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9

WREN

I froze the moment the man walked into the kitchen. It wasn’t the sight of him because I was facing away from the door. It was the scent. Wolf . My animal perked up instantly. But, yet again, she wasn’t poised to fight.

There was no sign of the feral edge I’d experienced with her lately. Instead, it was almost like a mischievous smile spread across her face. My human half didn’t share her reaction. It didn’t matter that the alluring combination of cinnamon and cloves joined the scent of wolf.

My fingers twitched on the table, then slid down to my side. But before I could find the hilt of my blade, fingers curled around my wrist, clamping tightly.

Oh, hell no.

I moved in one swift motion, breaking the contact by bringing my free hand down hard. I instantly slid off the stool, taking up a fighting stance .

“Ender, don’t. She’s a friend,” Puck warned.

The man opposite me narrowed his eyes. “The hell she is.”

I was used to taking stock of opponents and gauging possible threats. I could assess someone in a split second, but something about this male stalled me. Likely the fact that he was nearly six and a half feet of pure muscle. Inky designs peeked out from under the navy tee clinging to his broad chest.

He had hair I was envious of—a deep brown with caramel undertones. The majority of his head was shaved, but it was longer on the top, pulled into a haphazard man bun. His amber eyes held the same glow as his hair.

But I didn’t miss how his hands were falsely relaxed at his sides. That was a lie. The thick, long fingers were ready to do maximum damage.

“Let me pass,” I ground out.

His amber eyes flashed gold. “Who are you, and which of my brothers are you after?”

For a moment, I thought he meant which of their pack I was trying to sleep with, but as one hand shifted behind his back, I knew that wasn’t the case. And I wasn’t about to let him reach for whatever weapon he had there.

Using my small stature and speed to my advantage, I charged forward and grabbed his arm, twisting it behind his back. “Reaching for something?”

“Uh, Birdie?” Puck began, concern bleeding into his voice. “I wouldn’t do that if I were?—”

His words were cut off in a flash as Ender twisted out of my hold as if it were nothing. Dammit. He struck out with a testing blow, which I dodged easily.

“You gave her a fucking nickname already?” Ender accused.

“I like her,” Puck defended. “Which means I’d rather you not murder her in my kitchen.”

I used the moment of distraction to level an uppercut to Ender’s jaw. His head snapped back, but he didn’t seem the least bit affected by the contact. He simply swept his foot out in an attempt to kick my feet out from under me.

I knew the move well. I’d learned it from a cantankerous trainer in New York City. I’d stayed there for six months before the crowded streets nearly did me in. My wolf and I liked fresh air and open spaces too much.

Ender landed a hook shot against my ribs, nearly stealing my breath. Yet something told me he was still holding back. I answered with a palm strike aimed at his nose, but Ender was too quick.

He moved with surprising grace for someone his size, managing to evade the worst of my attacks while dodging kitchen items in his path. We danced around the small space, back and forth, until Ender caught the edge of the skillet, sending it clattering to the floor.

“Aw, man. Seriously?” Puck moaned.

My gaze flicked to him for just a moment, but it was too long. Ender surged forward, grabbed my wrist, and pulled it behind my back in a move similar to the first one I’d used on him. Only there was no way I was escaping this grip.

“Who. Are. You?” he demanded.

I glared up at him. “I work here.”

Surprise flared in Ender’s amber eyes. “No, you don’t.”

“Dude,” Puck said, sending him an exasperated look. “We’ve been gone for over a month. Dina hired a couple of new people.”

Ender’s grip on me loosened a fraction, but his eyes narrowed. “You do a background check on her?”

Panic whipped through me. I’d gotten pretty good at the fake IDs, but I didn’t have a clue how to leave false trails on the internet. It was on my list of things to learn. I just hadn’t gotten there yet. Hell, I hadn’t even been able to finish college. No matter how many times I tried, I always seemed to get derailed.

“Jesus, End. Get a grip. And let the poor girl go,” Puck ordered.

Ender released me, and I flexed my wrist, testing for pain. There wasn’t any. Not really. The man’s gaze swept over me, assessing but without the heat of attraction. Disappointment flared—an emotion I didn’t want to look at too closely.

“Where’d you learn to fight like that?” he asked.

I lifted my chin. “If you think you’ve earned even one damn answer from me, you’re dumber than you look.”

Ender’s eyes flared as Puck chuckled.

“You tell him, Birdie.”

I rolled my eyes at the charmer. “I’m going to set up for the day.” I grabbed the remainder of the grilled cheese still on my plate and headed for the door. “Thanks for the snack.”

But even as I set to work, my mind was on the man who could fight better than anyone I’d ever seen and smelled like walking temptation. None of that was good.