Wild Hunger

  She wouldn’t smile, Frankie promised herself. She wouldn’t. But she did. “My uncle. I’m meeting my uncle. And I would prefer it if you didn’t beat him up.” Like that, his face went all soft, and the menacing glint receded from his eyes.

  “There. Was that so hard?” Trick brushed his mouth over hers. “Don’t worry; your uncle’s safe from me.” Unless the human hurt her in any way, that was. Trick wouldn’t tolerate that. Releasing her, he stepped back. “Come on, time to eat.”

  Back inside the caves, Trick escorted her to the kitchen and seated her beside him at the long table. Frankie noticed that he didn’t look happy when Dominic sat opposite her, and he even tossed the blond enforcer a warning look that made him blink innocently.

  As she piled food on her plate, she glanced around the table. People were talking, laughing, teasing, and—in the case of Dexter—stuffing food in their pockets. Frankie hadn’t grown up in a house full of laughter. Meal times were stiff, dignified affairs; there would be light conversation, but no funny stories or mirth.

  Being around the pack was, well, odd. Not bad odd, but different. The way they all lived together, ate together, held different roles, constantly touched each other . . . Maybe it should have been off-putting, since it was so unfamiliar, but she liked it. At the same time, it was kind of sad. Like being on the outskirts of a secret club, having a peek of what went on inside, but only being an observer. Not that they ignored her or anything. No, they included her in their conversations and told her things about themselves—particularly Jaime, who also shared some funny stories from their childhood.

  One such story made Frankie’s head jerk back. “I would never eat a beetle.”

  “You didn’t eat it, but you did chew it. So did I. Then we both spat the mashed-up insects at the girl who happened to be Dante’s girlfriend at the time.”

  Dante winced. “Yeah, I remember that. She screamed like a banshee.” His eyes dropped to the oversize, odd-looking ginger cat that suddenly sprang onto his mate’s lap. He glared hard at the feline, who glared right back—like they were engaged in some kind of dominance battle. Then the cat hissed, and Dante snapped his teeth.

  Jaime cuddled the cat close to her. “Popeye, leave him alone. Frankie, this is Hunk.”

  Frankie’s brows lifted. “Really? He’s . . . cute.” Lie.

  “So, Frankie . . . ,” began Dominic, leaning forward. “What time do you have to be back in heaven?”

  “Oh, for God’s sake,” Lydia burst out. “No, Dominic, you will not do this to my niece.”

  He looked the image of innocence. “What?”

  “Don’t mind Dominic,” Taryn told Frankie. “He says cheesy lines to just about everyone.”

  “I mean it, Dominic,” Lydia said sternly. “Leave her alone.”

  He smiled. “Oh, I see, you’re jealous. Ah, Lydia, you know I adore you. I especially love those long legs. What time do they open?”

  Taryn sighed, raising a brow at Frankie. “See what I mean?”

  As a chuckling Dominic turned back to Frankie, Trick softly but firmly said, “No.”

  The enforcer frowned. “But—”

  “No,” Trick repeated. “Unless you’re curious about what your balls taste like.”

  Dominic exhaled in frustration. “You’re no fun.”

  “How do we know you’re telling the truth?” Greta asked Frankie, her mouth tight as she stared at her.

  Blinking, Frankie said, “I’m sorry?”

  “You say the Newmans lied to you all these years.” Greta lifted her chin in challenge. “But how do we know that’s true?”

  Frankie felt her brows lower. “Why would I lie about it?”

  “That’s what I’m wondering.”

  Trick draped his arm over the back of Frankie’s chair. “Greta, just don’t.”

  “It’s a valid question,” Greta insisted.

  “It’s you looking for reasons not to like or trust Frankie,” he corrected her.

  Makenna leaned into Frankie and said quietly, “Don’t take it personally. Greta doesn’t like unmated females around her precious boys. She’s very possessive of Trey, Dante, Tao, and the male enforcers. Doesn’t like any of their mates, other than Roni. She hates me most of all.” The last was said with pride.

