Lycan on the Edge: Broken Heart Book 13 (6 page)

Trent smiled ruefully.

Despite her strong reaction to him, Trent knew

Sophie suspected him of some chicanery. She

wouldn’t be pleased with his false pretenses.

Besides, Trent sensed Sophie was not a one-night

stand kind of woman. He suspected she wasn’t

even a have-an-affair kind of woman. No, Sophie

Lennox had an invisible sign that read “For Long

Term Commitment Only.”

He supposed that was a boon, in a way,

because they would need each other for a while. In

these modern times, werewolves were not

superstitious, but some were old enough to

remember the Alberich, and his own sordid tale.

He winced as he thought of his wife, Laura, gone

almost a century now. He’d wished for his own

death for nearly a decade after hers. But as the

years passed, he’d been able to let go. Being

without her no longer hurt. And there lay a

conundrum. If she’d been his true mate, he

wouldn’t have gotten over her at all. He’d

witnessed the way Damian loved Kelsey, and it

was not the same as with Damian’s former wife.

Granted that had been an arranged marriage. Yet,

Kelsey and Damian were connected at a soul-deep

level. So, on top of the guilt that he’d failed to

protect Laura was this new burden: That she had

not been his true mate.

Trent turned away from those painful thoughts,

and refocused on Sophie. If there had been another

werewolf like him, someone who could help take

his pain, would he have accepted the help?

Sophie’s trauma had been different from his own.

Surely her pain was something she longed to let go.

He hoped the moment to tell her about his true

purpose and his psychic healing abilities would

come sooner than later.

Trent pounded the pillow again, and gave up

trying to fluff it.

Sleep would not come easy tonight. He rolled

off the bed and moved to the window, looking out

into the backyard. The branches of a huge oak tree

rose to meet the night sky; its leafy foliage blocked

part of the glittering stars. The creak of the tire-

swing rope made him look down. Sophie clung to

the tire, her laughter soft as she twirled around and

around, her ponytail whipping about. She wore a

shirt and jeans, her feet bare. Her enticing long

legs stretched out, and then she grasped the top of

the tire and leaned back.

His heart lurched. He watched her, envying the

damn tire every time she scooted her sweet little

bottom forward and back.

He couldn’t resist her. He told himself this was

the most relaxed he’d ever seen her, and would be

a good time to try and reach her.

But the truth was, he just wanted to be near her.

He dressed in a pair of shorts and a tank top

and went outside barefoot. October was chilly in

Oklahoma, but werewolves ran hot.

Too hot.

He approached her and asked, “Need a push?”

“Oh!”

He

barely

registered

Sophie’s

startled

expression when the tire swung around, bringing

her fabulous legs into brutal contact with his all

too sensitive groin. Pain exploded. He bent over,

his breath leaving his body in a strangled whoosh.

“I’m sorry,” cried Sophie. She extracted

herself from the swing and hovered at his side,

patting his back.

“Do you want to sit down?”

“No,” he groaned, working hard not to vomit.

“Let me die in peace.”

“Oh, Trent. I didn’t mean to.” Obviously

distressed, she moved to stand in front of him and

rubbed his shoulders. “What can I do?”

The pain eventually receded to a dull ache, and

Trent slowly straightened. Thank God she hadn’t

had more momentum, or he’d be worried about the

ability to make werewolf babies. He looked down

at her. Her eyes were filled with remorse and

concern. She continued rubbing his shoulders. He

captured her hands and pressed them to his chest.

“That’s not where it hurts.”

She sharply inhaled as she glanced at the front

of his shorts. “Well, I’m not rubbing anything down

there.”

He chuckled. “I didn’t intend for you to,

Sophie.” But he wouldn’t have stopped her if she’d

wanted to give it a try.

Her hands felt small and warm under his. His

heart pounded triple time, and his throat felt dry.

Moonlight trickled through the oak’s foliage, but it

barely penetrated the cocoon of darkness. He felt

like he and Sophie were the only two people in the

world. She looked at him, a question in her eyes.

Her hands grew restless, but his fingertips stroked

the soft skin, and she stilled.

Don’t do this,
Trent, whispered Logic.
It’ll

complicate everything.

“May I kiss you?” he asked.

You are so stupid,
hissed Logic.

She stared at him. “What?”

“I’ve wanted to kiss you since I met you.”

Trent looped her arms around his neck, relieved

when she left them there. He grasped her waist,

hands trembling. He felt close to something

important.

World-changing.

Sophie.

The sweet weight of her breasts pressed

against him, and despite his recent “accident,” his

body stirred at her nearness. She looked up at him,

almost shyly, and he watched the play of emotions

on her face. Trent lowered his head, his mouth only

a whisper away, and waited, hoping Sophie would

decide his lips were worthy of hers.

SOPHIE WAS DESPERATELY tempted by Trent’s

magnificent mouth. She was afraid of the rapid

pounding of her heart, afraid of the wobbly feel of

her knees, afraid of the attraction to the handsome

man before her asking so sweetly for a kiss.

