Treeland Pack Tales 3: A Trace of Ivy (16 page)

Chet used werewolf speed to close the gap. “You might need
my help.”

Her green eyes glinted with mischief, thrilling him since
she trusted him enough to tease.

She nodded. “I might, and someday you just might need mine.”

A whisper of foreboding raised the fine hairs on his arms.

Ivy pulled off her sweater and unfastened the jeans clinging
to her long legs like a dark tan. She shimmied out of the denim, and the chill
of premonition evaporated as his temperature spiked along with his arousal.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she warned.

He made an effort to look casual. “Like what?”

Ivy placed a soft palm over his heart, holding him in place.
“Like you’re starving and I’m your favorite meal. Besides, you can’t be hungry
after inhaling a whole giant pizza.”

He parted his lips to give her grief, but she stepped in
closer, erasing speech.

“Uh-uh. I want to walk into your pack leader’s place with
some semblance of grace.”

“Fair enough, if you make it up to me when we get home.” His
voice deepened with unquenchable need.

Her entire body softened. “You’ve got yourself a deal, my
dangerous dandy.”

Another sappy grin stretched his mouth. The funny part was
he was too thrilled to care. Bonding did that to a male.

Reluctant to separate from her, he left the bathroom door
ajar while he scraped beard stubble and tended his mustache and goatee. He set
down the scissors and bumped an unfamiliar container labeled
Hope in Jar
. Next to it a bottle of
Purity
made him smile again.

He hung back until Ivy laid out the lace frock. Once he knew
what she would wear, selecting his pick-and-pick suit, then pairing it with a black-and-white
check shirt and classic black bow tie was easy. Dressing took all of five
minutes, including the tie. He picked up his father’s cufflinks, lightly
rubbing the stylized engraving of his parents’ initials. The hinged pewter
disks had been a mating present from his mother. Maybe the secret of their
enduring love would rub off on him.

For a set-in-his-ways bachelor, sharing his bed and bath
with Ivy was a surprising pleasure. However, she needed her own space in his
life. Mentally he restructured the apartment to eliminate a guest room that did
nothing other than house his weights. The area would be far better as a proper
dressing room for his mate. He wanted her to stay enough to share his closet
forever, but since she loved clothes as much as he did, it was not a practical
solution.

A pair of black loafers finished his sartorial choices for
the evening. He parked himself in the doorway between his walk-in closet and
the bedroom in time to watch the lace float over Ivy’s body, hiding enticing
thigh-high sheer stockings. Thoughts of undressing her caused anticipation to
sing in his veins.

She reached for the dress’s zipper.

He sped across the room and gently moved her hands away.
“Allow me.”

As he pulled up the metal tab, the fragile material whispered
under his fingers. The smooth fabric already held her warmth and a trace of
Ivy’s sweetness.

Her hair was up in an elegant twist with a few strands left
loose to distract him. Chet leaned in and placed a kiss on her nape before
fastening the top hook into its eye.

A sigh shivered from her lips, and the scent of her arousal
teased his nostrils.

The heat constantly simmering between them flared. His cock
lengthened and grew stiff and heavy. If he cupped her perfect breasts, the taut
nipples would burn his palms, and if he buried his face in her silken channel,
her honey would rain on him. Their sensual connection was off the charts, and
he thanked the goddess for the miracle, but he needed more than sexual
fireworks. He needed her to love him.

He kept his hold on her hip light. “Almost ready?”

“Just about.” She stepped into the bathroom and put a drop
of something shiny on her lips before turning toward him. “Please save the
receipts for today. I will pay you back. A supply of temporary checks should
arrive tomorrow.”

Chet swallowed a growl and held her coat. “I thought we’d
already settled this—dressing you is my privilege.”

“Very prettily said, but I never agreed. I like to pay my
own way.” She slipped into the coat’s sleeves with the same grace she did everything,
making it simple for him to settle the cozy wool on her slender shoulders.

And I want to take
care of you
. Her refusal stung more than his pride. Did she still intend to
leave as soon as her friends were safe? Centuries of females eager to please
him had spoiled him. Now he needed to win Ivy’s wary heart. The too-real
possibility of failure made him shudder.

