“Go ahead, get a good look and get the hell out,” she said as he set the bags down on the counter. She began to open up cabinets and the fridge and put the food away, acting as if he wasn’t even there.

“What? No thank you for hauling your groceries?” he teased.

She looked back over her shoulder and raised an eyebrow at him. “Make it quick, wolf boy. I may just change my mind and toss you out.”

It was his turn to give her a raised brow. He was a werewolf in his prime. The most feared Enforcer in North America. Heck, people were downright scared of him. He stood there, all muscle and sinew—there was no way that she could budge him, even if she took a running leap.

“Smirk all you want, I’ve warned you,” she said in a nearly sing-song voice that made him bark out a laugh. She caught him off guard, he liked that.

He was a damned good tracker, it was one of the reasons why he was an excellent Enforcer. He always found his man. Focusing on Rey’s scent, he moved through the house, but the only place that he could get it strongly was in the kitchen near the back door. He continued through the house, through the small living room with the cozy overstuffed couch and side chairs. Pausing, he looked at her living space. It was simple but extremely warm and welcoming. She had great built-in bookshelves. The decoration was at a minimum but what she did have up—some really nice black and white prints—lent a touch of class to the place. He peeked into the spare bedroom, which looked like an office, and then went across the hall and into her bedroom.

Standing in the doorway, he groaned as his senses took in the intimate space. It was soft and feminine. The bed was covered a pale blue fluffy comforter, and pillows in various shades of complementary blue were scattered all over the room. The headboard was white wrought iron and there was a stack of books at least three feet high next to the bed. He took a step inside and her scent hit him right in the balls. He closed his eyes as he breathed her in, the soft vanilla scent of her soap, a bit of citrus from her shampoo. No perfume. Her elemental scent was everywhere and it made the wolf within want to go and roll in her blankets, to coat himself in it.

He shook his head to clear it. Oh no, it was not going to go down this way. He needed to get laid and not by some uptight spinster either. He made a mental note to seek out some company when he went to the Pack house later.

“So? Satisfied Gabriel isn’t hiding in my closet or under my bed?” she asked as she walked down the hallway toward him.

Surprised by her voice, he jumped and turned. “Look, lady, it’s really important that I talk to him.” His annoyance at being so affected by her scent rang through his voice.

She noticed and put her arms over her chest and narrowed her big brown eyes at him. “Stop calling me that,” she snapped.

“So you do have emotions under that hard shell.” He grinned.

She shook her head in disgust. “Look, wolf boy, why do you want to talk to Gabriel? What have you people, er, wolves, done to him?”

He smirked at her. “Wolf boy? You object to lady and then call me wolf boy?”

“I never said I wasn’t a hypocrite. But this is my house so I get the privilege and you don’t. Now, what do you want with Gabriel?”

He sighed and ran a hand through his thick, silky-looking hair, pulling it loose from the thong at his neck. It spilled over his hands and past his shoulders like liquid silk. She could smell his cologne and beneath it, his maleness. He smelled hot and hard—like sex on legs. He smelled dangerous and capable of violence and she had to take a deep breath through her mouth to stop shaking. There was such a ravenous hunger for him that it shocked her into silence for a few moments.