Wulfe Untamed (Feral Warriors #8)(27)

His hand stilled, his eyes changed, slowly darkening, watching her with an intensity that snagged at her breath, that made her body heat and soften.

Longing filled his eyes. “Natalie.”

For one charged moment, she thought he might drop his tools and reach for her. And she wanted that. Badly.

Instead, his eyes filled with frustration and he returned to his task. “Why don’t you unpack while I finish here?”

For a moment, she just watched him, her brows drawn with confusion. He’d reared back when she kissed his cheek, as if her touch was anathema. But just now, she’d seen longing in his eyes, she knew that. She read eyes too well to doubt herself. And yet . . .

“All right.” She got such mixed signals from him. Or maybe she just didn’t know how to read a werewolf. And, honestly, she was probably too tired to get anything straight right now.

Unpacking quickly, she laid her clothes in the dresser drawers and set her toiletry bag on the sink in the small private bathroom, then hung up the towels Delaney had brought with the sheets. Last, she opened the little canvas bag Delaney had left behind and found hand soap, body soap, a toothbrush, toothpaste, shampoo, conditioner, and half a dozen other female necessities including a fat Toblerone candy bar and an index card with a handwritten note across it. If I forgot anything, just yell. D.

Natalie smiled at the offering. They were treating her far more like a welcome guest than the unexpected problem that she was. Probably because she was Xavier’s sister and they were clearly fond of him.

Her heart tightened, tears burning her eyes, as the joy of finding him well and happy rushed through her all over again. A single tear escaped, and she swiped it away.

“Natalie?”

She turned to find Wulfe watching her with concern in those dark, gentle eyes.

“I’m fine.” She smiled. “The best I’ve been in weeks. I have my brother back, even if only for a little while. You have no idea what a gift you’ve given me.”

He watched her intently. “There’s nothing I want more than for you to be happy.”

Sincerity throbbed in his words. And she wondered what he’d say if she told him that his taking her into his arms would make her very happy indeed. She wouldn’t put him on the spot like that. Nor did she want to find out it was the last thing he wanted.

But the thought of being that close to him tantalized.

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

Natalie’s voice, low and sexy, stroked Wulfe’s senses. I rather like you without clothes on. Goddess, had he ever received a clearer or more welcome invitation? Her eyes had beckoned without coyness. Natalie wanted him. She wanted him.

And he had nothing to give. The severing of his mating bond had ruined him in that way. In a lot of ways. His senses had dimmed—his eyes losing their ability to see color as brightly, food losing its taste. Only his sense of smell had yet to fail him, but his libido had disappeared altogether. He could still get an erection if he needed to, but it required hard physical effort on his part. His body hadn’t risen on its own in six months, not for any woman. And he feared it never would again. Even Natalie, as pretty as she was, failed to stir him in that way.

With not quite steady hands, Wulfe picked up his tools and strode past her. The windows were done. All he had left was the door.

“Have you ever installed a dead bolt?” His arms ached to grab her and haul her close, his wolf howling, urging him to do just that. But he refused to go down that path with her. No good could come of it.

“I’ve never installed one from scratch,” Natalie said, falling into step beside him. “But I replaced one once.”

The faint scent of her arousal nearly drove him to his knees.

“Then you know what we’re doing. I could use a hand.” Goddess. The thought of where he wanted her hand . . . Yeah and how much fun would that be when she found him flaccid and soft?

If he were smart, he’d send her to the other side of the room where her nearness wouldn’t tie him into knots of longing and of wanting something he couldn’t have. But he wanted her near him so badly, it was worth any amount of torture to watch the play of light on her creamy skin, to smell the tangy scent of shampoo in her hair, and to watch her full, lovely mouth draw up in those soft, Natalie smiles.

She followed him to the door, and he handed her the lock pieces, screws, and screwdriver, his fingers brushing hers as he laid them in her palms, the simple touch sending electricity buzzing beneath his skin and down into his body. But not far enough. Not nearly far enough.

Eyeing the door, he mentally marked where he wanted to drill, then picked up the tool and made the holes with a noisy whine. Then he grabbed the chisel and hollowed out a space for the faceplate to fit, all the while intensely aware of Natalie’s nearness, of her gaze. And of the attraction thickening the air between them. Goddess how he wanted to haul her against him and bury his face between her br**sts. How he longed to feel her fingers in his hair as he had in his fur.

He imagined holding her close, stroking her soft cheek as she reached up . . .

The thought of her touching his scarred excuse for a face burst the sensual bubble, snapping him back to reality. His life was too f**ked up to even think about getting involved with a woman right now. And never a woman like Natalie, one who deserved laughter and beauty, safety and happiness. He’d thought she’d found those things with her human fiancé. The fact that she hadn’t made the jealous male inside of him keenly satisfied. But not the part of him that just wanted her happy. Because he, with his damaged mating bond, his worrisome Daemon blood, and his waning immortality, had absolutely nothing to offer her.