Page 219 of Wicked Savage Wolves
“Meiying!” A familiar voice barks out my name and instantly my hackles rise. Well, that took longer than expected.Not.
I turn my head to find Desmond, arms folded over his chest and dark eyes ablaze with his wolf. He’s not wearing sunglasses like virtually everyone else here, so I can spot his glare from the edge of the pool and offer him a little wave.
His nostrils flare. I shouldn’t take pleasure in riling him up, but it’s so damn easy.
Dressed in black jogger pants that taper at the ankle and a white crew t-shirt that hugs his broad shoulders and impressive chest, I have to fight the urge not to lick my lips. Has he always looked this good? Who am I kidding? Yes. Of course he has.
He’s wearing his usual red sneakers, but he’s changed his hair. For as long as I’ve known him, Desmond’s kept it braided back over his scalp. Sometimes they’re thick braids. Other times they’re thin. But for the first time, there are no braids. Sometime this week he got his hair cut and damn, it looks good on him.
A line up and fade make his features appear sharper, and he’s added a razor part design. Two parallel lines that start at his temple and slant up enough to form a peak before curving down and back. Almost like a lightning bolt.
“I didn’t think this was really your scene.” I keep my tone casual, my expression carefree, and I thank my lucky stars that I’m far enough away and downwind that my scent won’t carry to him. As a hunter-born, his sense of smell is stronger than most, and he can pick up on emotional scents when he wants to. It’s insanely intrusive, if you ask me.
People are watching our exchange, the girls already trying to figure out how we know one another. This is exactly why I didn’t want him and the other guys here when I moved in. They draw too much attention. Most of the guys here are well built, but none of them has the impressive muscle mass Desmond has, his shifter genes and intense workout schedule giving him an Adonis-like body.
“Get out of the pool.” His voice is hard and his tone is laced with the order of an Alpha.
Too bad he’s not an Alpha. Asshole. “Pass. I’m enjoying myself right here.”
I swear steam comes out of his ears and a snarl curls the edges of his mouth.
“Meiying—” There's a warning there. One I should probably listen to, but where is the fun in that?
“Desmond,” I retort.
His jaw is tight, a vein bulging in his neck. This is too good. Alpha Ze guy—what was his name again? Oh, right, Iggy—is still clinging to my floaty, but his eyes keep bouncing back and forth from me to Des and then back again. I’m not sure what faction he belongs to, but it's clear he’s not interested in messing around with a wolf.
“Hey.” I draw his attention.
He turns, expression a little nervous. Well, shit. That won’t work. I turn my smile up a notch and shift to my side, which gives him a better view of my breasts. “Sorry. He’s so rude. I’m Meiying.” I pick up where we left off, suddenly interested in chatting with the guy.
He swallows hard, eyes locked on my chest.
“So, what year are you?” I ask, and right as I’m about to trail a finger over his arm Desmond snaps, “Rojas. Off limits. Get your ass away from her.”
Iggy jumps back as if he’s been electrocuted and makes quick work of following Des’s orders. “Yeah, man. Of course. I was just, uh, making conversation. You know?”
Desmond doesn’t answer him. He gives Iggy a flat stare before dismissing him with a look that promises pain if he doesn’t hurry the fuck up, and then he turns his attention back to me. “I won’t ask again, Meiying.”
I flip him off. There are a few muffled laughs from the yard, and I spot Deacon and Reed barely keeping themselves in check. Desmond sees them too.Oh, shit.He stalks in their direction.Shit. Shit.
Deacon sees him coming and squares his shoulders, nostrils flaring. The runes on his arms take on an ethereal glow, signaling that he’s drawing on his powers. Double shit. He’s not going to back down. “Des!” I paddle my arms to reach the pool's edge but wind up spinning myself in circles. Navigation on a giant donut is not as easy as it might seem, but one of the guys is nice enough to give me a push to the shallow end and then I’m off. I jump in the thigh deep water. Gah! Cold. And hop up the steps.
Desmond is in Deacon’s face. No clue what he's saying, but it doesn't look like they’re discussing the weather. Everyone is watching. Waiting for fists to fly. But yeah, no. Not happening.
I shove myself between the guys and push Desmond in the chest as hard as I can. He moves back a few steps, but only because he’s willing to.
“Happy now? I’m out.” He’s glaring over my shoulder, still not looking at me. I turn and clear my throat to get Deacon’s attention. His eyes shift and he looks down, and then all of a sudden I’m shoved back behind Desmond and he’s all growly, saying, “Don’t fucking look at her,” like a possessive asshole. As if he has the right to say such a thing.
Then he’s tearing his shirt off his head and shoving it down over mine. When my head pops out he helps me get my arms through the sleeves, and then he’s back to shoving me behind him again. Whoa. He’s seriously losing it right now. I’ve never seen him like this.
“I thought I made myself clear,” he says, voice dipped low and threatening.
“What is your problem, man? She’s not your girl. Back the fuck off.”
Okay, so true, I am most definitely not his girl, but still, even I know that was the wrong thing to say.Idiot.It’s like hewantsto get his ass kicked again. The muscles of Desmond’s back tighten, and wow, is it a good-looking back. Why have I never seen his bare back like this before? I mean I have before a shift, obviously. But, I’ve never taken the time to really look him over.
More heated words are exchanged, but I’m not really paying attention, too intent on tracing the lines between his shoulders and down his back with my gaze. That accomplished, I reach out and begin physically tracing the lines with my finger.
