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He shakes his head slowly. “No. Not at all. Just…”
I press my lips together, then prompt, “Just?”
“Defenseless,” he murmurs. “Everything you think and feel shows on your face.”
I swallow, guilt and a whisper of fear swirling in my chest as I hope at least a few things are staying under wraps.
“Not everything,” I say, fighting the urge to spill my guts. Confession isn’t always good for the soul and it certainly won’t help me stay alive. At least not until I can figure out a way to do it without destroying the good will Maxim and I are building. “And I’m not defenseless, just transparent. But I think that’s a good thing. People shouldn’t be ashamed of their feelings, and it’s hard enough to form a connection with another person as it is. If you hide what you’re really feeling…” I shrug. “Well, that makes it a lot harder to find your folks.”
His eyes narrow. “Your folks.”
“The people who see the world the way you see it, who like you for you. You know,” I say, allowing a teasing note to creep into my voice, “like the way you feel with the other gorgeous, grumpy, super bossy Alphas. At home, and in good company.”
His lips slide into another smile, smaller than the one before, but even sexier. It’s somewhere between a smirk and a grin and it makes my heart beat faster even before he extends his arm along the back of my chair and leans in to whisper inches from my face, “Flattery will get you nowhere, little wolf.”
I stand my ground, refusing to shift backward when his lips move even closer to mine. “Who said that was flattery? I actually prefer modestly attractive, good-tempered, team players.”
“Is that right?” he asks, a smile in his voice, though I can’t see it.
He’s too close.
So close I can smell the hint of smoky bourbon on his breath, and it makes me ache for a taste. But I don’t want to sip from his glass, I want to brush my lips against his, swirl my tongue through his warm mouth, discover if Maxim Thorn is as good at kissing as he is at everything else.
I have a feeling he would be, a feeling he would ruin me for all other men, all other mouths.
“So those are your ‘folk,’ then?” he continues, his breath warm and delicious on my lips. “The cheery team players?”
I shake my head the tiniest bit, afraid to move too much for fear of breaking the spell. “No. I’m not cheery all the time. And I can be a tad too…independent for most team projects. I’m sure if you ask the head of my old lab, he’d say independent is just another word for difficult.” I swallow, letting my tongue slip out to dampen my lips as I add, “I’m not sure I’ve found my folks yet. But I think, when I find them, they’ll be kind and curious. Creative and compassionate and…fearless. Or pretty close to it.”
“Are you fearless, Willow?” he murmurs.
“No,” I confess. “But I want to be. And…”
I’m about to say, “I want to kiss you.” I’m about to lean in and do it—make the first move with not just an Alpha, but the leader of one of the most powerful packs in the world.
In other words, I’m about to take my life in my hands. After something like that Maxim would have a choice between rejecting me forcefully enough to put me in my Beta place or approving forcefully enough to establish dominance. Either one would be very bad for my future here.
But before I can make a potentially devastating mistake, a loud booming sound fills the theater, shaking the walls and sending shouts of dismay rippling through the crowd below.
Maxim and I both jerk our heads toward the stage in time to see the orchestra pit explode, sending wood and pieces of instruments flying into the air.
Chapter 12
Maxim
Acting on instinct, I grab Willow by the back of the neck and push her down into the floor of the box, shielding her from flying debris.
Then I order her, “Stay down,” and stand, ripping off my suit coat and tossing it to the floor.
The rest of my clothes are shredded as I shift into my wolf.
I couldn’t navigate a jump from this height as a man, but my wolf easily leaps from our box to the one below, and from there down to the rapidly emptying orchestra seats.
The civilian members of the pack are surging toward the exits with a speed and efficiency that makes me proud—this is why we drill for emergency evacuations every month—while the guards stationed by the exits and the enforcement wolves who happened to be in the audience launch into emergency protocols.
As I dash toward the orchestra pit, my junior enforcers are already helping clear the theater and sounding the tower-wide alarm while my senior officers file in behind me in their wolf forms to offer back-up.
I send out a telepathic command—ease of communication is another benefit of this form. I order the wolves on my right to circle around to the backstage area and evacuate the actors. Those on my left, I instruct to search for injured in the wreckage.