  Greta’s focus snapped back to Frankie. “I never liked your grandparents. They’re hoity-toity. Think they’re better than everyone else, especially shifters. Your grandmother has a coldness about her. When I look at you, I see that same coldness.”

  Frankie licked her fork. “When I look at you, I see someone so ancient she probably has an autographed Bible.”

  Taryn burst out laughing, leaning into Trey, whose shoulders were shaking with silent laughter.

  Greta glowered at the Alpha female, griping, “Oh, you would find that amusing.” Greta sneered in disgust and marched out of the kitchen, her head held high.

  A little while later, Frankie thanked Grace for the meal and—since it seemed kind of rude that she was immediately leaving—apologized for having to eat and run. She politely refused Lydia’s offer for her to stay the night, but she did go and say goodbye to Iris before leaving.

  Trick walked her to the parking lot and over to her Audi. His fingers combed through her hair. “I’m glad you came, Frankie.”

  Surprisingly . . . “Yeah, so am I.”

  “Good.”

  She should have seen it coming. She’d just gotten so used to him touching her without taking it too far that she’d lowered her guard, so she hadn’t been braced for the hand that slid up the back of her neck, gripped a fistful of her hair, and held her head still as he pinned her against the car.

  Her heart leaped and her breath left her in a rush. He didn’t slam his mouth on hers as she’d expected. No, he skimmed his nose down her neck and breathed her in. His low growl reverberated up his chest and made her nipples bead.

  “Fucking love your scent, Frankie.”

  She gripped his arms as his teeth scraped over her pulse just hard enough to make her pussy clench. His tongue swirled over her skin to soothe the sting, and then he was kissing his way up her neck and over to her mouth. His tongue sank inside and lashed hers. He didn’t rush. He lingered. Explored. Savored. Devoured. Left her without any defenses.

  Feel-good chemicals swam through her brain and flooded her body. The whole thing was so delicious and intoxicating that her head spun and her pussy grew unbelievably wet.

  Sliding a hand under her thigh, Trick hooked her leg over his hip as he crushed her against the car, letting her feel how hard he was for her. Fuck, she tasted as sweet and tangy and perfect as she smelled. Her soft, incredibly responsive body curved into his, fitting against him just right.

  He possessively closed his hand over her breast, and her hard nipple brushed his palm. He felt her raspy moan all the way down to his balls. Growling into her mouth, he slanted his head, deepening the kiss, needing more. Knowing he’d never get enough.

  He’d never experienced this depth of raw need in his life. Never needed something so badly that he felt like he’d go insane without it. It was getting harder and harder to tone down his urge to claim her. He’d waited so damn long for her, needed her so fucking badly. But he wouldn’t take her right then.

  Trick pulled back, panting a little, and rubbed his nose against hers. “I will have you, Frankie. But it won’t be up against a car. Not the first time, anyway. I want to lick and savor every inch of you. Can’t do that here.”

  Striving to find some composure after that kiss that had all but destroyed her, Frankie licked her lower lip. The way he was looking at her, the way he spoke—so serious, so determined, so resolved—was unnerving as hell. To lighten the moment, she teased, “What if I don’t like casual sex?”

  He pursed his lips. “I suppose I could dress up. Put on my best shirt.”

  She chuckled. “You know what I mean.” She liked their back and forth. Everything in her life was so serious right then, and he was like a long
, cool glass of water—calming and refreshing. And he kissed like a fucking master.

  “Your laugh could stop traffic.” Raspy and gritty, like her voice, it never failed to make Trick’s cock twitch. And since he was currently pressed up against her, there was no way she hadn’t felt it. He kissed her once more. “I needed that.” Stepping back, he opened the car door for her. As she slipped inside, he said, “Stay safe, Frankie.”

  “You too.”

  He let the door swing shut and watched her drive away. It was hard. Painful, even. Every instinct he had badgered him to keep her close. His wolf lunged after her, but Trick kept a tight hold on him. It had to be this way. For now.

