Filthy rich werewolves by Taylor Caine

Chapter 91

JASON

Outside the club, Terrence looks at me quizzically. He doesn’t ask or comment, just opens the door to

the Escalade and says respectfully, “Alpha Reed.”

I get in the car. “Let’s go.”

Did I come here today to prove something? I’m not sure.

Brian and Patrick are among my oldest and closes friends. I spent some time with them. Conversed

with a few pack leaders that we had business dealings with. I chatted with several women, and fended

off the advances of several more.

I don’t come out like this often because I don’t particularly enjoy the crowded spaces or overly loud

music or all the sights and smells of so many different wolves.

But I made the effort tonight.

And when that striking she-wolf came over to talk to me, I didn’t shut her down immediately. I made

small talk. Kept it nice.

But when she pressed closer, looking to set the mood for something more, I had smelled her perfume,

and beneath that, the scent of her wolf.

Yes, she was beautiful. Wealthy. Cultured.

But she hadn’t stood a chance. When she came close, I wanted to push her away. Because there was

one scent I craved and it was the faint soapy fragrance of another woman.

“What shall I instruct the driver?” Terrence asks carefully.

“You know where I want to go.”

When I arrive in front of the rental apartment, I squat down and take out the spare key under the mat in

front of the door. Grace insists on leaving it there. That was after I refused to keep the key she offered

me.

I’d either have to start carrying the stupid thing. Or break her of that habit. It was dangerous to leave

the key outside.

Whilst I slept in the apartment, it was not a concern, but when she was alone…

I unlock and push open the door. The lights in the room are still on, and her slender figure is sitting next

to the table. Half of her upper body is lying on the table, and her head is tilted to the side as she sleeps.

I study her face. Her skin is smooth and her expression serene. She looks so peaceful that my heart

seems to slow the moment I see her.

I raise my hand and gently fiddle with the strands of hair lying over her cheeks, brushing them back and

letting my fingers just barely touch her skin.

Soft. So soft.

There are women who are more beautiful. Hell, the women at the club I’d just left are actresses and

alpha’s daughters, females from the most dominant packs in this city. But not a single one of them

strikes me as Grace does.

It seems that I won’t get tired of looking at them even if it’s for the rest of my life. And that is one hell of

a sobering thought.

A moment later, I bend down and carefully lift her from the chair.

Even though I deliberately try to be as gentle as possible, she still wakes up.

"Jay..." She opens her eyes in a daze. Her hazy, almond-shaped eyes crinkle as she smiles at me.

”Yes, I'm back. Rest. I’ll take you to bed and you can keep sleeping."

I walk across the room.

She snuggles closer to me. Her arms wrapping sleepily around my neck, her face resting against my

chest.

"You smell... nice... it's perfume, right...? Where have you been?"

I pause then resume walking. With one hand I peel back the blankets and sheet. I set her down gently

and tuck her in.

She looks up at me sleepily.

”Something happened today, so I went to the bar. I probably got the smell from there."

“Oh. Okay.”

"Go to sleep. I'll go wash the smell off."

Her eyelids began to close again.

I appreciated that about her too. No recriminations. No argument.

Grace trusts me.

I stand there at her bedside for several seconds, listening as her breathing levels out and her body

relaxes.

I grab a clean set of clothes and go to the bathroom. This text is property of Nô/velD/rama.Org.

I shower, wash my hair and consider the woman asleep in the other room. I have no doubt she fell

asleep at that table waiting up for me.

I probably made her worry.

She didn’t call though. Didn’t try to chase me down or ask that I come home. She respects me to make

my own decisions. Jennifer had been far more docile than Grace, and she could never resist asking

when I’d come back or where I was going. If she didn’t like my answer, there would be some kind of

passive-aggressive reaction.

With Grace, if she didn’t like something, I know she would just tell me.

Her honesty is refreshing.

When I’ve dried off and dressed, I open the door to the main room. The light from behind me bathes

Grace so I can see the curve of her body and the delicate shape of her face.

I stay there for a few minutes, watching her sleep.

Then I walk out into the room and bend down until I can drink in her scent and heat. A part of me wants

to sprawl out beside her and draw her into my arms. But then we won’t end up resting. A part of me

wants to shift, just so I can soak up every detail of her in sharper detail.

My wolf yips happily at the idea.

I brush the hair off her face and tuck it behind her ear. "Grace, tell me, when should I let you know my

true identity. Or shall I just let you keep relying on me until you can't leave me anymore?”

She doesn’t answer.

But she does turn toward the sound of my voice, instinctively seeking me, even in her sleep.