Runaway Wolf Girl

Chapter Four

Holy s**t, she was beautiful.

Rhett stared down at the waitress he held carefully in his roughened hands, unbelieving and unsure just how she ended up there.

One minute he was sitting on a barstool, eating a burger, drinking a beer, and finally unwinding after work- the next thing he knew, he was lunging out of his seat and catching the nearby waitress as she slipped in the puddle of beer that he and Ollie MIGHT have been responsible for spilling... although, that couldn't be proven. Unless there were cameras. But none of that mattered as he stared down at the woman in his arms. He couldn't seem to remember anything- everything else faded away as he took in the waitress's features.

The first thing he noticed was a smattering of freckles splashed across the bridge of her nose. Then his eyes fell on a pair of soft, full lips, slightly parted in surprise. Her hair was dark brown, shot through with hints of chestnut and golden amber. It was held back high in a ponytail and tickled his arms as he held her tight, and felt so soft he wanted to run his fingers through those long strands- a warm, smooth velvet against his work-hewned skin. Her scent was intoxicating, like wildflowers, and a hidden woodland glen mixed with the heat of sun-soaked leaves and century-old bark. She made him think of rushing mountain streams and the cool feel of grass against his back, lying in the shade, the brush of skin and fur-

Her wide eyes looked up at him and he honestly thought he would drown, they were so blue. They looked surprised and innocent... and sad. What had made her so sad, filled those eyes with such sorrow? He wanted to ask her, make her tell him, and he would hunt down whatever was causing her pain and destroy all her demons. He had the urge to touch her face, to hold her so tight she could never escape, and he would never let go, not in a million years, not even if she begged-

Rhett's wolf was whining and trying to get his attention.

You should shutup, Rhett told him grumpily.

She is like us, he told him.

No one is like us, Rhett snarled. Not here. No other wolves. Only Ollie.

Rhett's wolf glared at him, standing tall and bristling. He hated it when Rhett argued with him, which was all the time, if Rhett was being honest. It wasn't like Rhett did it on purpose; he couldn't help that they rubbed each other the wrong way. It was just their personalities. They both wanted to be in charge and they butted heads because of it.

She IS like us, he repeated, stomping his paw against the ground. Rhett winced and his wolf narrowed his gaze, staring hard, so Rhett knew he wasn't backing down. We can't lose her, she belongs with us: a pack.

Rhett sighed. Fine, he allowed. He would check into it, and then, when his wolf was wrong, he would shove it in his smug, hairy face.

Taking a deep breath, Rhett tested the air around the woman he still held tight in his arms. She didn't smell like a wolf. But... she also didn't smell like a human. Dammit, maybe his wolf was on to something- not about her being a wolf, obviously- even Rhett could have figured that much the moment he caught her scent. She clearly didn't smell like a wolf. And Rhett would know, he'd been evading the scent of wolves his whole life. But... there was definitely something different about her.

"Are you alright?" Rhett asked, his voice a little harsher than he intended.

She nodded slowly. He figured he should help her up, finally let go of her, but he found himself frozen, his body unwilling to cooperate and let her go. He didn't think he could stop holding her even though he was beginning to feel a bit self-conscious, looking down at that gorgeous face, her eyes so big and serious, like she could peer inside him and read deep into his soul. He hoped she couldn't read past the surface, that she really wasn't looking into his core. If she went any deeper... she'd find nothing but darkness, and, gods, how he knew it.

Good gods above, how long had he been standing there holding her? She probably thought he was a freak, or a pervert. He was aware of how hard he was becoming down south of his belt, and he silently cursed his hormones. Maybe he was a pervert.

His wolf chuckled.

See? She is beautiful, he told Rhett before adding more fiercely- And she is ours.

That's not how it works, Rhett lectured. You can't claim another person like they're, they're- a piece of meat. She's not a piece of meat.

Right, his wolf agreed. This is true. She is not meat. We cannnot eat her. We must protect her so no one ELSE can eat her. She is ours.

No! That's not okay! Rhett chastised him before giving up. Sometimes it felt like he was talking to a three-year-old instead of a mighty, supernatural entity living inside the recesses of his brain.

You ARE talking to a mighty, supernatural entity living inside the recesses of your brain, his wolf grinned and panted.

You need to be quiet while I figure all this out, Rhett ordered.

Nothing to figure out, his wolf countered. She is like us, she is ours. That is all.

At that point, Rhett decided it was best to ignore him, even though the stubborn side of him wanted to continue to argue. He couldn't stand the thought of his wolf somehow thinking he had won.

"Here," Rhett said, turning his attention to the waitress. "Let's set your back right."

He picked her up with ease and placed her steadily back on her feet.

"Oh," she said, blinking up at him. "Thank you," she stammered.

Her cheeks were bright red and she cleared her throat, looking away, trying to catch her bearings. Turning back to him, she lifted a pair of long dark lashes and he sucked in his breath as she set her wide eyes on his, looking wondering up into his face. "What happened to my tray?"

"Got it, boss," Ollie swooped in, dramatically presenting her with the tray she had nearly dropped in the midst of her fall. All the plates and dishes remained untouched- not a fry out of place. It was like she had never slipped at all.

Rhett glared at Ollie, who raised his brows and grinned back at him. He didn't know why he was so annoyed at his subjective packmate. Maybe it was the fact that when he had caught the tray, he had used his werewolf speed and agility so the tray looked untouched, which was so impossible it would draw attention to them in a way that Rhett did not want. Or... if it was the fact Ollie was standing so close to the pretty waitress. He tried to quell the feeling of possessiveness that was clenching at his gut while he watched Ollie hand the tray back, saw his fingers momentarily graze hers, and he witnessed her blush as she took the tray in her hands, smiling gratefully back at Ollie. All of this pissed Rhett off to no avail, absorbing it with growing angry and a clenched jaw. If he had his way, he would have thrown Ollie against the wall and torn into his hide.

Rhett had never felt such animosity before, not over a woman. Not over anything. And certainly not with Ollie. He loved Ollie like a brother, and Ollie hadn't done anything wrong. Rhett had to be losing his damned mind.

He realized quick as silver: he had to get the hell out of that diner.

"Yeah... Try to be more careful next time," Rhett said with a growl, and rushed out the door before he did something really stupid... like kissing a bewitchingly clumsy waitress.

What the hell was wrong with him?