Elijah Westwood

Scarlett

T he airport is far more crowded than I had imagined it would be, with people entering and leaving in a rush. Taxis and cars are parked all around, and I could not find even one empty spot until I had driven around several times and spotted someone pulling out.

It isn't the best spot and with the car on the left parked out of its bay slightly and into mine, I take ages squeezing myself into the tight spot. I'm a new driver and it's not as easy as it looks! I then realise I can't open the driver's side door because I don't have enough space.

Groaning in frustration, I climb over to the passenger seat and get out of the car. I'm not so sure I enjoy driving anymore… I failed four driving tests before passing and bay parking is still not one of my strong points. Locking the car, I head inside. The wind is blowing strongly, making my hair whip across my face.

Finally, I enter the airport and scan the Flight Information Display. Oh crap, the flight landed thirty minutes ago. Great, I'm late… I pout, crossing my arms and hoping I am not too late. It does take time to collect your luggage, right?

"Finally… why am I not surprised?" A drawling voice comes from behind me. My heart skips a beat. Recognising the voice I spin around, knocking into someone.

"Ouch, fuck! That hurt!" I groan, massaging my boob. I look up to glare at the brick-like man I have just knocked into, freezing when I find myself staring into my stepbrother's cocky face. The scent of winter spice, vanilla and white musk envelops my senses and I suddenly feel dizzy, my breath stolen from me.

"Need some help to massage that?" he asks huskily. His eyes flit down to my breasts, and I don't miss the teasing glimmer in his eyes. I hate that I blush and instead glare at him to make up for it.

"Oh, shut up, Elijah," I reply, rolling my eyes.

"What's wrong? Can't a big brother take care of his precious little sister?" he mocks as he leans closer, his lips inches from my ear. I hate how his words ignite a forbidden pleasure inside of me. My heart thunders in my chest as his breath fans the side of my face.

Take care of me? There are many ways that can be taken and a few that make my pussy ache. "I promise to take real good care of you… just say the word, Red," he whispers seductively.

I shove him away, trying not to notice the way his chest feels under my fingertips. I can't deny that he looks beyond incredible, sexier than I remember. Has he grown a little more?

He's around six-foot-two, and he is definitely a lot bulkier than he used to be. His skin is tanned, sun-kissed to perfection, and a light stubble covers that angular jaw of his. He's dressed in ripped jeans, a white T-shirt, a leather jacket, and Nike trainers. All-in-all, he looks effortlessly perfect.

He is the typical alpha male – drop-dead gorgeous, and he's getting a lot of attention from young women and girls who pass us by. Some cast me an envious glance. If only they knew who he is to me.

"Stop being an ass. It's clear you haven't changed," I snap, glaring at him icily as I try to focus on reality. He looks down at me and I can't read the look in his eyes.

"You've changed a lot though… I was beginning to think the Instagram posts may have all been photo-shopped and heavily edited, clearly not…" he muses, but to my surprise the mocking tone isn't there. His eyes trail over my short frame, and I can feel his gaze burn into me. Maybe it's in my head, but it's almost as if he's undressing me with his eyes.

My heart skips a beat when his gaze lingers on my bust for a few seconds longer than it should have.

"When I'm this gorgeous, I don't need Photoshop; I'm not you. Now if you're done being annoying, shall we go? I don't have all day," I say, turning and leading the way out. I can feel him still staring at me, but I try not to pay attention to him.

"Lead the way, Red, I'm right behind." I can hear the amusement in his voice, and it only irks me.

We reach my car after walking through the huge car park, as the spot I had found was pretty far out. Unlocking the doors, I pop open the trunk for him. He tosses his suitcase and duffel bag in it like they weigh nothing, but to my annoyance, I can see how the weight makes the car dip as they weigh it down. Show off.

He slams it shut before walking around to the passenger seat. "Wait, let me get in first!" I call out, grabbing his arm. He cocks a brow, his gaze dipping to my hand on his arm, and I quickly remove it.

"What? Did you smash in the other door or something?"

