Heart of the Wolf
And his damned wolf hadn’t been making it easy. Every spare thought in his mind was of her, and the wolf would keep reminding him of Isabelle’s scent or the feel of her against him. He couldn’t even find a substitute because even the thought of touching another female made his wolf furious. Not that he’d had a lot of female company anyway. It had been an embarrassingly long time since he’d slept with anyone, even before he met her. The plan was the focus. There could be no distractions.He really needed to forget about her. Besides, she was one of them. If she ever found out the real reason he had been in New York, surely, she’d report him to her Alpha.
His teeth ground together. Grant Anderson. Alpha of New York and another name he could never forget.
Remember why we’re here, he told his wolf.
The plan. It was set in motion long ago. He had a role to play in this game. And failure would not be tolerated. He couldn’t be distracted. Not now.
It had been hard keeping everything from Pops and the rest of the Savage Wolves Motorcycle Club. Pops had been good to him; treated him like his own flesh and blood, taken him and his mother in when no one else would. If Pops hadn’t married his mother, his life would have been different. He would have taken a darker path, where the worst of Lone Wolves went. But Pops had turned everything around. Put him on the right path, shown him that there was another way. The MC had become his life, his anchor, and a better life someone like him could have.
That’s why lying to Pops had made his stomach tie up in knots. He had responsibilities back home as Vice President, but he asked Pops for a week’s break, and the old man had happily agreed if that’s what he thought he needed to get his head back on straight.
There was no way he could tell Pops the truth. Not about the plan. He just wouldn’t understand so it was better to keep him in the dark.
Isabelle Brooklyn Bridge was not part of the plan. No, she was a distraction. One he couldn’t afford this late in the game. But he never thought he’d be knocked off his feet by a petite, little thing with curves that made him weep and a face that haunted his dreams. The moment he saw her enter Blood Moon, he knew he had to have her.
He had called her princess because that’s what she seemed like—a spoiled, beautiful princess dressed up in frivolous designer clothes with no substance. But she’d surprised him—knocked him off his feet if he was honest with himself—with her little speech about Lone Wolves. And kissing her had been a mistake. Because now, he couldn’t stop thinking of her taste and scent.
But I have to.
For his own sake. For his family. For revenge.
Stick to the plan.
That was the only reason he was here in New York. Shaking his head and ignoring his wolf’s pleas, he revved up the engine on his bike and continued on his journey.
Six months ago, he’d been here on a reconnaissance mission. His unique status as a Lone Wolf made it easy for him to travel into the territory. The initial information he had about the clan was outdated, older than him probably, so he had to make sure they were still correct. He’d staked out all the important places. Fenrir Corporation on Madison Avenue. Creed Security downtown. The Enclave. Muccino’s. And of course, Blood Moon. That had been his last stop on his three-day trip, and he had been ready to pack up and go home. That was when he met her.
His wolf growled at him, as it did whenever he thought of her. Forget it, pal. They were not going to seek her out. Besides, he hadn’t seen or talked to her since that night. She’d probably forgotten about him, and though that was probably for the best, it still made something in his chest ache.
This trip was another scouting mission. Get the info, wait for the call, pass it on to his contact. That was all.
When he’d last been in New York, it was in the middle of a winter and everything was calm and quiet. Now, on this late summer evening, the city seemed more alive and bustling. People hung out on their stoops, walked along the sidewalks, or sat outside at chairs and tables restaurants had set out. Eventually, he made his way to Midtown to a nondescript motel where he’d stayed previously. It wasn’t the Ritz, but they took cash and asked no questions, not to mention, their garage was safe. After parking his bike, he made his way to the lobby and paid the dour-looking front desk clerk before heading to his room and dumping his bag. Then, after a quick change of clothes, he headed out and walked a few blocks to where Blood Moon was located. However, instead of heading in toward the front door, he walked to the alley that led to the rear of the building.
His enhanced sight easily adjusted to the darkness, and he grabbed an empty box lying on its side by the front of the alley. Picking it up, he hoisted it on his shoulders then walked farther inside. Two employees on their smoke break ignored him as he slipped into the rear entrance of the club, using the box to block his face from the other employees. The front security where the burly bouncers stood guard had been harder to get past the last time he was here, but the security from the back was nonexistent. It would be easy enough to get inside from there.
When he got past the kitchen, he tossed the box aside and headed into the main club area. Easy as taking candy from a baby. The dance floor buzzed with energy as a pulsing dance tune boomed from the