Calmly, Smitty explained, “That’s for trying to threaten me.”
Before the polar’s companions could move, Smitty unleashed the claws of his right hand and brought it down on the bear’s Achilles tendon—shredding it with one swipe.
“And that’s for denting the hood of my truck with your fat ass,” he added, still calm, over the bear’s howls of unspeakable pain.
One of the females stared at Smitty as he stood up. She towered over him, but the fear on her face matched everyone else’s. “You... You’re a Smith, aren’t you?”
Smitty flicked his hand, the blood flying pretty much everywhere. “Why do you ask?”
“I met you people before. Smiths.” She said it with disgust and undeniable fear.
“Yeah, I’m a Smith. Out of Tennessee. And I want y’all off my truck.”
They got off his truck all right. They moved like lightning.
“Jessie Ann.”
She walked out from behind the tree and over to the truck. She didn’t run. She didn’t have to. The Smith name alone had put the fear of God into these people, parting them like the Red Sea.
Smitty held the door open for her and she stepped into the truck. He closed the door and walked around to his side. He got in, started her up, and backed out.
No one stopped them. No one did anything. And she had no doubt no one would.
Smitty drove about five miles until he saw an old gas station. So old it was still full service. He told the kid pumping gas to fill his tank and then disappeared into the bathroom.
After ten minutes, Jess followed him. She knew that look on his face. Remembered it clearly. He got it anytime he had to use the brutal tactics drummed into him by Bubba Smith. The bear had forced that on Smitty, and now she had one less-than-happy wolf on her hands.
When she opened the bathroom door, which he hadn’t bothered to lock, she found him standing at the sink and staring into it. He hadn’t turned on the water, and blood still covered his right hand.
Jess slowly walked up to him, knowing better than to startle him or make any sudden moves. When she felt confident he knew she was standing next to him, she turned on the water in the sink and took his right hand in both of hers. She held them under the water, slowly washing the bear’s blood from his fingers. She took her time, grateful they had liquid soap from a pump rather than a bar she’d be loathe to use. Especially since this place didn’t scream “antibacterial clean” to her.
When she removed all the blood from his right hand, she washed his left for the hell of it. Then she took paper towels from the stack on the counter and dried his hands. Once done with that, she dried her own hands and tossed the paper towels away. She grabbed the sleeve of his jacket and forced him to face her.
“Smitty?” When he didn’t answer her, she said, “Bobby Ray. Look at me.”
He did and she literally forced herself not to run. This was Bobby Ray. He’d never hurt her. Even with his eyes shifted to wolf, he’d never hurt her. She knew that.
So when his hand whipped out and grabbed her by the back of the neck, she didn’t even scream.
He had to stop. He had to stop now. But, Lord knew, he couldn’t. He couldn’t make himself stop. All she’d shown him was the ultimate kindness in the last ten minutes. The kind of kindness only a dog could show. She should be terrified of him. She should be screaming and fighting him. But she wasn’t. She just kept staring up at him with those big, brown, innocent eyes. Those innocent eyes trusting him to do the right thing.
He didn’t. Instead, he slammed her back against the wall and forced his mouth on hers. Her arms flailed for a moment, but instead of fighting him off, she wrapped them around his neck and pulled him closer. He kissed Jessie hard, his tongue pushing its way in, demanding she respond. She did. She moaned and gasped and held him tighter.
Her hands dug into his hair and one leg wrapped around his waist. She writhed against him, letting him know she was all his. To do with as he would. Anything. She trusted him enough to give him anything and everything.
Snarling, Smitty pulled back, spun her around so she faced the wall. His hands unsnapped and unzipped her jeans in seconds, pulling them down until they were around her knees. He slipped his hands between her legs, his fingers sliding inside her. He growled like a rabid animal when he found her already wet and hot. He pulled his fingers back and stroked her clit. In less than thirty seconds he had her coming, crying out his name as he took her over again. With his other hand he yanked her jacket past her shoulder. He licked his lips, his fangs bursting from his gums. He leaned over her, wrapping his jaw around her exposed flesh.
She trembled in his arms. Trembled and panted and waited. Waited for him to take her like this. To do what the females of the Smith Pack referred to as the Smith mate-maul. Was he really going to do this to Jessie Ann? The woman who’d just washed the blood off his hands and accepted the fact that he’d mercilessly ripped the Achilles tendon off another being?
No. She deserved better than this.
Using absolutely everything he’d learned from his military training, he let her go.
He pulled his hands away and stepped away from her, like a recovering addict stepping away from his heroin.
Jessie looked over her shoulder at him. “Smitty?”
“Get dressed. I’m taking you home.” He walked to the sink and washed his own damn hands this time. By the time he dried them and turned around, she’d already walked out.
She wanted to cry. She really did. But she learned early on from her days in Smithtown that the quickest way to lose respect was to cry. So she kept her tears for her Pack because they understood her and they accepted her.
She couldn’t wait to get home. She wanted her people. She wanted out of this truck. She wanted away from the bastard who just broke her heart.
Because no one wanted to find out they weren’t good enough. Especially when she had to find out like that. Her body still shaking from climaxing, her pants around her knees like a goddamn truckstop whore.
The truck door opened and Smitty got in. She didn’t say anything. There was nothing to say. Instead, she placed her hands between her knees to control the trembling, prayed there would be no traffic on the freeways home, and wished with all her geeky might that she could portal her black, wild-dog ass out of here.
CHAPTER 20
What she loved about her Pack was that she really didn’t have to tell them anything. They might not know exactly what was wrong, but they knew when she needed them.
As soon as she stepped out of the truck, May opened the front door for her. Jess walked in without bothering to look back. Smitty had barely spoken two words to her on the way into the city; she doubted he’d have anything to say now. Once inside, she shifted and went out the back. She sat in the cold, staring out across the yard trying to figure out how everything went bad so damn fast.
Before she could get a really good wallow going, Phil whistled for her and she trotted back in the house, up the stairs to her top-floor apartment, and into her bathroom. They had the bubble bath waiting for her and a box of her favorite chocolates. She went into the water as dog, but when she came up, she was human again. They let her soak in silence for a few minutes before Sabina asked what happened. As her four friends sat on the bathroom floor, she told them pretty much everything.
“Aw, sweetie. I’m sorry.” May leaned against the tub, handing Jess chocolates.