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Heart of the Wolf

Book 9 of the True Mates Generations Series

 

Chapter Two

What the fuck am I doing?

It was a question Ransom asked himself repeatedly for the last sixteen hours, as he rode continuously from Kentucky, stopping only for gas and food. Now, as he stopped in New Jersey for a quick break, he could see the Manhattan skyline across the Hudson, a sight he hadn’t seen in six months. So close, yet so far.

Manhattan. Home of the New York clan.

Growing up, even the thought of those people was enough to put him on edge. They were the ones to blame for where he was now. Or rather, who he was. And to think he’d never stepped foot in their territory until six months ago. Never wanted to.

But, for things to progress and move forward, it was a necessary evil. There was a plan in place, set in motion long ago.

A plan to get back at those who committed the atrocities that had forced him into this life.

A plan for revenge.

I should turn around.

His inner wolf, however, did not agree with that plan. It urged him to keep going, snapping at him each time he stopped or started to doubt himself.

“All right, all right,” he groused. “We’re here. You can stop yammering.”

The animal had been relentless over the last six months, ripping up at him. Restless. Uncontrollable. Sometimes inconsolable. Pops had definitely noticed that something was not right. “What the hell has gotten your wolf all riled up?” he had asked one day. Ransom had merely shrugged him off because how was he supposed to explain that nothing seemed right or normal anymore, not since he’d met her. Isabelle Brooklyn Bridge.

He could barely count the number of times he’d stared at that name in his phone, finger hovering over the screen, wondering if he should message or call her. At night he’d close his eyes, imagining her soft, curvy body against his, her delicious sweet and spicy scent—honey and cardamon—tickling his senses, or those gorgeous mismatched blue and green eyes.

And those sweet, soft lips. Lips that made him hungry for more. The moment they locked gazes and he looked into them, he knew he was in trouble. That’s why when she walked back into the club and away from him, he vowed to never contact her. But that didn’t help at all.

She was not part of the plan. He had to forget her.

Distance and time did nothing to quell his need for her. If anything, not being able to see, feel, or touch her made his hunger grow exponentially. And his damned wolf hadn’t been making it easy. Every spare thought in his mind was of her and the wolf would keep reminding him of Isabelle’s scent or the feel of her against him. He couldn’t even find a substitute because even the thought of touching another female made his wolf furious.

He really needed to forget about her. Besides, she was one of them. If she ever found out the real reason he had been in New York, surely she’d report him to her Alpha.

His teeth ground together. Grant Anderson. Alpha of New York and the another name he could never forget.

Remember why we’re here, he told his wolf.

The plan. It was set in motion long ago. He had a role to play in this game. And failure would not be tolerated. He couldn’t be distracted. Not now.

It had been hard keeping everything from Pops and the rest of the Savage Wolves Motorcycle Club. Pops had been good to him; treated him like his own flesh and blood, taken him and his mother in when no one else would. If Pops hadn’t married his mother, his life would have been different. He would have taken a darker path, where the worst of Lone Wolves went. But Pops had turned everything around. Put him on a better path, shown him that there was another way. The MC had become his life, his anchor and a better life someone like him could have.

That’s why lying to Pops had made his stomach tie up in knots. He had he had responsibilities back home as Vice President, but he asked Pops for a week break and the old man had happily agreed if that’s what he needed to get his head back on straight.

You’re doing this for them, he reminded himself. Because when things fell into place, this was the only way he and everyone else back home would be saved.

Isabelle Brooklyn Bridge was not part of the plan. No, she was a distraction. One he couldn’t afford this late in the game. But he never thought he’d be knocked off his feet by a petite, curvy little thing with curves that made him weep and a face that haunted his dreams. The moment he saw her enter Blood Moon, he knew he had to have her.

He had called her princess because that’s what she seemed like—a spoiled, beautiful princess dressed up in frivolous designer clothes with no substance. But she’d surprised him—knocked him off his feet if he was honest with himself—with her little speech about Lone Wolves. And kissing her had been a mistake. Because now he couldn’t stop thinking of her taste and scent.

But I have to.

For his own sake. For his family. For revenge.

Stick to the plan.

