She’d always been drawn to Braden, even from the first time he’d come into her candle shop and grilled her about her witchiness. He was a six-five pile of muscle and bone with shoulders so broad she’d recently tried to compute the size of them. That had been two weeks ago. He’d caught her looking and had asked if he had something on his shirt. He’d made a big pretense of wiping non-existent things off his sleeves.
He was being absurd. “Don’t pretend women aren’t checking you out all the time. Why would I be any different?”
His smile had remained but something grew more serious than she’d expected in the gorgeous green shards of his eyes. “I don’t care about other women, Maeve. But I confess I like that you’re looking.”
Something about the way he was with her, direct and no-nonsense, had always appealed to her. She had a strong sense he respected her even if he disliked witches generally.
She felt lightheaded as she formed the thought, I want him.
She passed through her living room and crossed the stone floor to the spiral staircase leading to ground level. She had a kitchen in her apartment, but she rarely cooked. She preferred to take her meals with the Landing residents in the communal dining room.
She ascended the stone staircase to the right of her living space and took deep breaths the entire way.
Once on the ground floor, she headed down the long central corridor that led away from the emergency center and toward the hub of the facility. She could hear the chatter of those she’d rescued over the past few months. They were in the large central living space that was forty feet deep and almost as wide. From outside, she could hear the hum and buzz of construction equipment. She was building a large complex that would contain a hundred apartments, plus a gym, a pool, and a café.
One of her rescues was an architect who’d drawn up the plans. Another, a general contractor. A third had experience managing large apartment buildings. Most of the money for the project had been donated by several of her rescues, men and women of means who’d gone through their alter process but who didn’t have the natural physical force to battle the more powerful of their individual species.
She loved her people and loved even more how those who stayed at the Landing worked hard to be part of the community and to give back however they could.
The biggest problem she faced was helping her rescues re-integrate back into their various home territories. Because of the violent drug culture prominent in Five Bridges, most people who’d been given a second chance wanted to stay at the Landing. They liked what she’d built and they felt safe. She didn’t have the heart to kick anyone out. So, she was adding onto her complex and would have a hundred apartments available in the next few weeks.
She made her way to the kitchens and consulted with the chef. She was a petite Mexican woman who made a knock-out guacamole and anything else she put her hands to.
“Let me guess,” Carmen said, smiling. “You need a twenty-four ounce, bone-in ribeye, rare, or would that be blood rare?”
Maeve shrugged. “He’s a wolf.”
“Blood rare it is.”
“Did Alfonso tell you?”
“That gossipy, freakishly tall man? Of course, he did. The whole facility is buzzing. No one can believe Officer Braden survived.” Her assistant-chef drew a fat steak from the fridge and brought it to her. She’d already heated up the grill so she tossed it on.
Maeve heard the sizzle and her own stomach rumbled.
Carmen turned to her. “You want a steak, too? You should eat. You’re still very pale, even for a witch.”
“Thank you, yes.”
Carmen’s assistant brought back a similar, though smaller steak and laid it on the grill as well. She then spoke a quick string of Spanish words. Maeve knew enough of the language to predict the assistant would grab lettuce, tomatoes and cucumbers next, which he did. A salad sounded wonderful, too.
“Ranch, please.”
Carmen nodded. She was a vampire that had been dumped in the Graveyard almost a year ago by her drug-running boss. He’d been high on blood flame and mistook her for someone else. He’d attacked her viciously with a knife. No one had been able to talk him down and he’d cut and beat her to the point of death, not unlike Braden’s condition.
It was heard he’d felt remorse and had hunted for Carmen’s remains. When he couldn’t find them, he’d put out a sizable reward for her. Understandably, Carmen had no desire to return to him. Maeve had agreed to a name change to keep her identity secure and she’d been cooking for the Landing ever since. As far as Maeve was concerned, she could stay with her forever.
“We’re glad Officer Braden survived. He’s a good man. Everyone is talking about him. Do you know he got rid of one of the major drug-dealers in Savage? It was about five years ago after he became alpha of one of the twelve main packs. His efforts brought the crime rate down in that territory, at least for a while. The serum brings out the worst in a lot of people.” She clucked her tongue and shook her head.
Maeve didn’t want to hear more good things about Braden. She was already feeling an increased attraction to the man. She felt downright itchy inside her skin. But how could any kind of involvement with a wolf end well?
She’d spoken with him at least twice a week for the past year. He’d make appointments to meet her at her candle shop ostensibly to make further inquiries into his investigation. After a while, she made sandwiches for him, asked him about his work as a Border Patrol officer, and listened to his stories of Savage during his early days. Neither talked much about life before the alter world.
She’d come to think of him as a friend, and oddly enough, wolf though he was, she trusted him.
When Carmen loaded a large tray with both steaks, some grilled mushrooms and onions and two bowls full of salad, Maeve carried it back to her apartment.
The tray was heavy, but she’d gained some muscle carting all kinds of people out of the Graveyard. She even worked out in the Landing gym every other night.
Before she even reached the bedroom, Braden called out, “Damn, that smells good.” His wolf’s nose again.
