Savage Urges (The Phoenix Pack #5) - Suzanne Wright Page 0,2
slim build fitting into the groove between his broad shoulders and her head resting just beneath his chin, she felt totally surrounded.
Her wolf should have felt threatened. She didn’t though, as she was a little distracted by the dark animal energy that hummed beneath his skin and his delicious scent: rich hazelnut, smoky sandalwood, and a dark sexuality. Makenna could admit it was rather distracting. “Sure thing. But I’ll need you to release me first.” In truth, she could easily escape his hold. But it would serve her best to let him believe she was helpless.
“I’ll release you when you answer me.”
“I just need to talk to you.”
“So talk.” His thumb circled her throat in a movement that was surprisingly arousing.
“Look, I’m on a bit of a schedule here—”
“Who sent you? What pack are you from?”
If she revealed she was a lone wolf this early in the conversation, she’d most likely be sent on her way. “Nobody sent me. I just need to speak with you.”
A pause. “You have five minutes.”
“I’m gonna need at least ten.”
“I mean you have five minutes to convince me not to snap this pretty little neck.” He punctuated that with a flex of his grip.
She sensed that he wasn’t kidding. Well, of course he wasn’t. She was a perfect stranger, she’d been following him, and he had all the instincts of an enforcer. A threat to an enforcer was a threat to their pack. As such, they would never hesitate in eliminating one. “Hey, if you really want me to walk away, fine. But then you’ll never know what was so important to make me trail you like this.”
He grunted. It was a sound that said, “So?”
“Damian Lewis was your cousin. Correct?” He didn’t respond, but she knew she was right. “As I’m sure you know, he died six years ago. His mate died shortly after, unable to survive the breaking of the mating bond, leaving their son to the care of their pack.” She licked her lips. “Zac left his pack six months ago, and he point-blank refuses to return. He’s been staying at a shelter for loners for the past four months.” Ryan still said nothing. “Are you going to let go of me now?”
“No.” He circled his thumb over her throat again, increasing the buzz of arousal beneath her skin. “What does this have to do with you? Are you from his pack?”
“No, I’m a volunteer at the shelter.”
He growled, “You’re a loner?”
As his grip tightened—not enough to hurt but enough to reassert his dominance—Makenna sighed. “Okay, I get it. You’re a big, bad, scary wolf, and your proverbial dick is bigger than mine. I’m officially intimidated.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
His mouth moved even closer to her ear, until he was almost nibbling on her lobe. “That’s a lie. I don’t like it when people lie to me. Don’t do it again.”
As Ryan Conner released her and took a single step back, she turned to face him. Big black-flecked cognac eyes that held a hint of something wild met his steadily; they acted as a punch to his gut and heightened the oppressive, sexual need that struck him the moment he’d inhaled her scent.
She was a pretty little thing. Shiny with all those bangles and dangly earrings. Her slender body was supple, sinuous, and fit just right against his own. He itched to fist his hands in her long, beach-layered waves—a mix of gold, copper, dark red, and a hint of plum purple, making him think of autumn leaves.
While she stood there looking quirky and feminine in a vintage maroon dress that showcased smooth tanned legs he wanted wrapped around him, it would be easy to overlook her strength and keen eyes. But Ryan knew when he was looking at something dangerous. There was something almost . . . untamed about the female in front of him.
Officially intimidated by him? He almost snorted. She’d had a hand wrapped around her throat, an aggressive wolf at her back, and been trapped against a wall. Yet, she hadn’t bristled. Hell, her heart rate hadn’t even gone up. He doubted much fazed this female at all. He had the distinct feeling that if he were to attack her, she would go crazy on his ass—not come at him with combat moves but with street-fight moves. Scrappers fought dirty and wild.
The fact that she was a lone shifter should have dulled his arousal. They weren’t to be trusted—it was a well-known fact. His cock didn’t seem to care about that.