Wild Hunger (The Phoenix Pack, #7)(17)

While he studied her sculptures, Frankie studied him. Trick Hardy was something of a mystery to her. Why? Because she could sense that he did his best to downplay his dominance around her. It was a futile effort. He had a powerful presence. The air in the studio seemed charged with the compelling intensity that practically bounced off his skin like tiny little sparks. He could play the easygoing charmer all he wanted, but she wasn’t buying it. Not even with his slow, lazy smiles and the sexy swaggering gait.

Trick turned to her, surprised to find her watching him. “Jesus, Frankie, how did you make this stuff? Every piece is both eerie and captivating at the same time.” Her cheeks reddened at the compliment. Trick skimmed a knuckle over one of them, felt the heat of her blush. “Not used to people admiring your work, are you?” It made him wonder . . . “Do your grandparents approve of what you do?”

“Why wouldn’t they?”

“Neither of them are arty people, from what I remember. I just wondered if they’d find it hard to understand that you have a passion.” As her mouth clamped shut, Trick nodded and trailed the tip of his finger over the row of piercings on her ear. “Okay, I get it, you don’t want to bad-mouth them to someone you barely know. Loyalty is good.” He wanted some of that loyalty for himself.

Frankie stepped back, a little uncomfortable with how casually he touched her. No, a little uncomfortable that it didn’t bother her wolf the way it should. The animal generally didn’t like having her personal space invaded, but she didn’t seem to mind sharing it with Trick. “You’re pretty tactile, even for a shifter.”

“You’ll get used to it. Your wolf will let you know if I’m taking it too far. Has she ever surfaced?”

“Sure.”

“How old were you when it first happened?”

“Thirteen.” And she’d been scared out of her mind, because she hadn’t known what to do.

Trick’s eyes narrowed. “Tell me you didn’t do it alone.” Her eyes slid away, and he growled. “No one should be alone during their first shift. I’m sorry you were.” And he felt like shit about it. He was her mate; he should have been there. If she hadn’t gone to live with the Newmans, he would have been there. Those humans had a lot to fucking answer for. “So you’re not used to being around shifters?”

“Nope.”

“How does your wolf feel around me? Threatened? Edgy?”

“She likes you.”

He smiled, since he’d half expected her to claim that her wolf didn’t want him around. “I like that you’re honest, Frankie. Far too many people aren’t.” Closing the distance between them in one fluid stride, Trick traced her cheekbones with his thumbs, all the while drinking in every curve, every line, every dent, every freckle on her face. “I’d like to sketch you.”

“Is that what they’re calling it these days?”

Trick laughed. His wolf was delighted with her. She was unexpected in the best ways. “I’m serious. I like sketching. It relaxes me. The same way I’m thinking that sculpting relaxes you.”

Her nose wrinkled. “It’s not relaxing in a way that makes me feel peaceful.”

“Then how?”

Since he sounded genuinely interested, she replied, “I can disappear in it. It’s energizing and tiring and rewarding.”

Noticing she was flexing and wiggling her fingers, he frowned. “What’s wrong with your hand?”

“It just gets stiff.” She dismissed it with a flick of her wrist, but he took her hand and began massaging it. Damn if it didn’t feel good. Still . . . “I’m not going to sleep with you.”

His mouth slowly curled on one side. “That’s all right. I’m not going to sleep with you either.”

“So why are you here, flirting with me and stuff, if you don’t want me?”

“I didn’t say that I don’t want you. I said I’m not going to sleep with you. That’s just too light a term for what I’m going to do to you.”

A blush crept up her neck. “Oh really?”

“Really.” Using his grip on her hand, he pulled her closer and spoke in a low voice. “I’m going to take you. Possess you. Fuck you so hard you’ll never want anyone else. And when we’re done, I’ll do it again.”

Damn if her pussy didn’t clench at that. Frankie narrowed her eyes. “Cocky.”

Trick put his finger to her mouth. “Don’t say it won’t happen, or when you do give in to me—and you will, Frankie—you’ll think it makes you weak. You’re not weak. I wouldn’t want you if you were.” He shrugged, adding, “Some things are simply inevitable. Me taking you is just one of those things.”

Her stomach fluttered. Not just at his declaration, but at the way those brown eyes drifted over her face, warm and possessive. It made her wolf release a low growl of contentment, which was out of the norm. Frustrated and horny, Frankie jutted out her chin. “I have work to do.”

Sensing her arousal, Trick smiled, satisfied. “All right.” He pressed a kiss to her palm and then released it. “I told you I’m not here for Lydia or Iris, and I’m not. But I want to say one thing about it. I know this situation is fucked up and you’re not sure what to think, feel, or believe. But I get the sense that if Iris died tomorrow before you had the chance to meet her, you’d regret that you didn’t. Am I right?”