That was the only reason he was here in New York. Shaking his head and ignoring his wolf’s pleas, he revved up the engine on his bike and continued on his journey.

Six months ago, he’d been here on a reconnaissance mission. His unique status as a Lone Wolf made it easy for him to travel into the territory. The initial information he had about the clan was outdate, older than him probably, so he had to make sure they were still correct. He’d staked out all the important places. Fenrir Corporation on Madison Avenue. Creed Security downtown. The Enclave. Muccino’s. And of course, Blood Moon. That had been his last stop on his three-day trip, and he had been ready to pack and go home. That was when he met her.

His wolf growled at him, as it did whenever he thought of her. Forget it, pal. They were not going to seek her out. Besides, he hadn’t seen or talked to her since that night. She’d probably forgotten about him and though that was probably for the best, it still made his something in his chest ache.

This trip was another scouting mission. Get the info, wait for the call, pass it on to his contact. That was all.

When he’d last been in New York, it was in the middle of a winter and everything was calm and quiet. Now, on this late summer evening, the city seemed more alive and bustling. People hung out on their stoops, walked along the sidewalks, or sat outside chairs and tables restaurants had set out. Eventually, he made his way to Midtown to a nondescript motel where he’d stayed previously. It wasn’t the Ritz, but they took cash and asked no questions, not to mention, their garage was safe. After parking his bike, he made his way to the lobby and paid the dour-looking front desk clerk before heading to his room and dumping his bag. Then, after a quick change of clothes, he headed out and walked a few blocks to where Blood Moon was located. However, instead of heading in toward the front door, he walked to the alley that led to the rear of the building.

His enhanced sight easily adjusted to the darkness, and grabbed and empty box laying on its side by the front of the alley. Picking it up, he hoisted it on his shoulders then walked further inside. Two employees on their smoke break ignored him as he slipped into the rear entrance of the club, using the box to block his face from the other employees. The front security where the burly bouncers stood guard had been harder to get past the last time he was here, but the security from the back was nonexistent. It would be easy enough to get inside from there.

When he got past the kitchen, he tossed the box aside and headed into the main club area. Easy as taking candy from a baby. The dance floor buzzed with energy as a pulsing dance tune boomed from the speakers, the bass making the floor vibrate. Lights throbbed, bathing the club-goers in brilliant splashes of color as they gyrated on the floor. Ransom ignored everything going on, instead, glanced around trying to recall where the emergency exits were and how many security guards were on duty during—

Every single hair on the back of his neck and arms stood on end as he felt a strange, pulsing sensation behind his eyes. His inner wolf went very still, then began to make a ruckus, as if trying to catch his attention. Turning his head, his gaze landed on one of the cordoned-off VIP tables along the sides of the dance floor. A blur of white came into focus and his heart slammed into his sternum.

Isabelle.

She was like a beacon in the darkness. Time slowed and everything else melted away—the club, the music, the dancers—as his focus all went to her. She was standing up and seemed to be trying to get past the other people seated at her table, nudging her way out of the booth when one of them snaked a hand around her waist and pulled her onto his lap, making her laugh and slap him playfully on the shoulder as she struggled to stand.

His inner wolf roared in rage. Ransom saw red. Red everywhere as his stomach twisted in knots at the sight of some other male with his hands around her. It was the one torturous thought he never fully allowed to form in his mind—that all this time she could have been with any man she chose. His hands curled into tight fists at his sides as he closed his eyes, trying to calm himself and his wolf down. To tamp down the urge to tear that male—and anyone who touched her—in half.

But it was no use. When he opened his eyes again he saw she had made her way around the velvet ropes. He didn’t even realize he was following her until he was halfway across the dance floor, ignoring the protests of the dancers he bumped into and shoved aside as he strode toward her. She ducked into an unmarked corridor, and he followed her down the dimly-lit hallway, his long strides helping him catch up to her.

Suddenly, she whirled around, her bi-colored eyes flashing with anger, fists raised. “Why the hell are you following—” She went slack-jawed and her nostrils flared. “You.” Her arms dropped to her sides. “What are you doing here?”

She was so fucking beautiful he couldn’t breathe. The first time he saw those eyes—one green, one blue—he thought they weren’t real. Hell, he didn’t think she was real either. Even now, with her glossy hair falling around her shoulders in waves, curves wrapped up tight in another all-white outfit, she looked like an avenging angel.

