Free Caleb by Sarah McCarty

forehead as the pressure beating behind her eyes increased
in a slow, building threat. Thinking was definitely hurting her brain. “So,
because you thought I was attractive, you thought it was okay to show up every
day at my bakery tempting me?”
    “Pretty
much.”
    The
weary note in his voice slammed her ego. Did he regret meeting her? “Well, no
one asked you to strut your stuff in my store.”
    She
was right about that, Caleb knew. Not one person had been happy with his
fascination, least of all himself. But like a moth faced with the temptation of
light, he’d needed to see her, and because he had, the D’Nally wolves had
caught scent of his interest. And that had put her in danger. Because the
renegade Dane had acted on it, seeing it as the perfect route to revenge for
whatever the hell Jace had done to set the pack against them. The question was
whether Ian D’Nally had sanctioned the attack. Caleb didn’t particularly want
to escalate the tension between the Johnsons and D’Nallys to outright feud, but
a pack-sanctioned attack against his kin would do it. He caught Allie’s hip in
his hand as she inched toward the edge, his senses coming alive as the soft
fullness shaped to his grip. “Didn’t one tumble teach you that isn’t going to
work?”
    “It
taught me that I need a different approach.”
    He
shook his head, the smile sneaking up on his blind side as she continued undeterred.
She had to be the most determined, resilient person he’d ever met. He doubted
she even had a passing acquaintance with the word “quit.” “You need a
guardian.”
    The
shove she gave his arm spoke volumes. “I can take care of myself.”
    He
slid his hand over her shoulder. His night vision was excellent. Not as
versatile as day vision, though. It was more of a blend of intense black and
white with startlingly accurate shading. It had taken him a while to get used
to the lack of color, but after the first fifty years, he’d adjusted.
Especially since the satin texture of Allie’s skin glowed like the palest white
against the surrounding dark. Like moon glow, calling for a longer touch. A
lingering. He resisted the urge. She might think him a dream, but he was pretty
sure she’d object to even his dream self taking liberties.
    He
settled for just making a bracelet of his fingers and sliding them down her
arm. He turned her palm up and stroked the indent on her wrist that his bite
had created. His fingertip slid along the groove that marked the change for
them all. The deep indent would soon be invisible, obliterated as her
conversion completed, but permanent nonetheless in the effect it would have on
them all. In the change it would bring.
    He
had a wife now to protect, to answer to. A mate. A flicker of movement brought
his gaze to her face just in time to catch the nervous pass of her tongue over
her lips. A very scared and confused mate who needed his care. Beneath the
translucent skin of her throat her pulse throbbed, a too-fast contradiction to
the sass in her attitude. A sass he completely enjoyed. In his day, they’d have
called Allie high-spirited. Forward. Hot-blooded. His eyes narrowed,
concentrating on the pulse point, following the rich flow of blood as it raced
along the artery. Very hot-blooded. A woman like her drew men like flies, many
for the wrong reasons. A woman like her fed a man’s sense of adventure,
challenged his preconceptions, made him think, made him feel. A woman like her
definitely needed a protector, because women like her were rare.
    “You
can let go of me.”
    He
barely felt the tug on his grip. Another thing he’d forgotten in the last
couple centuries: how much more delicate a human woman’s strength was than a
man’s. He lifted his gaze to find her staring at him with wide eyes and parted
lips, her expression a mixture of fear and fascination. As if she, too, were
caught up in the chemistry between them. As if what was there was more than
could be seen or felt. More than could