. “Just noting that you’re multitalented.”
“I can also roller skate.” She nudged the frying bacon with a spatula and began to peel and slice the onion. “I’m a Leo, and no one’s ever beaten me at five-card draw. What about you? All I know is that you were in the army with Franklin, and you apparently have a thing for damsels in distress.”
The damn woman was flirting with him.
He liked it.
They were so far past screwed that he gave in and laughed. “Yeah, you could say that. Or you could say I have a thing for trouble, because you’re sure as hell that, sweetheart.”
“Me? I’m harmless. At least…..” Her smile faded a little. “Until I start howling at the moon, I guess.”
He moved before he realized it, making it halfway across the kitchen before pulling himself up short. His fingers itched with the need to touch her, soft or soothing or anything that would head off the fear gathering inside her. “It’ll be all right. Either way, it will.”
She went rigid. “I’m making breakfast. I don’t feel that different. If I’d changed that much, would I be this calm already? It doesn’t make sense.”
It had always been different for everyone…..but he’d never felt feral power curled inside someone when the change hadn’t taken. “Not a lot of it makes sense, but your brother’s going to find out what happened and then Jackson will figure out how to fix it.”
“Okay.” Her hand trembled, and she set the knife on the cutting board. “Salsa in the omelets and bacon on the side. How does that sound?”
Her fear sliced at his nerves. Stepping up behind her, he slid one arm around her waist and pressed his lips to her hair. “Sounds perfect.”
Carmen shuddered and gripped his arm, her nails digging into his skin. “You may be a masochist, but I’m not. If I’m not allowed to climb you, then you shouldn’t hold me like this.”
A dangerous line to walk. He had to be strong enough to reassure the beast inside her without being forceful enough to terrify the woman. “Is that what your instincts are telling you to do? Fuck me?”
She stomped on his foot, which would have hurt if she’d been wearing shoes. “Maybe it has nothing to do with instinct. Maybe I just want to f**k you.”
Instinct or not, his dick hardened at the words, and he slid his hand up to curl in her hair, fisting his fingers in the disheveled strands just hard enough to let her feel it. “You telling me this isn’t the magic? That a sweet little empath like you wants to get rough before she gets down and dirty?”
Her back arched. The movement rubbed her ass against him—and pulled her hair even more. Carmen hissed in a breath. “Is that what’s tripping you up? Wolves aren’t the only ones who like it hard.”
Sweet Jesus.
Alec steeled his voice, made it a command wreathed in a growl. “You can f**k us both into next month with whips and chains, if that gets you hot. After I know you’re the only one driving.”
She growled right back. “Then why are you still on me?”
Because he couldn’t stop himself. Alec swore and released her abruptly, reeling back until he bumped into the counter behind him. “Better?”
“No.” The bacon had started to smoke. She moved the skillet off the eye and turned to him, her jaw set in anger. “If you don’t want me getting turned on or thinking about sex, don’t put your arms around me and talk about magic and rough, dirty f**king.”
Alec closed his eyes. “Wasn’t planning on it. Things sure do seem to spiral into depravity when we start talking.”
“Then maybe I shouldn’t be here.”
Maybe she shouldn’t. Except she could sprout fur in the next moment and tear up a crowded New Orleans street. “Franklin could keep an eye on you. Or your brother. Or I’ll sit over here and talk about the weather while you make eggs.”
After a moment, she retrieved an egg and cracked it into a bowl. “If you value your virtue,” she warned, but a little of the sparkle had returned to her eyes.
That’s it. Nice and easy. “Awful warm for April, lately.”
“You don’t actually have to limit yourself to discussions of seasonal temperatures, Alec.”
He cast about for another safe topic. “Do you like working with Franklin?”
“Very much.” She lifted one shoulder in a tiny shrug. “I believe in what he’s doing. People should always have a safe place.”
“I agree. I keep hoping that’s what we can make New Orleans, but so far no one has the power to keep all the potential threats at bay.”
Carmen tilted her head and studied him. “Franklin said the Southeast council doesn’t have much to do with things here.”
Interesting that her information came from Franklin even though her uncle was on the damn council. “Not usually, but that doesn’t mean they’re not quick enough to step in if they feel like it.”
“And you resent that.” It wasn’t a question, and he wasn’t sure he felt comfortable with how easily she’d fallen into reading him. Not that he wasn’t used to it—Kat usually didn’t even realize she was picking up stray emotions and asking too-pointed questions—but it was different when those questions came from a wide-eyed kid.
There was nothing wide-eyed or kid-like about the woman standing in his kitchen, and her understanding tread dangerously close to intimacy. It made it hard to keep his voice level, caught as he was between the urge to claim and the urge to run like hell. “I guess.”
“I don’t blame you.” She fell silent, focusing on the task at hand.
The urge to screw was nothing new. He liked sex and didn’t see any need to go without when plenty of women were willing to take him home. Casual f**king with no messy complications and no one to be left at home, cranky that he was too damn busy to give a woman the attention she deserved.