His smile was wicked, and she was mesmerized as his tongue darted out to wet his lower lip.
She'd been trapped, pinned down by his size and proximity, and all she could do was breathe. She couldn't help but look at his face, his eyes, and his lips, which had touched hers. Luthor was the moon, and she was in his gravitational pull. Part of her would do anything to be closer to him.
That didn't mean she wanted to, however.
She swallowed and pushed down the bond. It was biology. Nothing but biology. He snarled low in his throat, and she was sure that he would devour her.
"Say the word, and I'll back off."
"The word," she spat.
He scoffed, but for a moment, she could have sworn that she also saw disappointment on his face. His scent was causing her to squirm out of her skin, an unwelcome hunger coming to life between her thighs. Finally, just when she was sure that her willpower wouldn't hold out much longer, Luthor stepped back. She was relieved to have the space to breathe and to push the bond down again.
There were so many things that she wanted to say, but with Luthor standing so close, she knew that she needed to be alone. He simply stood and watched as she sprinted across the hall to her bedroom, slamming the door behind her before sliding down it until she was sitting on the floor with her head in her hands.
How in the world was she going to escape this situation? More to the point, how in the world was she going to escape this situation without ending up in her arch-nemesis' bed?
It had been three days since he'd brought Sharon and Alexander home, and it was going as well as could be expected with a new wife who longed to rip out his throat.
After the first celebration, which he'd attempted to make as welcoming and warm as possible for his mate and son, everyone was back to their usual schedule. His pack, for the most part, was tolerant of Sharon. That, after all, was the least he could expect from them as their alpha, but he wasn't blind to how Sharon had been treated before she left town.
Her parents were both mediocre shifters, neither of them very dominant, but Sharon showed absolutely no shifting ability during her entire time with the Tenzclaw. There had been whispers that the Sparks' only daughter had been born human, and it had been wielded as an instrument of ridicule against her.
On his side, he did not go out of his way to be cruel to her, but he was not interested in wasting his time at all on a weak, no-name pack member. Was he cold to her? Yes. But it was the same with everybody who did not benefit him either personally or as a pack leader.
It was a shock when she revealed herself as an Omega and went into heat, and an even greater shock when he was unable to stay away from her. Even now, when she was not in heat, her smell was sending him up and down the walls of his own home. His mate smelled like sweet lemon candy, and his mouth literally watered for her.
The minute he woke up, he sought any excuse to get a bit of fresh air, which was how he'd ended up outside on a sunny spring morning washing his Jeep.
The sun beat down on his bare shoulders, and for the moment, everything was still. The pack was safe, and his Omega and son were under his roof. For the first time since discovering Sharon had fled with his heir, he felt a measure of peace.
He was still trying to adjust to the change in Sharon, and her newfound stubbornness irritated him at times, but it was also pleasant to see her not cowering or afraid.
Then there was Alexander. The child was curious about everything he did and took every chance to be his shadow no matter what he was doing. He peppered him with a million questions regarding shifter life, the pack, Crystal Creek, and anything else he could think of. He was so innocent and curious that it shook something loose in him. He should still be mad that Sharon kept him from him—hell, a large part of him still was—but the wild, possessive, Alpha part of him just wasn't. He was just glad he had them both now. Right where they belonged.
"Still brooding, boss?"
He didn't start when Deborah spoke from behind him, but it was a close thing. His cousin wasn't difficult to find on that sunny morning—short and softly built, with a neon blue hoodie featuring some anime character on the front, and blond curls piled into a messy bun on her head, Deborah was the least unwerewolf-looking wolf he'd ever met. She came bearing apologies for freaking the hell out of him—a stack of papers and a drink carrier with two coffees.
Taking the coffee first, he took a long sip before telling her, "You're supposed to call before you come over."
"And you're also meant to answer when I do," she retorted, shoving the stack of papers into his hands, not even allowing him time to dry them off. "Pack finances, border patrols, and a status report on those rogue shifter sightings. Apart from forgetting your phone, you're doing all right, big guy."
"I don't pay you to smart-mouth, Naye."
"Yeah, yeah," she brushed him off with a wave of her hand and snagged a car wash wand, getting to work on his Jeep. He shook his head but couldn't stop a small smile from creeping out.
Deborah was weird and sassy, but she was one hell of an assistant, and there was nobody he trusted more with his finances. When his great-grandfather first founded the pack in Crystal Creek, he'd bought up a bunch of land. The houses he built on those plots of land brought in enough rent money to keep his family well off for generations. It was still pouring in regularly, but he was the last one of his family left, and he could definitely use some help getting it all organized. On top of pack politics, a helper like Deborah was a blessing.
"So," she started, scrubbing at a tough stain on his Jeep hood. "What's the strategy on the Omega——Sharon? How do we know we can trust her?"