She placed a warm palm on his chest. “You’re a generous and
thoughtful as well as sinfully gorgeous male. Please understand it’s not that
I’m opposed to presents, but a new wardrobe isn’t a suitable gift.”

His wolf preened at her praise while his human side planned
to arrange an appropriate gesture of his love to tempt his mate.

Chet wanting to buy her clothes was sweet and very old-school
male thinking. The last thing Ivy wanted to do was hurt his feelings, but she
needed to hold on to her own identity.

She reached for her seat belt while he closed the passenger
door and did that disconcerting speedy thing, seating himself beside her before
she’d fastened the safety strap. The soft leather cradled her with the same
kind of understated luxury she associated with him.

“Ready?” His eyes glowed amber.

The intensity of his passionate regard heated her blood. The
sensual connection between them was beyond anything she’d experienced or even
dreamed existed.

“Yes,” she lied, aware he would smell her uncertainty.

He grumbled but started the auto without comment.

Chet maneuvered through Friday-night traffic with ease, leaving
her to contemplate this new reality where werewolves and vampires and demons
existed and she was one of the supernatural beings. She forced herself to take
deep, calming breaths, clinging to her few certainties. The monsters’
relentless abuse had almost stolen her self-worth. The beasts still tortured
her friends. She had to find a way to help. Chet had earned her trust, and that
was where it got complicated. She cared about him more strongly and in ways she
would have never imagined.

She didn’t know how to find the rogues, and she couldn’t win
against them alone. She needed Chet’s help and his pack’s to succeed. He needed
her to keep him sane. An equitable exchange of mutual assistance, but without
freedom of choice, could they have a true partnership?

Ivy didn’t have all the answers, but she believed they had a
chance at the kind of union she’d only glimpsed. Sure, she was scared,
shivering in her pretty new heels, actually. But for Chet’s sake and hers, she
wouldn’t hide or cower. She would face the scary Alphas and do her best to fit
into this strange new community.

After they left the thoroughfare, the driveways grew farther
apart.

“You’ll see the compound around the next curve.” Chet eased
the car up a winding road.

Groomed forest banked their climb. As they rounded the turn,
she peered through the trees, catching peeks of an eight-foot formed-concrete
wall. “Is that Treeland Pack headquarters?”

“The perimeter.”

“I expected buildings, a sign, or a mailbox, not fencing
suitable for a government mint.”

“The pack prefers privacy and low profile. We’re coming in
the back road, which is closer to the Alpha’s house. None of the structures are
visible from outside the grounds.”

A few minutes later, the Bentley stopped at an iron gate
long enough for a remote-controlled camera to pan over them. They must’ve
passed inspection, because the heavy metal swung open.

“If this is the rear entrance, what’s in front—a swat team?”

He barked a laugh. “Close. A squad of soldiers guards the
main entrance. Another squad patrols the grounds.”

The weird thing was the idea of armed Alpha males actually
made her feel safer. In a few days’ time she’d gone from battered survivor to
mated Beta bitch. Surreal didn’t begin to cover that kind of transition.

Ivy took in the scenery as the Bentley crested a rise. The
rolling lawn bordered by islands of woods only needed a few sand traps and a
few numbered flags to pass for a golf course. At the top of the slight hill, a
single-story house, large enough to make a convincing clubhouse, greeted them.

Double doors stood open, spilling light into the lowering
daylight and framing their hosts. Daniel stood behind Scarlet, holding her
against him. Her head nested under his square chin.

A smile curved Ivy’s lips at the couple’s mutual affection.
Scarlet had survived rogue captivity and healed. That miracle of recovery gave
Ivy hope for herself and her friends. She threaded her arm through the elbow
Chet extended.

“Thank you,” she whispered, grateful he tucked her close and
shortened his stride, making it simpler for her to keep pace.

Ivy took another deep breath for courage and extended her
hand to Daniel. “Thank you for inviting us, sir.”

He shook her hand without crushing it. His dark eyes
twinkled. “You share GQ’s manners.”

“And you share my excellent taste in females.” Chet tilted
his neck to Daniel and teased his boss before moving on to gently squeeze
Scarlet’s dainty fingers.

