Scott shuddered, then collapsed back to the seat as his chest heaved. His heart pounded in his chest as he gasped for air.
He didn’t think he’d ever come so hard. It left him weak and boneless. With great effort, he rolled his head to the side to see Ted.
The man lay stretched over the seat, knees on the floorboard, resting on his arms, his back rising up and down as he gulped for air.
“Oh fuck.” Ted groaned.
“Merde.” Scott chuckled. “Come here.” He grabbed Ted by the scruff of the neck and hauled him on top of his chest for yet another kiss.
Once he’d started, he couldn’t stop kissing Ted. And as soon as that thought crossed his mind, he saw the problem with thinking that way.
He’d let the wolf out, let it be satisfied with a taste of its mate, but he couldn’t let it go any further.
They were going to break the spell tomorrow night, and all this would be over and done. Ted would leave, and Scott could get his life back to the way it was supposed to be. Find the mate he was supposed to have.
Ted pushed away, this time sitting on the seat.
“You taste spicy.” He wiped his mouth with his thumb.
“Must be the hot sauce.” Scott shrugged. “I put it on everything.” He tucked his satisfied and happy cock back into his briefs and pulled up his pants as a wave of embarrassment swamped him.
“It’s good. Odd, but good.” Ted sat up, licking his lips. “I like it.” Scott cringed at the look of affection in Ted’s eyes.
“Don’t get used to it.” Scott frowned. “Look, I lost control of my wolf, let it have its way, but that can’t happen again. Once we break the spell, you won’t be anything to me.” Scott had no idea why he was being such a prick. Ted didn’t deserve it, but it was the only way Scott knew to distance himself from Ted and what they’d just done.
Ted’s face twisted. “You bastard. You fucking bastard. You used me.” The hurt on Ted’s face stabbed Scott right through the heart.
“No. It wasn’t like that, really. Right now, all my wolf knows is that you’re its mate. It's not rational, not thinking, just going on instinct.” Scott tried to explain his way out of this, but no matter what, he came off like a prick.
“Well, I’m not a fucking wolf. I’m a man. Don’t play me, Scott.” He opened the truck door and stepped out. “Tomorrow night. Eleven. Can’t wait to be free so I can get my cock sucked by that sweet little twink. Then I’m going to fuck his tight ass until my balls blow.” He slammed the door shut and stormed off.
Scott sat in the truck, barely able to see out of the fogged-up windows, as Ted disappeared into the darkness.
His body quivered, holding his wolf in check. At Ted’s words, it lunged and snapped at the air. The need to strike out, to hunt down the twink, whoever he was, and bring him to ground, took all Scott’s sanity as a man to resist.
Scott pounded the dashboard with his fist as anger and fury took him on an emotional joyride. His knuckles burned from scraping over the hard plastic, and he shook his hand and winced.
Fuck. This had to stop. He was completely out of control, a danger to himself and to the others in the pack. On that alone, he could lose his position as alpha.
He started the truck, pulled out, and drove home.
Once he walked through his front door, exhaustion set in. He stripped, fell into bed naked, and passed out.
»»•««
Ted tossed and turned all night, angry and frustrated and so tied up in knots he didn’t think he’d ever relax enough to fall asleep.
When the morning came, he pulled the pillow over his head and ignored his alarm clock. It wasn’t until someone rapped on his door that he got up. After a quick shower, and skipping shaving, he trudged downstairs in time to grab a cup of coffee and join the others outside for the morning instruction.
He fell asleep as Darcy explained the next painting, and only roused when Peter nudged his with his foot.
“Lunchtime. You driving?” Peter smiled at him.
Ted scrubbed his hands over his face. “Sure. But that’s all I’m doing, got it?”
“Sure.”
They walked together to Ted’s SUV, got in, and followed the others without speaking. Peter was a good kid. Ted had to give him that. Somehow he’d sensed Ted wasn’t in a mood to chat and kept his mouth shut. Ted appreciated it. One cup of coffee and a nap wasn’t enough to help him feel better.
Maybe after lunch.
Maybe never.
»»•««
Scott leaned back in his chair and picked up the phone. He punched in the numbers for the New Orleans Police Department and waited.
After ten minutes of being passed around from station to station and desk to desk, he finally found someone who had the information he needed.
As he sat and listened to the officer on the other end of the phone, Scott’s mouth formed a tight, straight line, and a blood vessel on the side of his head throbbed. He didn’t like what he heard, and if anything made him even surer he was doing the right thing, this did.
He hung up the phone and sat there, stunned.
Midnight couldn’t come soon enough.
»»•««
Ted lugged his canvases, easel, and paints to the entrance of the old cemetery. It had an eerie beauty, with its raised tombs adorned with angels, children, weeping women, and an occasional crucified Jesus.
The colors were muted; the gray of the stone and the hanging Spanish moss, the blue of the sky, and the green of the grass and trees.
Picturesque, if a graveyard could be called that.
Everyone had entered and then scattered to find their spots. Ted trudged after Kirsten, keeping an eye on her.
He’d been lucky last night that she’d stayed in and not gone out while he was giving the werewolf head.
What a fool he’d been, falling for Sheriff Scott Dupree. For a while, he thought maybe they had a chance, even if all this spell shit didn’t work out. He’d even accepted Scott’s wolf, but Scott had made his feelings clear. He’d used Ted to relieve a little frustration, nothing more.
