Breaking Free (City Shifters: the Den Book 6) Page 4

  Chapter Six

  Nick

  Her scent intoxicated him. Lacey Szdoka was the only woman who could knock him flat with just a look. The wolf wanted to rub all over her until she smelled like him, then drag her back to his den so he could mark her in other, far more enjoyable ways.

  But she looked at him like a wounded cub, and the wolf backed off. It wasn’t just the scrapes and injured shoulder from the BadCreek attack, but something much deeper. Since the night she saved his life and dragged him back from being only the wolf, they’d only crossed paths a few times from a distance. Normally, a pack of grim bodyguards surrounded her and snarled if he so much as looked in her direction, but Nick had seen enough to know she grieved. Something or someone, he didn’t know. But she grieved.

  That sadness clung to her as they stood on the street, and it deepened when he asked her to get coffee. She sounded hoarse when she rejected his offer, as if tears burned her throat, and the wolf started to worry. He didn’t want her to be sad. He much preferred the ballsy, boss bitch chick who walked into the Alphas Council like she was queen of that, too, and went after BadCreek on her own because the male alphas took too long. Nick suspected that was too heavy a burden to carry all the time, and maybe Lacey had reached a point where she couldn’t carry it on her own.

  He leaned forward, wanting to comfort her, but her eyes flashed when she glanced at him, so he stayed where he was. Nick didn’t mind going slow. He was a patient hunter. He wasn’t normally a patient man, not when it came to women, but Lacey was different. She couldn’t have been more different from the nameless, faceless distractions he’d found in bars for so long. And since the moment he saw her, in the basement of the bears’ den, no one else would ever be enough.

  Lacey cleared her throat a couple of times and finished distracting herself with the purse and the broken strap. “Thank you, but no. I’d rather walk.”

  He wouldn’t beg, and asking her out a third time counted as begging in his world. He’d just have to get more creative in his approach. “I’ll walk with you.”

  “I don’t need a chaperone,” she said, some of the familiar sharpness returning. “Have a nice night.”

  Nick smiled as the chase started to get more interesting, and an intriguing flush climbed her cheeks. “What if I’m walking in the same direction?”

  “Then you can walk ten feet behind me and we won’t have to answer any awkward questions.”

  “So that’s what the problem is? You’re worried about gossip?”

  “Don’t flatter yourself.” The muscles jumped in her jaw as she ground her teeth, and she started to clench her fist, but cut off with a grunt. No doubt her shoulder still pained her, even with the healing. She had a few fresh scars on her arms as well. He wondered if those were from the wolves or maybe a rank fight at home. Lacey picked her way through the trash to the street, where it was a little easier to walk, and started to limp away. “I don’t like small talk.”

  He snorted, loving the view as she walked away, and he waited until she was ten feet away before he ambled along after her. She had the finest ass he’d seen in years—round but firm, eminently grabbable. He figured it would jiggle nicely if he ever got a chance to smack it.

  Nick glanced up as she said something, too distracted by the sway of her hips to pretend to be looking anywhere else. “Hmm?”

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Lacey’s teeth flashed white in the murky security light of a nearby building, and he wondered if she would actually take a swing at him. Fighting could turn to wrestling, and wrestling could turn into naked wrestling. Although a dingy street wasn’t his first choice for seduction. She deserved roses and champagne and other bullshit he never bothered with.

  He blinked, distracted again, and couldn’t help but laugh at the fury in her expression. “Like you told me—I’m walking ten feet behind you. I’ve gotta go this way, and you won’t let me walk with you, so I’m... enjoying the view.”

  “Well, you’d better enjoy it while you can,” she said, and a bit of hyena growl sharpened her words. “Because that view is the only one you’ll ever get.”

  “What, the view where you’re walking away from me? Or the view that’s covered up in way too much fabric?” Nick smiled and pulled his cigar out, taking his time lighting it as she nearly tapped her foot in irritation. “Because I’m reasonably sure you’re wrong, and I’ll be seeing a lot more of you—front and back.”

