Page 59 of Wolf.e
“The boys or Shell got some barbeque going tonight?” he asks.
“Maybe, feel free to head over and find out,” I tell him as he fastens his helmet.
I turn around and nod to the porch crew: two other club prospects, and an older member who barely rides anymore and his grandson who is a licensed carpenter.
“Good work, boys,” I tell them as I move to head in.
“We’ll have the rest of the old porch down by tomorrow and be starting on the new one.”
“Take the scrap wood to Millers Farm, tell them to bill me,” I say and nod for them to take off.
I push through the screen and make my way into the dim house as the sound of tools hitting a job box and trucks and bikes firing up fills the air.
I look up at the two-storey foyer. This house is large, much too big for one person. It’s neat though, and it smells like a blend of stale air and lemon or citrus, but all the furniture is clean and uncovered and the walls are all pale gray.
“You’re wasting your time here. I hope you realize there’s not a chance in hell I’m going with you to live at the clubhouse.”
I turn to face the defiant voice echoing from behind me. Brinley stands in her bare feet, little linen shorts with a black cropped tank top and her hair wild around her shoulders. Her nipples are hard underneath her tank and her arms are folded under her tits, forming a little shelf for them. Her face sits in a pretty, defiant little scowl, letting me know she’ll be putting up a fight.
Fuck me, she’s stunning when she’s angry.
My eyes take hold of hers from across the room.
She’s right about one thing. I am wasting my time, but not in the way she thinks.
I’m never going to be able to overcome my want for her.
There’s no saving her.
Her breath shallows and her tongue darts out to wet her bottom lip. Outside, she’s all strength and heat simmers in her pale blue eyes. When they meet mine, I see the tiniest hint of fear.
That split second is all my body needs for that basic, primal instinct to take over. My instinct to hunt her, my instinct to completely own her.
The last thread of my control snaps like a twig under the weight of my boot, and I know there’s no going back.
Chapter 29
Brinley
I’m frozen, afraid to move, or breathe. In the short time I’ve known Gabriel, I’ve seen him angry, amused, terrifying, focused, godlike.
But I’ve never seen him like this. This look he’s wearing I can’t place.
He doesn’t respond to me.
His eyes are primed and focused, they seem to touch every hair on my head, every stretch of skin. Like they’re learning the planes of my body. I’m afraid to speak again or even breathe.
I wait like a fly caught in a spider’s web.
The second Gabriel moves, I flinch. He smirks and calmly pulls his cut from his body, tossing it over the back of a chair in the side parlor. He turns and silently stalks back to the front door. Placing his hand in the centre, he leans into it and drops his head, pausing for a moment, almost as if he’s collecting himself. I can see the rise and fall of his shoulders as he inhales and then releases a single deep breath. His other hand comesup, resting on the handle for a moment and then slowly locks the door with an audibleclickthat seems to echo throughout the entire house. I can sense the danger, but I’m rooted to my spot, too afraid to go anywhere. Gabriel slowly turns away from the door and stares at his cut on the chair. A second passes. Then two, before he brings his dark gaze back to mine.
“Run,” he growls.
I flinch again with the deep timbre of his voice in the quiet space.
“W-wha—?”
“It seems”—he starts to move toward me and I brace myself for flight—“we’re at an impasse. So, I’ll give you one minute as a head start.”