“What?” Irritation laced her voice as she placed a hand on her hip. “Did you forget to speak and how to use a phone?”

“You’re mad that I never called,” he managed to say despite the air still trapped in his lungs.

“Mad?” She flipped her hair and gave a little laugh. “Please. That was six months ago. Ancient history.”

The edge to her voice gave him some hope. Despite her protest, she was pissed. Which was better than her being indifferent. “Who was that guy?”

“What guy?”

Cornering her against the wall, he slammed his palms behind her, making her start. “That. Guy. At your table.”

Despite her initial fright, she squared her shoulders and looked him straight in the eyes. “Which one? There were so many of them—”

“The one who touched you,” he growled through gritted teeth. How the hell was he the one losing control in this situation? “Are you his?” His wolf howled in protest.

“His what?”

She looked so damn calm he wanted to … to … “His woman. Was that your boyfriend? Lover? Any of them?”

“I don’t know, maybe they’re all my lovers—” She gasped when he gripped her arms. “Ransom—”

“So, they share you like some party favor—”

“Fuck off!” Underestimating her strength, he staggered back when she shook his grip off and shoved him back against the opposite wall, his head banging on concrete. “Asshole! I don’t hear from you for months and you think you can come here, to my clan’s territory and start slut-shaming me?” Her finger poked at his chest. “Let me tell you something, mister! I don’t belong to anyone. I can sleep with a dozen guys if I want to. And no one shares me, I share me!”

She was right of course. Despite the rage burning up inside him, he knew it. He had his chance with her months ago and all he had to do was pick up the damned phone. She could have been his. He swallowed the lump in his throat. “I’m sorry. For … for what I said earlier.” It left a burning, bitter taste in his mouth but he had no right to judge her. “I should—” His heart stopped for a second when she laid her hands on his chest and her sweet scent tickled his sense. “What are you doing?”

“Ransom,” she sighed. “Why didn’t you call? Didn’t you want me?”

“Princess.” She could have cut him with a hundred little knives and it would have hurt less that having her think that. “I did. I do.” God, how he wanted her.

Her hands slid up to his shoulders and she pressed her body against his. “Me too,” she confessed.

“We shouldn’t. I’m too old for you. Too rough. Too jaded.” And he didn’t want to hurt her. There was a plan that had been set into motion long ago. Even before she was born. And if she ever found out …

“I don’t care.” Her fingers dug into his shoulders and her breasts rubbed against his chest. “I didn’t think I would ever see you again.”

Fuck. A man could only hold out for so long. One more kiss, he told himself. One kiss and then he’d leave her alone.

Her eyes widened when he gripped her waist and lowered his head to plant his mouth on hers. Every nerve ending in his body lit up at the contact, and his lips moved urgently, kissing her as if his life depended on it, her sweet scent driving him mad. Flipping their positions around, he caged her body up against the wall, his mouth coaxing hers open and his tongue sweeping inside. A moan managed to escape her throat as he rubbed his raging erection against her.

She broke away from him, her breathing ragged. “Ransom … why …”

Why indeed. He didn’t know. He didn’t care. “I want your mouth,” he demanded. She wiggled, as if trying to get away from him, but his grip held her firmly in place. “So … sweet. Give it to me. Just one more.” She let out a cry before he captured her mouth again. Just one touch. One touch and he would leave her alone.

Her sweet little body surged up against him and as his hips held her lower half in place, he moved his hand up her torso, slipping underneath her tight blouse to cup her breast. She moaned into his mouth as he brushed a nipple to hardness, then whimpered when he pressed up against her.

“Ransom, we can’t,” she said, pulling his mouth from his. When she turned her head, he went for her neck, his lips moving over the soft skin, his tongue licking where her pulse thrummed madly. “Not here. Do you … have a place where can be alone?”

“It’s close by,” he murmured against her sweet-smelling skin, making blood rush out from his brain. He was angry with himself that he had let her slip away before, that she may have turned to other men in the past couple of months to take care of her needs. That was his fault. But tonight, she was his.

Heart of the Wolf

Releases May 20, 2020

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