Page 16 of Her Convict Wolf

“And that’s who you are,” I continue.

She shakes her head miserably. “I’m really not, Maxim. All I do is run.”

“That’s not true. Look at the way you turned up all by yourself yesterday and served lunch to a bunch of feral prisoners.”

“What could I do? The guard refused to serve you all.”

I snort. “You could’ve dumped the food and driven the hell away. That’s what most people would’ve done.”

She sighs. “But you wouldn’t have gotten fed.”

A grin spreads across my face. “And that’s what makes you so special, Emory. You’re not only badass, but you’ve got a beautiful heart.” I cup her face in my hands. “Most little kids are scared of me. Guess it’s because I’m so big and gnarly-looking. But you never were. I remember you tottered right up to me and started swinging on my leg.”

“I always felt safe with you,” she breathes. “I knew you’d protect me.” Her darkened irises are looking right into mine and her lips are a little parted. I realize I’ve been stroking her cheeks with the pads of my thumbs.

Like I’m in a dream, I bring my head closer, tilting my jaw. I hear her breath hitch, but she doesn’t pull away.

Holy hell, she has the skin of an angel. My callused fingertips are too rough to be touching it.

Fuck.What am I doing?

I jerk away from her.

“You must be late,” I mutter.

She glances at the clock on the oven. “Shoot. I am.” She keeps her head down while she grabs a purse from a coat peg, but I see her cheeks are an adorable shade of pink.

She wanted me to kiss her.

The thought runs through me like fire.

But that can’t be right. Can it?

* * *

I keepmy distance as I follow Emory to work. She’d attract a ton of attention if she was suddenly accompanied by a huge, scary-looking stranger. That’s what I tell her, anyway. The truth is, I want to scope out the town, check out all the vulnerabilities, places where people could be hiding, watching her. So, I cling to the shadows, a hundred yards back. I told her to act natural, to forget that I’m there, and she does. Most people wouldn’t manage it, but when you grow up the daughter of a crime boss, I guess it comes as second nature to be cool and collected under pressure.

She strolls along at a comfortable pace, arms swinging gently. Hips swaying.Damn.Her ass looks incredible in those tight jeans. Like a juicy, round peach I want to sink my teeth into.

Guilt pours through me. I’ve got to stop thinking these pervy thoughts about her. It’s not right. And I definitely had no right to try to kiss her when she was feeling vulnerable. I’m not that guy—

Mate—my beast insists.

No.She’s too young, too innocent, too perfect for me. I’m going to protect her, that’s all. I’m not going to kiss her, shove my cock inside her, or claim her. Even if I wind up with blue balls for the rest of my life.

My head swivels left and right. If I was looking for suspicious characters in Perdue, I’d be spoiled for choice. Almost everyone is shady in one way or another, as befits a town of the lost. Eyes peeping between curtains, heads disappearing around corners. It’s a darn minefield. The hairs on the back of my neck prickle as my wolf takes in one potential hazard after another. My beast is on high alert, adrenaline pouring through its veins. Every part of me is screaming, get Emory the hell out of here. It’s almost impossible to protect her. But protect her is what I promised to do. To let her live the life she deserves, after she’s been imprisoned and controlled by her father so many years.

I follow her down a side street, onto the main street, then into a network of back alleys. She slows down, giving me time to catch up with her.

Before long we’re standing in front of an old pub withSinner’s Refugewritten above the door. She strides through the front door and hesitates, her small hand hanging onto the door handle.

I speed-walk the last twenty yards and catch the door just as it’s closing. There’s a big bear shifter behind the bar, and as I enter the room, her gaze homes in on me.

“We’re not open yet,” she says, in a voice of flint.

“Meredith, this is Maxim. He’s my—” Emory has slipped behind the bar and is pulling her purse off her shoulder.

We haven’t discussed this part. I was so stirred up by almost kissing her, that I forgot my usual rule—always be as prepared as humanly possible.

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