Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 95748 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 479(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95748 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 479(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Panic tightened Emily’s chest. “Please, stay. We need a show of force from the family, especially against Victor. Just your existence strengthens our father’s position.”
Nadia sighed, the sound more resigned than annoyed. “Fine. So, how’s it going pretending to be a matchmaker for the hottie Jackson Tryne?”
Emily rolled her eyes, though a smile tugged at her lips. “I’m not pretending.”
“Please. I saw the air combust between you two.”
“Maybe,” Emily admitted. “But it can’t happen. I can’t leave our pack, and there’s no way two Alpha mates can live apart.” Her stomach twisted as she spoke.
Nadia was silent for a moment. “I’ve always thought love trumps everything.”
Emily coughed. “Love? Come on. The guy turns me on. That’s all.”
“Right,” Nadia drawled. “Keep telling yourself that. For now, did you find out anything about Caidrik and his work with Jackson?”
Emily raised an eyebrow. “Why do you ask? You interested in him?”
“Of course not,” Nadia shot back too quickly. “He’s my sudden and very intense bodyguard, and I don’t even know the guy. I feel like I should at least understand his background.”
“Uh-huh.” Emily settled into the whole sister thing. “He’s not a bad-looking guy, you know. Big, broody, all protective. I see the appeal.”
“Seriously, stop.” Nadia groaned. “I was just curious since you’re there.”
Emily chuckled. “I haven’t found out much yet. Jackson’s pretty tight-lipped about his pack, but I’ll see what I can find out.” Maybe she should take this matchmaking gig international.
“Thanks. Get some sleep, and we’ll talk soon. ‘Night.”
“‘Night.” Emily ended the call, staring at the phone for a long moment before setting it aside. She needed time to get to know Nadia, so hopefully, the female would remain in town.
Standing, she headed into the opulent bathroom that also held several more gift baskets from pack members and took a shower, leaving her hair damp and loose as she changed into silk pajamas. The soft fabric clung to her skin, offering a hint of comfort, but her heart still ached. The undeniable pull between her and Jackson wouldn’t let her rest. Yet every female they’d met today wanted him. Badly.
He’d been amused, kind, and gracious with each candidate in a way he’d never been with her. Not once had he needled them or flashed that infuriating smirk. And none of them had seemed to mind his torn jeans or worn T-shirt. One of the women had even called him charming.
Worse yet, he’d acted charming. Jerk.
Emily snuggled into the bed and opened her laptop, fingers punching the keys as she dove into writing a murder scene. A gruesome, visceral one that let her vent her frustration. Each keystroke helped chip away at the tension coiled inside her. Blood splattered, bones snapped, and by the time her fictional detective found the body, she felt marginally better.
Her eyes grew heavy. Tomorrow, she’d have to meet with three more females eager to claim Jackson. This time, instead of groaning about it, Jackson said he looked forward to it. It must be nice having females fawn over him all day.
Still, she understood his need to focus on discovering who had been sabotaging the mines. By the end of her chapter, her thoughts blurred. She brushed her teeth, slid back into bed, and exhaled as the mattress cradled her. The suite’s rustic charm felt unexpectedly cozy, and the soft hum of the distant town sounds drifted through the window. Sleep claimed her swiftly, though the ache in her solar plexus lingered just beneath the surface.
The sharp, acrid stench of garlic sliced through her dreams. Adrenaline flooded her veins the second before her eyelids popped open. Before she could react, rough hands grabbed her arms, yanking her upright. Coarse fabric scraped across her face as a burlap sack was shoved over her head, muffling her gasp.
The whole damn thing smelled like garlic. Damn it. She couldn’t smell the wolves at all.
Panic surged, white-hot and instinctive. Emily twisted violently, her muscles surging with the power of her wolf side as she drove her elbow back into someone’s ribs. The solid impact made the male grunt in pain—it sounded male, anyway. Seizing the moment, she lashed out with her legs, kicking wildly. Her foot connected with another body, earning a sharp curse.
“Hold her still!” a voice barked, rough and breathless.
She didn’t recognize the voice. Who was it? Were these the same guys as last time? The garlic clogged her senses, making her eyes water.
She jerked her head, trying to dislodge the sack as she threw her weight sideways, driving her captors toward the nightstand. The lamp crashed to the floor, the glass shattering and pinging across the wood.
There were two of them. She knew that much.
One cursed as she scraped her nails against exposed skin. She twisted again, managing to wrench one arm free.
She drove her fist hard into the nearest chest, but a pair of hands seized her from behind, pulling her off balance. She snarled, her instincts flaring to life as she used her body’s momentum to twist sideways. Her knee shot up, aiming for what she hoped was someone’s groin. She connected hard, and the satisfying groan of pain spurred her onward.