  Her lips twitched like she struggled not to smile, and Nick doubled down. He winked. “And naked. So very naked.”

  “You are…exhausting,” she said, and started walking again. “So fucking smug and arrogant, I want to—”

  “To what?” Nick practically skipped to keep up with her, trailing by only a couple of feet. God, she was intoxicating. “Spend a long night getting sweaty with me?”

  Lacey stopped in her tracks and faced him, all trace of humor gone from her face. “Is that all you want? To fuck me? Put a notch on your belt and then walk away? You fucked the ice queen and mankiller, and you walked away to talk about it. Great. It’ll make you a star in the city, congratulations. Get in line behind everyone else who thinks they stand a chance.”

  “That isn’t all I want,” Nick said. Her vehemence brought him up short. Obviously he’d touched a nerve. “Yes, I want to bring you back to my den and worship you. Taste every inch of your skin. Make you come until you can’t even move. But I also want to be there in the morning to make you breakfast. And carry you home from the bar when you’ve had too much to drink. And kill any other bastards who even sniff at you. That’s what I want.”

  He’d never said it aloud before, and certainly never said it to her. Nick even surprised himself. He meant every word, and it was the first time he actually wanted to stay with a woman.

  But Lacey didn’t look charmed or even disgusted. She looked desperate and afraid. “Why? You don’t even know me. You don’t know anything about me. You’re mostly crazy and you live with bears and you still might be working for BadCreek, and you go to psychics. What the hell is wrong with you, Nick?”

  “A lot of things, but none of them matter when you’re around.” He needed to touch her. Just to hold her hand or something. But the moment he took a step, she retreated in a rush and almost tripped. Nick gritted his teeth, fighting back the wolf’s urgent need to help her, to protect her. “You’re mine, Lacey. My mate. And I’m yours. It’s just…truth. Fact.”

  “It’s impossible,” she said. The fear heightened until the whites of her eyes flashed and her hands shook as she pulled her hair back out of her face. “It’s ridiculous. You’re delusional. I can’t be your mate, and you’re sure as hell not mine.”

  Nick knew what he knew, and the wolf never second-guessed himself. “You’re mine. Why do you think you’re not?”

  “Because I already lost the love of my life,” she said, defiant. “And that’s it for me, do you understand? There’s no one else. He’s gone and I don’t get a second chance.”

  She might as well have punched him in the chest. A lot of curious things about her cleared up, though. But he couldn’t let her know she rattled him. Nick held his hands out, even more desperate to comfort her as her eyes reddened. Crying for the other man, no doubt, whoever he was. “I’m sorry, Lacey. But you’re still my mate.”

  “There will never be anything between us,” she said, enunciating every word. “Get that through your thick fucking skull. I’m going to be alone the rest of my life. That’s it.”

  Lacey turned and started walking, and for a moment Nick just watched her go. The way she carried herself and a hint of sniffles convinced him she had started crying, and he liked that even less than her yelling at him. So Nick walked behind her in silence, not even leering at her backside. He didn’t want her to be alone. She looked back once, cheeks streaked with tears, but he didn’t speak and neither did she. Nick braced himself for getting kicked in the nuts, then walked very slowly and deliberately up to her.


  Lacey didn’t retreat or lash out, though she did tense, and Nick took a deep breath. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t like serious shit, because it was too easy to get pulled into his own very dark place, and far too hard to get out of it. But she was in pain. He caught her uninjured shoulder and drew her to his chest, wrapping his arms around her, and held her as tightly as he dared. He rested his chin on top of her head, inhaling from the dark curls, and waited for the hyena to show up and kick his ass.

  She remained rigid and unyielding for so long he wondered if he should just let go and walk away, but she took a shaky breath and then collapsed against him. Nick held her up as Lacey pressed her face against his chest and sobbed, and her fists beat on him with a fury that left some serious fucking bruises behind. He just waited, weathering the storm, and rubbed her back. He’d stand there all night if she needed him to.

