Chapter 9: The Fox and The Bear

Lucien's POV

She's got a blade in her smile. I saw it yesterday, her green eyes glinting too sharp, voice sliding too easy, standing in my study like she could own it. Selene's not breaking, not after three weeks of snarling, clawing, trashing my walls. She's plotting something, and damn it, it's got my blood humming, heat pooling low. I sat in the war room, boots propped on the table, chair creaking under my weight, scars pulling tight across my chest.

Maps sprawled around me, Ironclaw's lines marked in red, torchlight flickering over steel and stone. The air stank of oil, smoke, leather thick with fight, my pack's pulse, my kill zone. Yesterday wasn't just chatter, not just her poking at my scars, fishing for cracks. It was a move, a play, and it's not surrender. I grinned, slow, cold, teeth baring, cock twitching in my jeans. Let her think she's got me. Let her swing.

I replayed it, her standing there, bare feet silent, sweater clinging soft, voice warm, asking about fights I'd walked from. Too smooth, too curious, green eyes locked on mine, digging, testing. I'd growled, kept it short, watched her step close, hated how her scent hit, wild, earthy, how my gut knotted, cock stiffened against leather. Damn it all.

She's a pawn, Ironclaw's lost wolf, my key to gutting them, not some prize to take. But yesterday stuck, her laugh when that quill bent, her quick cover, "shaky hands," like I wouldn't notice the hum, the lie. She's not just escaping, I thought, leaning back, boots scuffing the table. She might want me dead, her nails sharp, her grin a promise, a wolf circling for my throat. The thought punched me, heat surging, cock thickening, pressing hard against denim. Damn her. I wanted her to try, wanted her to lunge, wanted to catch her wrist, slam her down, feel her fight, watch her bare her teeth.

I dropped my boots, chair thudding, hands flexing on the arms. Escape, sure, that's her game, slip my grip, run free. But kill me? That's new, darker, and damn it, it fits her, fits the fire in her eyes, the steel in her spine. Yesterday wasn't random, her leaning in, her scent too close, her words too pointed. She's playing me, thinking I'll soften, drop my guard, let her slide a knife between my ribs or slip out a window. I laughed, low, rough, throat scraping. Fine. Let her plot. I'd feed her rope, watch her knot it, see if she'd swing or stab. My cock pulsed, leather thrill at her nerve, her threat. She'd try, I'd counter, and if she went for my throat, I'd have her pinned, her game my win, her blood or her breath mine to claim.

The war room buzzed, faint clatter outside, pack sharpening steel, growling low. I'd sent Jace to infiltrate Ironclaw weeks back, worm into their ranks, sniff out Dax's moves. Selene's pack wanted her bad, bleeding for her, and I'd use it, rip them apart while they chased their ghost. My grin sharpened, cold, feral, fingers tapping the table, nails blunt but itching to claw. Her play would bait them, her con would blind them, Ironclaw's fall would be my steel in their spine. I leaned forward, leather creaking loud, chest heaving slow, scars catching the torchlight, shadows leaping on the walls. Let her come at me. Let her try it.

The door scraped open, soft, calculated. I stayed slouched, boots back on the table, hands loose, maps rustling under my elbows. Her scent rolled in, wild, earthy, a bite of sweat and defiance, damn it, sinking low, cock hardening fast, thick, heavy. "Found you," she said, voice light, warm, too casual, stepping in, bare feet silent on the stone. She stopped near, I felt it, her presence tugging the air, green eyes glinting, hunting already. My pulse slammed, hard, suspicion flaring, but damn it, want surged too, raw, thick, coiling tight in my gut. She's back for more, I thought, jaw clenching, grin twitching cold. Clever little killer.

"Got business?" I grunted, voice gravel, tilting my head, boots still up, shirt pulling open, scars flexing as I shifted, hands staying loose. She stood there, arms crossed, easy, breezy, stepping closer, slow, bare feet silent, stopping just shy of the table. Jeans hugged her hips, sweater clung soft, snug, chest rising steady, damn it, nipples hinting under the fabric, traitors she couldn't mask. My gaze dropped, quick, lingered on her curves, then snapped back, ice-blue cutting cold, pinning her hard. "Checking the plans," she said, voice light, teasing, green eyes wide, daring me. "You're always buried in them, growling, don't you ever look up?"