Ivy averted her eyes from the intimidating pack leader,
taking in Scarlet’s finery. Her beautiful auburn curls tumbled artfully from a
deliberately messy French twist. Bronze sequins glittered over her lush curves,
stopping just above her knees.

Ivy zoomed in on an exquisite pair of fragile sandals. “You
look stunning. Are those sandals Jimmy Choo’s?”

Scarlet lifted one small foot, grinning. “Uh-huh. They’re
new.”

“The dress is amazing. I love the detail.”

“It’s a Kay Unger. Her things seem to fit me well. Yours is
so elegant. If I had your figure, I’d wear something simple and elegant just
like yours.” Scarlet sighed.

“If I had your arms, I’d bare them,” Ivy blurted.

Scarlet tugged her into the house. “Let the hot-blooded
males breathe in the March chill. We can sit by the fire.”

The stone fireplace was big enough to qualify as a cave. A
good-size tree trunk burned merrily, warming the entire living room. Ivy took
in walls covered in what looked like birch bark, a cork floor with woven tweedy
area rugs, sturdy end tables, hammered copper lamps, and giant abstract
canvases. The overall effect was impressive and homey at the same time.

Scarlet gestured for Ivy to sit. “Now tell me what’s wrong
with your arms.”

“There’s an ugly rogue bite on my left biceps.” Ivy smoothed
her already well-behaved skirt before sitting on the long side of a sectional.

“You must not have noticed my wrist.” Scarlet held out an
arm.

Ivy studied the forearm Scarlet rotated. Faded scar tissue
circled her narrow wrist. “Oh my God, what happened? Did rogues try to chew off
your wrist?”

“I doubt it. More likely I did it to myself trying to
escape. The mark is part of my memory gap.” Scarlet shrugged and took a seat on
the short end of the couch, catty-corner from Ivy’s seat. “Trust me on this.
Werewolves are way too busy sniffing your assets to notice a scar or two unless
they’re really involved.”

“Chet noticed.”

Scarlet nodded solemnly. “Fair enough. No reason to upset a
newly bonded male’s delicate sensibilities with reminders you’ve been abused.”

“Exactly.”
I
definitely don’t want Chet thinking about monsters when he looks at me.

“That’s better. Now tell me where you found that
ridiculously beautiful dress.”

Ivy shared her Newman and Porter adventure.

Scarlet snorted when she explained the Nora and Amanda
episode.

Ivy’s eyes widened at the indelicate noise.

“Don’t look so surprised. Chet’s ex is a sneaky bitch. She
was quick to cut me with a clever remark that was supposedly a joke each time
she saw me back before I could shift. Nora is a horrid gossip, but she doesn’t
discriminate. She always has something nasty to say about everyone. After
Daniel took over the pack, they changed their melody to sweetness and light—at
least to my face.”

“Not being able to shift is bad?”

“Forgive me. I spoke without thinking. Dormants have
advantages and disadvantages, like any other type of wolf. A latent female
usually carries young more successfully. That gift makes all other females
envious. There’s a silly pecking order with full-blood wolves being supreme.”
Scarlet wrinkled her nose. “My heritage is pure werewolf, but that didn’t save
me from outright ridicule and lots of subtle cruelty when the connection to my
inner bitch was broken.”

“Then ’bitch‘ isn’t an insult…”

“Not at all. Werewolf females are all bitches, and males are
dogs, although some more so than others.”

A giggle escaped Ivy at Scarlet’s dry tone.

“What’s so funny?” Daniel scooted in next to his mate.

Scarlet turned an angelic expression to her mate. “I was
just filling Ivy in on fundamental pack terminology.”

“I’ll bet.” Daniel leaned over and nuzzled his mate’s neck
before sitting down and placing her carefully on his lap.

Chet draped himself next to Ivy on the couch.

She turned toward him as automatically as a moth seeking the
light of a flame. His brown eyes glowed amber as they met hers.

Is that the kind of
relationship you want with me? That kind of lasting love is exactly what I want
to share with you when the rogue nightmare ends. Is it an impossible dream?
Suddenly as shy as if she’d spoken aloud, she dropped her lashes.

Chet stroked her arm, not letting her pull away. She inhaled
his reassuring scent and snuggled into his warm side.