  It felt like eternity and just a blink before she straightened and started to pull away; he let her go reluctantly, keeping an easy grip on her arms as she swayed. Lacey shook her head, wiping at her face as the tears kept coming, and Nick shifted his grip just enough so he could pull a handkerchief out of his pocket to help mop up some of the makeup that ran in dark streaks down her cheeks and throat.

  Lacey almost smiled, shaking her head. “You seriously carry handkerchiefs? How old are you?”

  “My grandfather taught me a gentleman always has a handkerchief, in case a lady needs one.” Nick used a clean corner to brush under her eyes, mesmerized by the hint of gold in her irises. “Where do you want to go, Lacey?”

  He hoped she said his bed, but figured that was a long shot.

  Lacey pulled away but kept the handkerchief to dab at her nose in a dainty gesture he’d never have expected of the hyena queen. “I’m walking home.”

  “And I’m going to walk behind you the rest of the way,” he said. Just in case she changed her mind.

  “It’s not—”

  “I’m walking you home,” Nick said, with a little more oomph. “None of your guards will see me.”

  She took a deep breath, then abruptly jabbed his chest with her manicured finger. “This doesn’t mean anything, okay? It doesn’t change anything.”

  Nick held up his hands in surrender, then rubbed the sore spot where she poked him. “Whatever you say.”

  “But thank you,” she said under her breath, and abruptly turned away and started walking.

  He smiled, and paced along behind her the last half dozen blocks to where the hyenas made their den in an impressive historical building. Nick hung back farther as they got closer to the building, and slid into the shadows to where he could watch her approach the sentries who materialized out of the darkness like ghosts. They all bowed to Lacey as she walked past them in silence. No wonder she was lonely. No one in that building could be her friend or her comfort. They all searched for weakness and opportunities.

  It just made him more determined to convince her she was his mate, so he could take her away or at least move in so he could protect her from all the asshole hyenas trying to kick her off the throne. Nick waited until Lacey was inside the building before he turned and headed for the bears’ den. He wouldn’t mind being a king, even if it was a hyena pack instead of a wolf pack, although he’d always been a lone wolf. Maybe he could take Lacey away and they could buy a little island in the Caribbean to rule over on their own.

  Nick hummed to himself as he wandered through the streets, not wanting the night to end. He needed to find out more about Lacey’s past, and why she thought she couldn’t be his mate. At least his clothes smelled like her, and the memory of holding her against his chest would tide him over for a little while. He didn’t think he’d ever get his fill of her.

  Chapter Seven

  Lacey

  I walked into the den and bypassed the assistant who waited to take my coat and bag, and instead walked straight to my quarters. I couldn’t risk anyone getting too close a look at my face and eyes, in case any traces of my ugly cry remained. A few of the younger hyenas played in the hall, though they squeaked and scurried out of my way. It hurt my heart, since I remembered when the kids were just babies and I’d rocked them through the night to give their mothers a break.

  Savannah waited just outside my quarters, a strange expression on her face, and she followed me in despite the fact that I started to shut the door on her. I tossed my bag and coat onto a chair next to the kitchen, and kicked off my shoes as well. “There are a couple of bodies in a side street a couple blocks from O’Sheas. BadCreek crazies attacked me.”

  “And you fought them off on your own? And... inebriated?”

  I didn’t like the doubt in her voice. “Close enough. Send someone to clean up if it hasn’t already been dealt with.”

  Savannah cleared her throat and looked at little closer at me, even as I turned away. “Something’s wrong. What happened?”

  The silence stretched until I could no longer pretend that nothing happened. I exhaled and my head flopped back, so I stared up at the ceiling and wished it were the night sky again. “I ran into Nick.”

  “The wolf?” Sav’s eyebrows rose. She leaned against the kitchen counter and folded her arms over her chest. “What did he want? Leading the charge of the BadCreek assholes again?”

  There were a lot of question marks around Nick, but I didn’t doubt that he hated BadCreek as much as I did. He’d been hurt by them a lot more than most people in the city, and that counted for something. “No. He killed one or two of them.”