She crossed the threshold and saw he was now sitting up. He looked better, too. He had some color in his face. Her infuser, and its scrap of emerald flame, appeared to be working.
She smiled. “I can sense you’d leap into the air just to get to this if you could.”
He dipped his chin in quick jerks. Her witchiness could tell he was almost panicky in his need for a solid chunk of meat.
She made quick work of setting up the hospital swing-arm table then set his food in front of him. “Don’t be polite.”
He grunted as he started to cut up his steak. He seemed impatient so she gave him a nudge. “Pick it up with your hands.”
He stared at her hard for a moment. His human politeness vied with his wolf need.
She lifted both hands. “Hey, don’t hold back on my account I want you well, not polite right now. Got it?” She couldn’t help but smile.
He shrugged. “Aw, to hell with it.” He grabbed the steak-bone at one end and a lot of rare meat at the other.
He kept groaning as he ate and it wasn’t long before his color returned to normal. She’d been around a few shifters, so she wasn’t surprised by the grunts and huffs, as though the wolf in him was trying to create a whole new string of vocalizations through his human voice.
She sat nearby and worked on her own meal, but it was difficult to keep from staring at him. His chest was bare and this new drive she experienced had amplified her attraction to him about ten-fold.
But Maeve had no interest in engaging with any man, gorgeous or not, wolf or not. When her husband had died at Veyda’s orders, she’d felt something deep in her heart break in two. She’d already said good-bye to him and to their old, beautiful, human life together. But his death had made her alter life almost unbearable. Only her nightly jaunts into the Graveyard to help others had kept her sane.
The thought of getting involve
d with Braden, made her cringe. Her heart was just too vulnerable for the present. She took another bite of her steak and looked at her plate.
Of course, involvement was a completely relative term.
She stole a glance beneath her lashes at his bare chest and broad shoulders. Her gaze lingered on the way his arm flexed and unflexed as he tore bites from the steak. Certain parts of her warmed up.
She’d never been with a man like Braden. He had so much bulked-up muscle, he looked like he could lift a car with one hand. He had no hair on his chest which gave her a clear view of his thick pecs and sculpted abs.
She wondered suddenly what his wolf looked like.
Instinctively, her hand went to the nape of her neck. She drew a deep breath and stroked her skin in the exact spots she suspected his fangs would land to hold her in place.
Her nostrils flared. Well above the aroma of the ribeye, she caught a sudden flow of Madagascar vanilla. It hit her so hard she gasped. She knew she’d been caught staring again.
Her gaze flew to his.
He’d stopped eating and was watching her in a way she could only describe as predatory. His extraordinary green eyes glimmered and showed golden rings. His lips pulled back and he bared his teeth. His cheeks had elongated slightly. She could see the beginnings of dark wolf-fur.
Oh, sweet Mother of God, what she felt in this moment. It was as much a pull on her soul as it was a driving force through her body. She wanted Braden and she wanted to feel his teeth on her neck.
What are you thinking about? His voice, even inside her head, had dropped at least one octave and held a resonance that stroked the insides of her thighs. He settled the remnants of his steak on his plate.
She saw no reason not to tell him. “Your shoulders. Your chest. Wondering what you looked like as a wolf and whether your fangs would hurt if you used them on me.”
He took a few deep breaths but his nostrils worked like bellows. Slowly, his features returned to human-normal. “This wouldn’t be smart, Maeve, not for either of us.”
She agreed. “Not on any level.”
He heaved a sigh. “Thanks for the food.” He hadn’t touched his salad but she wasn’t surprised. He’d eaten what he’d needed most.
He wiped his hands on the napkin. She moved the tray away as he settled back into the pillows.
“Do you want me to go? Would that be easier?”
“No. Please stay. We don’t have to act on any of this and I like your company. I always have.”
“Then I’ll stay.”
“I’m beat, though.”
“Sleep if you can.” She’d seen the recovery process of the near-dead many times. Sleep, food, maybe a shower, more sleep.
His eyes closed shortly afterward.
She picked up her fork and worked on her salad and her steak.
As he started to doze, she shifted her focus away from him and began cataloguing all the projects that needed tending. She never went out into the Graveyard until after midnight and it was only nine in the evening. She needed to meet with the architect and the builder to see how the apartments were progressing, and she had to get busy and create at least two dozen new candles for her shop.
More than anything, she needed to work on a spell that would allow her to take someone with her to the cell side of Veyda’s compound.
As she ate more of her meal, she reviewed all the different combinations of potions and spells she’d put together to improve her ability to disarm Veyda’s security spell. But each time, her internal witchness told her she’d failed to create the right formula.
She didn’t intend to stop trying. That wasn’t in her nature. At all.
If she could break through in a significant way, she’d ask Braden, or if not him then Greg, to lend a hand. Greg was the top wolf among the shifters who lived at the Landing. She had no doubt he and his pack would be game to accompany her, maybe blow up a wall if needed to save an abducted witch.
By the time she’d mulled over her mental to-do list and finished her steak and salad, Braden was snoring.
She chuckled as she pulled back the table and organized their shared tray.
