Page 13 of Enemy Wolf

I closed the camera feed and pulled up some Howling Death financial reports, eager to get lost in something that wasn’t Shiloh’s scent. Or the intensity of her eyes when she was pissed off. Or the fact that she laughed and joked with people who weren’t me.

You see? my wolf taunted. She is ours, and we are hers.

“Shut up,” I grumbled.

Time did fly by once I was able to immerse myself in formulas and number-crunching, then a sharp knock at my door made everything stop. “What?” I growled, spinning in my office chair.

The door opened and Ruse, Howling Death’s VP and second in command to the alpha, stuck his head in. “Uh, the owner of Stout & Spirit is here to see you.” He emphasized that last word like he found it unbelievable that anyone would come see me. And honestly, he was right.

“Shiloh?” I asked dumbly while my wolf pranced happily under my skin.

The other wolf’s eyebrows went up. “Oh wow, you even know her name. Really getting out there, huh, Orson?”

“Fuck off, Ruse.” I stood up and slid past him, ignoring his self-amused chuckle.

He was a cocky asshole who sniffed Derric’s ass too much, but then again, that was probably why he made a good second. What did I know? It wasn’t like I had a great sense of character judgment. I had a low-level dislike of just about everyone.

I tried not to inhale too hard as I came down the stairs. Shiloh was waiting in the great room below, and it was like her scent rose up to me, seeking me out. My wolf was so damn happy—no, ecstatic—that she came to see us. His tail whipped back and forth so damn hard, and he wouldn’t stop vocalizing, making all kinds of yips and soft barks to greet our mate.

I froze in mid-step, the weight of that thought hitting me like a bowling ball to the gut. Mate? Oh, hell no, absolutely not.

You finally see it, my wolf gloated.

Not a chance, furball. Not a snowman’s chance in hell.

“Orson?”

Shiloh’s voice cut through my panicked mental arguing and somehow piled on more stress to my senses. She could see me. She was right there.

She came to see me.

“Sorry, I…just remembered something I have to do.” Like shove my head in the ground and surgically extract my wolf from my soul. I managed to finish coming down the stairs and stopped in front of her. “You wanted to see me?”

If she was weirded out by my episode on the stairs, she didn’t show it. “Yeah, you left this at the bar last night, and I just wanted to return it to you.” She held out a white envelope, which I knew was filled with the cash I’d left her.

“Keep it,” I said, lifting my palm. “I left it for you. For the drink.”

“I can’t accept this, it’s too much.” Shiloh took a step forward, and I got a fresh hit of citrus and spice.

“Well, now I know for next time.” I took a step back, fighting every urge to lean in and inhale deeply. “I don’t go out much, so I wasn’t sure how much was appropriate to leave.”

“Next time, huh?”

Maybe it was my imagination, but I swore the corner of her mouth ticked up when she said that. She came closer again, and every time her scent filled my nose, I had to hold back this surging want that overrode my system. I didn’t just want to scent her, I was desperate to know if her skin felt as soft as it looked. Would she have that same citrus sweetness between her legs?

Holy fucking moon, I was in trouble.

“You don’t have to wait until next time.”

Oh no? So I can take you upstairs and taste every sweet inch of you right now?

My teeth ground hard in my jaw. I did not have thoughts like this, especially about women I didn’t even know.

“I’m here now so you don’t have to learn such an expensive lesson,” she continued saying, and I only distantly realized she was still talking about the money. “Please take this back, Orson. I insist.”

“Keep it,” I said roughly, pulling the reins on my lust to the best of my ability. “That was how much I chose to leave. So please accept it.”

Shiloh’s hand fell to her side, her face flushed with exasperation. “What’s this really about, Orson?”

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