She's pushing harder, I thought, suspicion spiking, heat surging, cock throbbing hard against denim, damn her, damn her game. I snorted, short, rough, lips twitching, air puffing out like I'd caught her scent and craved it. "Plans keep us alive," I growled, dropping my boots, chair creaking as I leaned forward, elbows on the table, towering even seated, bulk a wall of scars and heat. "And you're nosy, sniffing around, huh?" I cocked my head, testing her, ice-blue slicing through the dim, scars catching the torchlight, jagged on my skin, old pain I wore like steel, cracks she'd never reach unless I let her think she could.

"Guess so," she shot back, light, teasing, stepping closer, slow, bare feet brushing the stone's edge. Her scent slammed me, wild, earthy, damn it, pulse jumping, heat coiling, cock stiff, aching now, damn her, damn her play. "These maps, they're something, keeping it all together?" She tilted her head, green eyes wide, fake interest dripping, voice soft, warm, lie sharp as a fang, digging, prying, betting I'd spill. My grin twitched, cold, feral, suspicion burning, but damn it, excitement too, thick, raw, wanting her to push, wanting her to strike, wanting her to run, wanting her caught. A quill on the table tipped, faint hum buzzing, her nails flexed, sharp, itching, damn her, damn her tricks. I caught it, brow twitched, eyes flicked to her hands, then back, suspicion blazing hot. She laughed, "Slippery today, guess I'm off," voice steady, covering fast, mask tight, lie smooth as oil.

"Off, huh?" I grunted, low, skeptical, standing slow, boots thudding, leather and pine crashing over her, chest a wall, scars peeking, muscle tight, heat rolling off me, ice-blue burning into her, cutting deep, hunting her lie. "Maps are just maps, fights I've planned with them, nothing more." Voice gravel, rough, dismissive, but my eyes lingered, flicked to her nails, her face, bulk shifting, hands curling loose, suspicion warring with want, intrigue, buried deep, cock throbbing, damn her, damn her game, damn her threat.

"Planned with them?" she purred, soft, fake, leaning in, barely, green eyes locked, voice warm, digging deeper. "Looks like you've got it down, keeping it tight, big moves, huh?" Lie, sweet, honeyed, pushing, watching my jaw tick, my scars flex, torch jumping wild, shadows leaping. I didn't bite, not yet, stood firm, ice-blue cutting, breath steady, close, heat grazing her, pulse pounding, suspicion sharp, excitement sharper, hard as iron, damn her, damn her steel.

"Moves don't need talk," I growled, low, stepping closer, boots scuffing, chest brushing her shadow, leather creaking, scent slamming her, pine, sweat, hand flexing, scars pulling tight, ice-blue burning, testing her, voice rough. "You're digging, why?" Head cocked, sharp, eyes narrowed, suspicion flaring, torchlight cutting between us, heat thick, raw, cock aching, wanting her to slip, wanting her to lunge, wanting her mine.

"Just passing time," she shot back, light, easy, shrugging, stepping back, slow, bare feet sliding, giving ground, smirking, green eyes glinting, mask holding, steel behind it. "Locked up, figured I'd see what's here, keep moving." A paper rustled, faint hum pulsed, she's playing deep, I flinched, faint, eyes flicked, growl rumbled, low, not pissed, intrigued, damn her, hook sinking, my grin twitched, plan ticking, excitement coiling, hard, ready.

"Move somewhere else," I grunted, rough, turning, boots heavy, sinking back into the chair, boots up again, staring at the maps, leaving her standing, pulse hammering, my own slamming, cold thrill, hot want, game on.

I gripped the chair, torch flickering, growl fading to a mutter, her scent clinging, her con burning, cock still hard, damn her, damn her fire. Boots pounded outside, fast, hard, door banged open, Jace stormed in, face grim, eyes wild, blood streaking his neck. "Ironclaw's split," he rasped, chest heaving, leather creaking, urgency thick. "Dax took the strongest wolves, hunting Selene now, pack's wide open, defenseless."

I froze, boots dropping, chair creaking as I stood, grin splitting wide, cold, feral, ice-blue blazing, scars flexing. "Perfect," I growled, voice gravel, pulse slamming hard, excitement surging, cock throbbing, damn it, damn them all. Selene's game, Ironclaw's fumble, my strike locked in, her play a lure, their end my steel. "Dax is a damn fool, chasing a ghost while his house burns. They hunt, we take. Now."