Page 27

Story: Tempted By the Wolf

Elena raises the glass in front of her and brings it to her lips, but she doesn’t take a drink.

After that, servers appear with huge platters of food — much more food than would be required for ahumanwedding party. Everybody digs in, except for Elena, who just stares at her slice of prime rib as though it’s the most fascinating thing in the world.

I lean in slightly to catch her scent, and the bitter tang of panic coats my tongue. I turn to ask if she wants to get some air, but then the groomsman sitting across from Elena opens his mouth.

“Not very nice of Carmen, throwing you to the wolves,” he says to her. His tone is lighthearted and conversational, but the chatter at the table dies down.

It’s then that I realize Elena’s the only human here.

The other groomsmen chuckle, and my mate pulls a smile that doesn’t quite meet her eyes.

“Elena isusedto being surrounded by animals,” says Carmen loudly, shooting the groomsman a warning look. “She did grow up with Raf and Jake.”

More knowing chuckles.

There’s not a shifter here who doesn’t know Rafael Cabrera Garcia. I try to fly under the radar when I’m in another pack’s territory, but a lot of wolves know me from the shifter fight league.

“Andyou, Carmen,” Rowan adds to his soon-to-be-wife. “Youcan howl with the best of ’em.”

A round of scandalized laughter breaks over the table. Carmen rolls her eyes and shakes her head, blushing despite her best efforts.

“How about you, Elena?” the groomsman presses, waggling his eyebrows. “Are you a screamer?”

The water goblet in my hand shatters, and I hiss as a piece of glass embeds itself in my palm. Water and blood drench the pristine white tablecloth, but Elena seems to be the only one who notices.

“Stop being a perv, Rhett,” Carmen interjects. “Rafael gave me strict instructions to protect Elena from all ofyou.”

Not true, but I like Carmen a little more for telling her fiancé’s friends to back the fuck off.

My hands are shaking with barely contained fury, but I can feel Elena watching me out of the corner of her eye. She’s waiting to see if I’m going to lose my shit, so I busy myself with picking glass out of my hand so I don’t leap across the table and strangle that asshole.

“She doesn’t mind, do you, Elena?” another groomsman teases. “We don’t bite.” He leans forward and lowers his voice to a suggestive whisper. “Not unless you ask us to.”

The wolves break into another round of bawdy laughter,and I grip my fork so hard that the metal starts to bend. Blood is pounding in my temples, but I resist the urge to flip over the table and beat the ever-living daylights out of the whole pack of them. My jumping in to defend Elena’s honor would only embarrass her further.

She’s the only one who seems to notice me bending my fork out of shape. I catch her staring out of the corner of my eye.

“Take it from someone who knows,” Derek breaks in, not looking at Elena as he cuts his meat with savagery. “Elena won’t be asking any of you to do anything. No matterhowlong you date her.”

There’s a scandalized round of “whoas” from the groomsmen, and something inside me snaps.

“That sounds like ayouproblem, not an Elena problem,” I growl, my voice just loud enough for the shifters sitting nearby to hear.

“Whatdid you say to me?” Derek snaps.

I take a deep breath and concentrate on cutting my prime rib into tiny little pieces so I don’t turn the knife on him.

In this moment, I’m grateful for my martial-arts training. Coach always says that emotions have no place in a fight, and I’ve had to learn to shut them down on command.

“I think you heard me just fine.”

Derek’s nostrils flare, and the bitter scent of rage fills my airways. He throws his napkin down on the table and lowers his voice to a furious whisper that nevertheless reaches all the shifters’ ears. “It figures that Elena would enjoy slumming with you. You can take the girl out of La Alma, but you can’t take La Alma out of the girl.”

“Dude,” says Carmen’s fiancé at the same moment I burst to my feet. I don’t have time to think about what I’m doing. I just drive the tip of my steak knife straight through Derek’s right hand.

A roar of pain makes my ears ring, and my skin itches with the urge to shift. My vision has already begun to change, and I know my eyes have lightened to a wolfish arctic blue.

There’s an uproar from the other groomsmen, but I’m distracted by the swish of fabric. Elena turns and flees the table, and I feel her sudden loss of warmth.