  Once his wolf settled, Trick returned to the caves and headed to the living area. Most of the pack were gathered there, and they all looked at him oddly as he entered.

  Dante arched a brow. “Something you want to tell us?”

  “You’ve already figured it out.” Trick had suspected they would. It wasn’t like he’d be able to hide his possessiveness from them—they knew him too well.

  “When did you figure it out?” asked Lydia.

  “Day one,” Trick replied.

  Marcus rubbed at his nape. “Well, this complicates things, but I’m happy for you.”

  The others nodded . . . except for Lydia, who sighed and began, “Trick—”

  “You don’t want anything to rock the boat and scare her off,” said Trick. “I know. Neither do I. But don’t ask me to keep my distance from her. I can’t do that. I won’t do that. She’s mine, and I’ve lived without her for long enough. I’ll hold off on telling her we’re mates, though it’s possible she’ll figure it out for herself.” His mate was smart. “She’s in tune with her wolf.”

  “In the long run,” began Taryn, “it will work to our advantage that you’re her true mate. It means she’ll move here at some point. But for now, well, if she knew the truth, I think it would make her feel pressured.”

  “Like I said, I’ll hold off on telling her. I want her here more than any of you do.”

  Lydia gave him a soft smile. “I’m glad you’re her mate, Trick. You’ll be there for her, look out for her. If the Newmans turn on her over this—and I’m pretty sure they will—she’s going to need whatever support she can get.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  The bar wasn’t far from Brad’s workplace, and they’d met there a few times in the past. Despite the dim lighting, Frankie spotted him easily enough—her being half shifter meant she could see well in the dark.

  She shouldered her way through the patrons, most of whom seemed to be focused on the football game that was playing on the wide-screen TV. Her wolf released a disgruntled growl at the scents of beer, cigarette smoke, and cologne.

  Reaching the long bar, Frankie slid onto the wooden stool beside Brad’s and said, “Hey.”

  He smiled. “There she is.” He kissed her cheek. “You look tired.”

  “It was a long day.” And she hadn’t slept well the night before, nervous about her trip to Phoenix Pack territory. “How are you?”

  “Fine, sweetheart. What are you drinking?”

  “Beer.”

  “No girly neon drinks for you. I like that.” He called to the bartender, who handed her a beer and replaced Brad’s empty one with a fresh bottle. Brad turned back to her. “You’ve been dodging my calls.”

  “I’ve genuinely been busy.” She took a swig of her beer before continuing. “Plus, you want to express an opinion that I’ve already heard. I don’t need to hear it again.”

  “I stand by what I said, Frankie. The wolves are not good for you, and you’re better off without them in your life. I know it, you know it.” He paused as dismayed shouts burst from a bunch of guys in the corner who were watching the game. “It’s best all around if you forget you ever received that e-mail and forget all about the wolves.”

  “I met with Lydia.”

  He stilled with his bottle halfway to his mouth. “What?”

  “I met with her.”

  He took a deep breath. “Okay, you were curious. I can understand that. If I found out I had relatives I’d never met, I’d be interested in meeting them too.”

  She was about to point out that she actually had met Lydia before, she just didn’t remember her, but he forged on.

  “If you had questions, you could have come to me. I would have told you whatever you wanted to know.”

  “And you’d have told me the truth?”

  He frowned, affronted by the doubtful note in her voice. “Of course.”

  “Like you told me the ‘truth’ about my parents dying in a car crash?”

  He looked away. “That was different. You know the full story now. I would have told you the rest.”

  “Like how they never wanted or tried to see me? You said I should turn my back on them like they turned their backs on me. But they didn’t do that, did they, Brad? You, Marcia, and Geoffrey blocked them all the way. As shit as it is, I can’t trust any of you to give me the truth. You twist the answers to suit your agenda—which is to keep me away from my paternal family.”

  “And they no doubt twist the truth to suit their agenda, which is to steal you away from us.”

  “They haven’t tried to do that.”