She closed the distance and brushed her lips

against his.

Electricity jolted straight through her right

down to her toes. Her arms tightened around his

neck, and he took the hint, drawing her more

deeply into his embrace. His lips took hers again

and again until he split the seam of her mouth with

his tongue, and started a dance that made heart

pour through her. Her fingers slid through his soft,

wavy hair and she pressed even harder against

him. She felt his heart thundering against her own.

Pheromones thickened the air, the musky scent

of their mutual need building their desire to new,

desperate fiery heights.

Trent regained control first.

He pulled away, just a little, his chest heaving

as he tried to steady his breathing. He had a dazed

look in his eyes and his lips held the plumpness of

a mouth well-kissed. If she needed any other

evidence of his desire, she needed only to focus on

the thick length of his cock bulging through his

shorts and against her stomach.

Sophie followed his lead and attempted to get

her hormones under control.

She focused on the wind-strewn leaves

cavorting on the ground. Sophie watched their

dance, slightly mesmerized, as she tried to calm the

jitters running through her.

“Sophie?” Trent’s deep voice sounded both

reassuring and maddening sensual.

She faced him. “I don’t think I’m ready for this.

Whatever this is. I’m…just…you know.” She

frowned and rubbed her forehead. She wasn’t

making any sense. The man even affected her

sentence structure.

“I’m not sorry we kissed,” said Trent. “But I’ll

back off. I want you to trust me.” He brushed a

loose strand of hair from her cheek. “Do you

believe I want to help you?”

She gazed up at him. Unable to discern the

emotions on his shadowed features, she decided he

sounded sincere. Sophie nodded slowly. “I believe

that. But trust is another issue.”

“I understand.”

He let her go, and stepped away. She

immediately missed his warmth, not to mention the

feeling of being wanted. Her feelings skittered

close to the edge of true caring.

Suddenly, a low throb started in her head. She

rubbed her temples. The ache sharpened, drawing

a hiss of pain from her.

“What’s wrong?”

“Headache.”

The pain increased, nearly buckling her knees.

Trent steadied her. “Do you have headaches

often?”

“No, I—” Sudden fear froze her. Eyes wide,

she looked at him. His gaze darkened with

concern. “The last time I felt this way, the Alberich

attacked.” Panic rioted through her. “No. Not in

Broken Heart. We’re safe here. Right?” She started

shaking, her teeth clacking together.

He placed his fingertips on her temples. He

looked at her, his expression calm, his gaze steady.

“Look at me, Sophie.”

She obeyed his gentle command and stared

deeply into his eyes.

“Stay with me,” he said very, very softly.

“I’m here,” she whispered. “Right here.”

Sophie felt warmth where Trent’s fingers

rested on her scalp. The warmth turned into a

pleasant tingling, and she felt the panic pulled from

her like air escaping from a balloon. As she stared

at Trent, his warm brown eyes turned a fiery gold,

pure and bright, and as every second passed, she

felt calmer.

Then Trent closed his eyes and let go of her

head, stepping back. She watched gold tears leak

from his eyes and wiggle like spastic worms over

his body. They sank into Trent’s flesh, lighting his

skin briefly before disappearing all together.

“What just happened?” she asked.

Trent opened his eyes, and he looked

exhausted. “I think you’ll sleep better now.”

“Are you some kind of magical werewolf?”

He laughed. “No. Not really. I have an ability

to absorb pain.” He swayed before steadying

himself. “I need to rest now.”

She had questions, a lot of questions, but Trent

appeared pale and utterly exhausted. Her worry for

him stopped her from pummeling him for answers.

Her concern grew as she saw him sway. She

reached out and grabbed his shoulder, trying to

steady him. “Are you all right?”

“It’s been a while since I’ve done this,” he

said. “I forgot how it felt.”

“Do you want me to help you up the stairs?

“I’ll be fine.” He took her hand off his shoulder

and lifted it to his lips for a gentle kiss. “Good

night, Sophie.”

“Good night, Trent.”

He turned and walked slowly toward the

garage, obviously in pain, as he limped up the

stairs. She wanted to catch up to him, to help him

somehow, but he’d made it clear that he didn’t

want her help. There was a big part of her that was

completely freaked out about watching gold tears

swim into his skin. But she felt better. Unnaturally

so.

What the hell had Nana and Queen Patsy

cooked up?

And who…or what…was Trent Clayton?

CHAPTER FOUR

THE PHONE RANG. Sophie groggily opened one

eye. It rang again, and she groaned. She’d slept

well for the first night since, well, ever. Whatever

mojo Trent used to take her pain, she was grateful.

Weirded out, but totally appreciative.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

She grabbed the receiver. “What?”

“Sophie! How are you, darling?”

“Brianna. It’s...” Sophie tried to find her cell

phone and check the time but soon gave up.

“Morning.”

“It’s almost brunch, darling. Come to Zerina’s

and catch up. I have mimosas.”

Sophie usually enjoyed Brianna’s impromptu