Page 203 of Wicked Savage Wolves
“Hunt?” At my blank look he huffs. “Deacon Hunt. The fae you were talking to on your way over here. Why were you talking to him?”
“Am I not supposed to?” I ask, not bothering to answer his question as I head to my next class. I have ten minutes before it starts, but I’d rather Desmond think I don’t have time to talk at the moment. No sense in stroking his ego by pretending I give a damn about what he has to say.
Instead of dropping it, though, he falls into step beside me, his long strides eating the distance and instinctively making me speed up until I realize what I’m doing and force myself to slow down. I am not prey. I don’t run from anyone, and certainly not Desmond. I take a deep breath through my nose and try to release the tension in my body, but it does absolutely nothing for me when he’s standing so close and smelling like … well, him. Urgh. My tiger wants to rub up against him and wrap herself in his scent and it's doing things to my head I definitely don’t like. Why does my beast have to be such a hussy?
“He’s on the team,” he says, and his frown deepens. He slows down once he sees I’m no longer beside him.
“Why is that a problem? You, Rafael, and Jordy are all on the Infernum team too.”
We walk in silence together for several minutes before he finally says, “It’s not the same.”
I bark out a laugh. “I’m sorry. How exactly is it different? Do you have a problem because he’s fae?”
He glowers down at me, but I refuse to be affected.
“You know what they're like. The fae folk will fuck anything that walks. He’s a player and the fact you’re Pack isn’t going to deter him.”
I roll my eyes. “So what. Let him try.” I leave out the fact he already did because I made it clear only friendship was on the table. But seeing Desmond bothered by the idea of anything happening between me and Deacon makes my beast surprisingly happy. “And shifters are any better? Don’t tell me you’re a prude, Des?” I joke. “It’s not like you’re shy about sharing skin privileges.” At least not if the rumors can be trusted. And why does that bother me? I’ve never actually seen Desmond hook up with anyone or look like he’s going to. Not at gatherings or parties. He always arrives alone and leaves the same way, keeping to himself and those of Clan Wolf, but I hear the way the other females in the Pack talk about him. And I know my brother and how frequently a new woman visits his bed. Shifter guys, especially when they’re young and in their prime like Desmond is now, are absolute man sluts taking full advantage of the tactile nature of their beasts and leaning into their animal instincts to fuck anyone that catches their eye. They’re definitely in no position to judge a fae for getting around when they do the same thing. Not that I’m judging, really. I know our beasts heighten our needs. I’ve just never wanted to get around, and despite my tiger being a hussy, she seems to only be a hussy for one particular asshole.
A growl rumbles deep in his chest and catches my tigress’s attention. She immediately perks up. “I don’t share them with just anyone.”
The admission brings a smile to my face.
“Right—” I draw the word out, not really sure how else to respond. “Are you struggling now that two of your besties have settled down? Must be hard to catch the ladies without your wingmen by your side these days.”
Desmond’s gaze sharpens. “I’m not a man-whore and I don’t need a wingman to catch a girl’s attention.”
No. I’m sure he doesn’t. “Whatever you say.”
His teeth grind together. I shouldn’t like upsetting him as much as I do. He’s our Pack Hunter. If anything, I should respect him. But hell, all I want is to go to war with him.
“I don’t have to explain myself to you.”
“Ding. Ding. Ding. You are one hundred percent right.”
His eyes widen the smallest amount, but it’s enough to relay his surprise at my words. Oh, he made this too easy and doesn’t even realize it yet.
“And I should respect that. So, I will. Your business is your business. But since you brought it up, let me remind you that I don’t need to explain myself to you, either.” I grin, my smile widening the darker and more hooded his expression gets.
I know Mom always said you should never poke a bear—or in this case, a wolf—but I don’t think she realized just how much fun it could be.
A snarl curls the corners of his mouth.
“Stay away from him.”
I shrug my shoulders. “I’ll consider it.”
“You will?”
I snort. “No.”
He growls deep in the back of his throat. “I’m only looking out for you.”
I roll my eyes. “Why? I don’t need you to. I’m not some fragile human, Desmond. I’m a tiger. One little fae isn’t going to hurt me let alone woo me to his bed after having just met.” I’ve already decided I’m not dating the guy, so it’s a non-issue. Not that I’ll tell him that.
Desmond goes quiet again before he barks out a mocking laugh. Shaking his head, his mouth curls into a cruel smile, the one he seems to wear more and more whenever I’m around. “I shouldn’t be surprised.”
I frown. “Surprised by what?” I ask and then kick myself for being so damn predictable. The smart move would have been to ignore his comment. Not to play right into his hands.