  “So he just happened to be there, out of all the places in the city, to help you when BadCreek attacked?” Her lips thinned in disapproval. “Come on, Lacey. What if he’s stalking you? It could be a setup.”

  My chest tightened. I didn’t want to believe it, but I had to admit the possibility. Nick’s shady past meant he might have set up that kind of situation just to profit from it, to turn it into an opportunity to build a relationship with me. Sneaky bastard. And I’d fallen for it. I scrubbed my hands over my face. “Maybe. I don’t want to talk about it right now, Sav. Just have someone take care of the bodies. I’ll be sleeping in tomorrow.”

  “Okay,” she said. She wanted to ask more, she wanted to know more—I could tell it by her expression. It wasn’t prurient interest in whether I liked Nick and might have encouraged his attention, but real concern from someone who cared. Which just made it harder to dismiss her fears.

  Savannah retreated and shut the door behind her, and I fled to my bathroom and the massive shower. The water didn’t heat enough to get rid of the feeling of garbage and BadCreek and shame, no matter how much I scrubbed with the loofah. I couldn’t believe I’d broken down in front of Nick. Or that I’d let him hug me and then leaned into him and sobbed like a little kid. I couldn’t even explain to myself what caused the rush of emotions.

  It started as a tightness in my throat as I walked away and he followed at a distance, and the pain spread through my chest to the pit of my stomach. Cal had done the same thing one night after we had a terrible argument and I’d stormed off. He was just as furious but refused to let me walk home alone, and followed me the whole way even though we were both pissed off. He loved me enough to want to protect me, even when he didn’t like me very much.

  Nick’s calm reassurance and willingness to completely abandon his plans because he didn’t want me to walk alone should have either freaked me out or pissed me off, but I was just too tired to put more energy into resisting. And something about him calmed the hyena. I didn’t trust him for a second, but at least he knew when to turn off the flirtatious bastard schtick and turn back into a normal man.

  I pulled on my pajamas and wandered back into the kitchenette to make myself some hot cocoa with a splash of rum, and picked up my coat as I waited for the milk to heat. As I hung it up, I pulled my phone out of the pocket and found the handkerchief as well.

  Imagine, rough-and-tumble Nick carried an actual cotton handkerchief. And... it was monogrammed. I snorted t
o myself, not sure whether it was lovely and old-fashioned or just pretentious. The monogram didn’t look like his, though. The letters were strange, a different alphabet maybe. Cyrillic. I frowned, tossing the handkerchief on the counter, and went back to stirring the milk. Another mystery to ask him about.

  When the cocoa was done and I’d poured maybe a little too much rum into it, I tried to settle down for the night. Exhaustion weighed me down every day, but the moment my head touched the pillow, my brain leapt into overdrive. A million thoughts overwhelmed me every night, until I tossed and turned and found no rest, regardless of what kind of pills I took or how much I drank. Nothing worked.

  I hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in months. Maybe a full year.

  I made more cocoa and stared at the clock as the hour hand passed three. It was too close to the anniversary of Cal’s death for me to rest easily anyway, and the engagement ring he’d given me weighed my heart down as well as my hand. Restlessness made me jumpy, and not even cocoa helped with that. Neither did the rum.

  Only physical exertion would help—a fight or something else entirely. I shook my head as I wandered back into my bedroom. A good fuck would take care of all that anxious energy, and no doubt Nick would have volunteered to help with that. He’d probably break a land-speed record if I called him to come over.

  Not that I’d ever be able to explain that to the rest of the cackle.

  I groaned and sank onto the mattress, staring at the trinkets that lay strewn across the top of the dresser. The man was insane. And wrong. He had to be wrong. It simply wasn’t possible for me to be his mate. Cal and I had been soulmates, and Cal died. For shifters, there was only one true love. I’d had my chance, and I’d lost him. Regardless of what Nick felt, he couldn’t be right. Maybe it was just infatuation or lust or some other delusion that felt like love, but it wasn’t actually love.