As she was drawing the table back, however, Braden snorted suddenly and woke himself up. By a habit formed over four days, she quickly grabbed his hand in both of hers and held on. His panicky gaze met hers.
“I dreamed of her again.”
“Laura?”
He nodded. His eyes grew pinched. She wished he didn’t smell so good.
“Did she give you any wisdom?”
He chuckled quietly. “Just told me not to be stupid. She said that often when she was alive.”
“I take it you’re a slow-learner.”
His shoulders started to relax. “I like to think I’m tenacious.”
“Oh, stupid and stubborn. That’s a great combination.”
He glanced at her hands covering his. “You did that a lot, didn’t you, while I was unconscious?”
“It helped calm you down.” She’d hugged him a lot as well, especially during the day when she slept beside him. But she didn’t tell him that. “You okay now? You’d drifted off then woke yourself up.”
“I’m okay.”
She released his hand. “Good. I have a few errands I need to run but I will be back. In the meantime, Alfonso will look in on you. You can also just shout. All the shifters at the Landing will be able to hear you.”
“The Landing. Hard Landing. Right. Alfonso shared a few things with me. But Maeve, I had no idea you’d created a full-blown rescue mission.”
She’d never told Braden the extent of her operation. She figured the less anyone knew, including a Border Patrol, the safer her people would be. She said so.
He nodded, a deep frown between his brows. “Okay. I get it. I can understand your reasoning. But I still wish you’d told me. I know how to keep a secret.”
She tilted her head. “I don’t think I appreciated until now how much your friendship has meant to me. I see now I should have told you and I wish I’d invited you in a long time ago to see what we’ve got going on here.”
Braden huffed a sigh. “On the other hand, I understand your need for secrecy, especially in Elegance.”
He was right about that. Their witch and warlock territory was all about secrecy and keeping things hidden.
“So, how many shifters…forget that. How many people do you have living here?”
“Last count, a hundred-and-fifty-three.”
“All from the Graveyard?” His brows rose.
She nodded “It’s what I do.”
“Why do you go out there yourself when it sounds like a few wolves might be a better fit for the job?”
She took it as a challenge and shoved the sleeve of her t-shirt up to her shoulder. She flexed her arm for him. “I like the work.”
His brows rose and his lips curved. “Damn, woman, you’ve got some guns.”
“Well, how the hell do you think I was able to move you? You’re not exactly a tiny thing.”
“No. I’m not.” Braden smiled and her heart quivered. His green eyes about killed her anyway. But combined with his smile? Deadly.
She drew in a deep breath and took a step back. She held up both hands. “You rest. Heal yourself. I’ll be back soon.”
He narrowed his eyes and damn if he didn’t slowly lift his bare arms and lace his hands behind his head. Now, talk about ‘guns’. “You’re not playing fair, Braden.”
“I’m not playing at all. Are you?” But his lips quirked.
“Huh.” She huffed a snort, then turned on her heel.
She felt pretty certain if she didn’t leave, she might just crawl into bed and see what else he could flex.
Before she left, however, Sheba crawled out from under the bed and trailed along beside her.
~ ~ ~
Braden once more had his eyes glued to her ass. A soft welcoming vibration traveled through his veins then landed in his lap. His hand slid beneath the sheets and he
gave his arousal one long stroke.
He liked this redhead, maybe more than he was willing to admit. Besides the fact she’d saved his life, she wasn’t like any woman he’d ever known. His wolf approved of her straightforward manner and the male part of him thought her body rocked. Her snug t-shirt accentuated her full breasts and her jeans looked painted on. He could easily see her naked in his head.
He made a simple decision. Before he left the Landing, he would bed Maeve. By his best guess, based on the almost tangible drifts of her womanly lemon-lavender scent, she’d welcome his attentions.
In the meantime, he had some strength to renew.
He closed his eyes and before he knew it, he fell asleep.
When he awoke, he felt better than he had in a long time. He sat up, then slid his legs over the side of the bed. He checked his wolf’s time sensor. He’d slept another eight hours. Nothing like a blood-rare steak to restore him to health. In April, in Arizona, it was maybe an hour or two before dawn.
He stood up and stretched. He was fully naked and alone. His shifter nose caught the scent of bath wipes coming off his skin. He didn’t dare lift his arm to check his odor. He knew what he’d find.
Recalling the small table and fresh flowers, he quickly rounded the bed. Nothing sounded better right now than hot water hitting his body hard.
Once inside the bathroom, he saw that one of his long-sleeved t-shirts, boxers and jeans sat folded up on the sink. His boots and a pair of sock were tucked under a vanity area below the counter.
A note offered an explanation. ‘A couple of my shifters knew where you were staying and fetched some things for you. Enjoy your shower. M.’
For a moment, he forgot everything except what he owed this woman. She’d cared for him for four days and even held his hands when he was delirious.
His throat tightened. She’d gone the distance. That’s who this woman was, would always be. He trusted her and he owed her a debt. He’d been married to Laura for years before they’d both come to Five Bridges. He knew what a relationship took and that setting out fresh clothes was no small thing. It told him a lot about Maeve.