Wicked Cravings (The Phoenix Pack #2)(12)
Author: Suzanne Wright

It had to be all tangled up with the blow to his ego, Dante deduced. Plus telling himself that he would not, could not, have her made him want her more. Naturally, that was messing with his head.

Naturally.

No matter how hard he tried to focus on the paperwork in front of him, his wolf and his ego tormented Dante until he found himself taking his cell phone from his pocket. Before he knew it, he was typing a text message. He wasn’t sure where exactly the compulsion came from to type those particular words, but he didn’t fight it.

Remember one thing, Jaime: A human can’t satisfy you the way you need him to.

Not like I could, he thought only a second after he’d sent the message. Thank God he hadn’t typed it.

Interrupting the silent berating he was giving himself for letting his frustrations get the better of him, his cell phone beeped. Immediately he read the incoming message.

He’s always managed just fine in the past, no need to worry. ? Dante ground his teeth so hard it hurt.

Motherfucker. He’d originally intended to shove his cell back into his pocket and sling the whole thing from his mind now that he’d given his anger a small outlet.

No f**king way would he ignore that taunting response.

“Fine” is enough for you, is it? Never had you down as someone who settled for second best.

He waited impatiently for a response. It came a minute later, though it felt like much longer.

Beta or not, my sex life isn’t any of your business.

A fierce growl rumbled its way up his chest. Those words got to him again for a reason he had yet to understand. She’d wanted to provoke him, and she’d succeeded.

Everything about you is my business. Don’t ever forget that.

A voice in his head pointed out that wasn’t entirely accurate, but it was merely background noise to Dante right now. Her response made both him and his wolf bare their teeth.

Whatfreakingever.

Growling at her dismissiveness, he typed a reply.

Don’t blow me off, Jaime. You need to end this thing with the human before it gets complicated. If things mess up between you and him, it could be bad enough that those idiotic religious groups leap on it and start hanging around outside pack territory again. That’s the last thing we need right now.

He wouldn’t have thought that anything could have made him more pissed than he already was. He was so wrong.

Whoa there, Popeye, that had a hint of paranoia to it. Maybe you should quit the crack pipes. Gotta go.

He so wanted to spank that female’s ass—and hard. Maybe spanking that little attitude out of her would make her finally stop baiting him and rebelling against his every order. Maybe he should also kick his wolf’s ass for being unreasonably possessive of a female to whom he had no rights. His wolf growled at that. He was just as stubborn as she was.

Acknowledging, albeit rather begrudgingly, that she’d won that round, Dante fixed his attention on the work that awaited him, intending to ignore his wolf’s foul mood and the unfamiliar feelings needling his ego. He was not going to think about Jaime Farrow again tonight. Not even once.

The second she had sent her final message, Jaime switched off her cell phone and returned it to her purse, since the movie would be starting any minute now. What was wrong with that guy? She hadn’t realized he had such a hard-on for humans. Recalling that he had a few friends who were humans, she shook off the bigot theory. No, apparently there was another reason Dante had switched from being distant to poking his nose into her business and even attempting to interfere with her sex life.

“What do you make of it?” she asked Riley, who had read every message and had even tried advising Jaime on how to respond.

Riley swallowed the popcorn she’d been munching on before speaking. “The whole thing stinks of jealousy to me.”

“But that makes no sense.”

“He’s a guy, it doesn’t have to make sense.”

She had a point. In Jaime’s experience, when it came to male shifters it was often a case of

“logic optional.” Still, if Dante had had any interest in her, there would have been no reason to hide it. And then, there were the things he’d said to Trick about her. “It can’t be jealousy.”

“I find that hard to believe, but I’ve never even spoken to the guy, so I can only speculate. If you’re sure he’s not jealous, then maybe he just doesn’t like it that you’re not chasing after him anymore.”

“Objection, I never chased him.”

“Okay, maybe he doesn’t like that you’re not gazing dreamily at him anymore.”

“I did not gaze dreamily.”

Riley patted her hand. “Sure you didn’t, sweetie.”

“Patronizing bitch.”

“Giant-loving skank. Now shush, the movie’s starting.”

With a playful harrumph, Jaime turned her attention to the movie screen, ready to let it distract her from thoughts of his peculiar behavior. A minute into the movie, she groaned. The hero just had to be named “Dante,” didn’t he?

CHAPTER THREE

Black wolf. Mom screaming. Growls. Blood. Black wolf. Dad shifting. More wolves. Teeth. Claws.

Mom screaming. Black wolf. Black wolf. Black wolf. Black wolf. Teeth. More wolves. Dad roaring.

Growls. Blood. Blood. Blood.

Jaime sprang upright in her bed, panting, shaking, and sweating. Her heartbeat was loud and pumping aggressively. Snippets of her dream sailed across her mind, and grief ripped through her.

Her wolf was also distressed by this trip-down-memory-lane dream and was vigorously attacking the cage Jaime had confined her to, growling and howling and body-slamming the walls until the bars began to give. Jaime doubled over and cried out as cramps assailed her body and an ache pounded through her head. She fought the change, fought it with every bit of strength she had, fought to quickly repair the cage. She sent calming images to her wolf, hoping to reassure the animal that they weren’t in danger anymore, that it was over.

It was minutes later before her wolf began to settle and the bars finally straightened. Nausea suddenly struck Jaime, and in an agony that was becoming too familiar, she rushed to the bathroom where she vomited violently into the toilet. Even when there was nothing left in her stomach, she was racked by dry heaves.

Nothing Jaime had ever done had been able to heal her wolf. Nothing. She was still as traumatized as she had been at just twelve, when she had witnessed her parents’ murder. Her wolf—

frightened, anxious, angry—had surfaced to protect her. It hadn’t been until three weeks later that Jaime had been able to shift back into her human form. Her wolf had been too distressed and defensive to ease back or understand that the attack was over.