  “Give it time. They will.” Brad chugged down more of his beer. “Shifters are cunning like that.” He grabbed a handful of nuts from the complimentary bowl and shoved them in his mouth. “Deviousness is in their very nature.”

  “I’m half shifter,” she reminded him.

  He waved that away. “You’re not like them. They’re hostile and uncivilized and animalistic. I agree with Dad, packs aren’t much different from cults—hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if some of them are Satanic.”

  “I went to Phoenix Pack territory today.”

  “You did what?” He thumped his bottle down on the bar. “Frankie, what the fuck were you thinking?”

  Shocked at his outburst, she blinked. “Brad—”

  “One of theirs killed your mom, my sister. How can you let them into your life? I warned Caroline that mating with a shifter was a bad idea. I warned her that they weren’t like us, that she wouldn’t fit there. She wouldn’t listen. She got caught up in the fantasy of being surrounded by a pack and having someone completely devoted to her who’d never betray or harm her. Well, that was a load of shit, wasn’t it?”

  “Brad—”

  “Now you’re going to get caught up in that same fantasy? I thought you had more fucking sense.” He bowed his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. Finally he looked up. “I love you, Frankie. You’re more like a daughter to me than a niece. I respect that you’re a big girl who can make her own decisions. But this?” He shook his head. “I can’t condone this.”

  Well, that got her back up. “I’m not asking you to condone it,” she said stiffly. “I don’t need you to.”

  His jaw hardened. “Well, that puts me in my place, doesn’t it?”

  She sighed, tired. She didn’t want to hurt him, but she would not be made to feel that she—a grown woman—had to justify what she did and seek permission for her actions.

  “Doesn’t it matter to you that this will kill Marcia and Geoffrey?”

  “Brad, I’ve never been able to please them. I learned a long time ago that it was pointless to try. But you go run to them with tales of my treachery if you feel you have to. It’s not like they won’t find some other reason to complain about me.”

  He said nothing for a long moment. “I won’t tell them. I’m happy for them to never, ever know. I won’t breathe a word about it, but you have to promise me that you’ll stay away from those wolves. This has to be as far as it goes, Frankie.”

  Her wolf snarled at that. “Does it?” she asked evenly.

  “You don’t need them in your life,” he insisted, his face hard. “They’re no good for you. Now promise me you’ll stay away from them.”

  She didn’t. She couldn’t.

  He shook
his head with a sigh. “You’ve let me down here, Frankie. What’s more, you’ve let your mom down.” With that parting shot he shoved his beer aside and stalked out. So, yeah, she went home feeling pissed off.

  Her sleep was short and restless, so she didn’t wake up in the best mood. And since her hand was so stiff and sore from metal grinding that she was forced to take a break from sculpting, Frankie’s mood turned even more sour.

  As such, it really was not the best time for her to have lunch with Marcia and Geoffrey, especially since she might well get the cold shoulder, but it seemed cowardly to make excuses and stay home. So Frankie went along, braced for the cold shoulder. Oddly, they acted normal, as if their heated conversation with her had never occurred. Brad seemed to be no longer angry, because he was also his usual self.

  It should have been a relief. It wasn’t. It was irritating, because it felt like they’d dismissed the conversation as if it were unimportant. As if her pain were unimportant.

  They ate at the long table in the impressive dining room while classical music played low in the background. Talk was light and shallow—mostly tales about recent happenings at work. Of course, Frankie wasn’t classed as “employed” in their book, so it wasn’t a conversation she could really join.

  The lunch was nothing like her meal with the Phoenix Pack. No fun, no teasing, no laughing, no life to the occasion. And that was kind of sad.

  Once they’d eaten dessert and moved to the parlor, Brad pulled her aside and whispered, “I’m sorry I yelled at you last night. I was upset.”

  She gave a slight shrug. “Forget it.” But she wasn’t truly feeling so forgiving.

  “Really, I’m sorry. The last thing I want to do is upset my girl. I just want what’s best for you and—”

  “What are you two whispering about?” Marcia called out from the sofa.

  Brad blanked his expression and turned to her. “Nothing.”