Asshole.
Tonight, once he got free, he’d show Scott his backside, and he’d never have to see him again. In two days, he’d be heading back to New Orleans and his regular life.
He couldn’t wait.
For now, he planned on losing himself in this painting. Lunch had done wonders for him; well, that and two aspirin chased with a beer.
He found Kirsten set up in front of a large, dark green marble crypt. Truly impressive, it shone in the sunlight, and it sat under a magnificent spreading oak.
“Perfect place,” he commented.
She looked up, smiled, and put her blank canvas on the easel. Then she turned it, so it stood tall. “I think so. I’m going to try to capture the tree as the focal point, and have the tomb be sort of a discovery.”
“Great idea. I’m sure you’ll pull it off.” Ted moved past her and set up. “I think I’ll try a close up of the tomb itself.”
“The colors are so rich.” She set out her paints and got started. “Darcy should be around soon, and I want to have some color on before he gets here.”
Ted looked up as Darcy came down a narrow path between graves. “Too late. Here he comes.”
“Damn.” She rolled her eyes. “Yesterday he trashed my picture.”
“I wouldn’t call that trashing, Kirsten. Seemed to me he really liked it.” Ted started to lay in the lines in a pale blue.
“He really liked Peter’s.” She winked. “I think he really likes Peter.”
“Maybe.” He moved the brush to his palette and picked up more blue paint.
“For a minute, I thought he liked you.” She shot him a knowing look.
“I’m not on the market.” He slashed a few lines of the tree. “How about you?”
“On the market? No way.” She held up her left hand and wiggled her fingers. “I’m taken.” She grinned looking like the idea truly pleased her.
“You look happy. Your husband doesn’t mind you coming to this?” Ted tried to keep it as casual as possible.
“No. He respects my talent. Besides, he’s older than me, and I suppose he’s just more mature, you know. None of those wild fits of jealousy to deal with like guys my age. We both know what we want from our marriage.”
“That’s unusual.”
“I know. I’m really lucky.”
“But he’s older?”
“Yeah, like twenty-five years.” Ted thought it was much more than twenty-five, more like thirty-five.
“Wow!”
“I know. But I can’t help it, I love him to death. I’ve never felt such a strong attraction toward anyone in my life. Maybe lightning struck me, or maybe it was just Cupid’s arrow.” She giggled, tossed her blonde ponytail, and continued to paint. “I saw him at a fund-raiser, and from that moment on, I couldn’t think about anyone but him. My friends think I’m nuts.”
Ted froze, his brush poised just inches from his canvas. The description was beyond uncanny. But it couldn’t be, could it?
“So, it was like you were mates, huh?” Ted ventured.
“Exactly! That’s what he says. I’m his mate.” She turned back to her painting.
Ted put his brush down and stared at his painting.
Charbonnet was a werewolf, and Kirsten was his mate?
If that was true, then the old man was as far removed from Scott’s werewolf as the moon was from the earth. The judge might be a werewolf, but in no way did he have Scott’s honor or dedication to his pack.
Still, he’d seen Scott’s possessiveness last night. Had the judge seen or smelled something on Kirsten that made him suspect she’d been with someone else?
If so, why did he think she would meet him at the workshop? Had there been other clues the old man hadn’t told him about?
He itched to dig out his cell phone and call Scott, run things over with him like he used to do with Douglas, but he stopped. Scott and he didn’t have the same relationship, not by a long shot.
Darcy came up to them. “Nice setting. Well chosen.” He walked around Kirsten’s easel and nodded. “Very well done, my dear.”
“Thank you.”
“Your use of color on the tree is stunning. And I love how the tomb just peeks out from under the branches.”
She beamed at him, and exhaled, obviously relieved he liked her work. Now it was Ted’s turn, and he steeled himself as Darcy approached.
The artist viewed it from several angles as Ted waited. Then he came up to Ted and put his hand on his shoulder.
“This is remarkable, Ted. You’ve really got talent. Whatever you’re doing for a day job, you’re wasting your time. You should be painting.”
Ted stared at the painting, finding it hard to believe the man’s words. First, he wasn’t sure he liked Darcy Wentworth, and second, he wasn’t sure he could trust a single thing that came out of his mouth.
“Really?” Ted shrugged. “Can’t pay the rent painting.”
“Not at first. But you keep this up, and you’ll be selling in no time.”
Kirsten came over and looked at his canvas. “Oh, Ted.” There was awe in her voice, and he looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. “It’s gorgeous. Truly.”
“Do you really think so?” Ted thought it looked good, thought his colors were well-placed, and his drawing more than accurate. He just didn’t believe their responses to it.
“I do. I could see this in a French Quarter gallery, selling for hundreds.” She nodded. “I should know, I have friends who own galleries, and this beats most of the stuff they have in them.”
“You’re pulling my leg, guys.” Ted shook his head.
“Not at all.” Darcy chuckled. “And I have to say, the humility looks damn good on you.” He ran his finger down Ted’s arm, then moved off to the next student.
Ted blushed. No one had ever gushed so much over his work before. Then again, he’d stopped painting when he entered the police academy, giving up his dreams of becoming a famous painter.
When he went to Hawaii with his money, maybe he’d spend the time painting and fucking the volcano god-boy.
For now, he spent the rest of the afternoon working on the painting, forgetting all about Kirsten and her mate, Judge Charbonnet.