"No, the parking spot was tight," I explain begrudgingly. "Now move so I can get in."

I'm rewarded with a cocky grin. "If you want to get in, that's on you. I ain't moving." He leans back against my car, and I glare at him, before quickly squeezing past. I'm crushed between the car behind me and his body. My stomach flutters when I feel a certain part of him press against my stomach. Our eyes meet and I can't read him before I quickly open the door and slip inside. I climb over to the driver's seat and he wastes no time in getting in and slamming the door after him.

"The parking spot was fine. You just parked really badly. How did you even pass?" he remarks as I put my belt on, trying not to get riled up by his annoying ‘have you even passed?' comment. Dick.

"Just shut up, Elijah, and buckle up," I command, ignoring his cocky remark.

"Are you worried that you're going to end up crashing and concerned that I might get hurt?" he teases, smirking cockily when I glare at him.

"No, trust me, you look a tad too pretty. I think you could do with a few cuts to fix up your face," I growl. "It's my car, and if you want a ride, you're going to follow my rules," I say, as I check my mirrors and slowly reverse out of my spot, making sure to do all my observations.

"Are you sure you don't want me to drive? I really don't want to die so young. There's so many women left to taste…" he murmurs. What exactly did I see in this asshole? Definitely not his personality.

"You are not touching my car," I reply firmly. He ignores me and to my irritation, he doesn't put his belt on and instead fiddles with my playlist, sitting back when ‘Or Nah' by Somo begins playing, humming along. Please do not make this worse for me.

I keep my eyes firmly glued to the road, trying not to focus on the words of the song. They're a little too much, and with Elijah in the car… the image in my head is not a decent one. The way his head moves to the beat… that sexy pout on his face.

I'm so distracted I don't even realise when I begin to swerve out of my lane until a car beeps and Elijah's hand is on top of mine, swiftly turning us back into the correct lane. Fuck. I got distracted!

"Careful, I didn't realise you were serious about cutting up my face."

"Hey, I was in control," I say, but my thundering heart gives me away.

"You definitely weren't born to drive," he snickers. I ignore him, daring not to look across at him, instead I elbow him and the car jerks to the side. "Hey! Just drive and chill out."

"Then don't piss me off," I growl.

"So how come you were sent to get me?" he asks, and I can see him looking at me from the corner of my eye.

"Last minute meeting with some alpha popped up and you know how Dad is, work comes first," I reply, shrugging. I don't miss the frown as he looks away. There it is again… that dislike towards me. He's never had an issue with Indigo calling Jackson ‘Dad', but when it comes to me, it's always irked him, and he's never made the effort to even hide that. I don't know what I've done for him to dislike me so much.

"Makes sense," he mutters and turns away. Ok, maybe now he's trying to hide it, but he still hates it.

"Why didn't you just run the rest of the way back?" I ask, trying to change the topic, and I can sense my wolf's agreement. Although we have a presence in our minds, our wolves don't have a voice, but they can express their opinions through emotions. It's almost like a second conscience.

"Luggage, darling," he replies tauntingly, earning himself a frown. "What about Jessica, is she busy with baking?"

"Yep, I thought she didn't have anything for today, since she had this day marked on her calendar for over a month. But then some last-minute order came in, and the bride was crying and begging, so she agreed. She's been up since like 3am. And besides, both she and Dad asked what was the point of buying me a car if I can't be of some use with it?" I explain, pulling a face, which makes the corner of his mouth curl up again.

"I agree, freeloader," he teases, poking the side of my head with a finger, making me take my eyes off the road and glare at him.

"I am not a freeloader; I help at the pack restaurant on weekends… and I'm working at a salon too," I inform him, my glare fading away. Unlike Elijah, the smart, intelligent, pride of the family, I know I am a disappointment to them. I did a beauty course in college and then went on to apply at a local human salon. I was an apprentice for the first year and then a year later, I started getting paid fairly well.

"So you actually went ahead with that, huh?"

"Yup."

Mama had not been happy about that, preferring me to do something like Elijah and what was even worse was that Dad agreed with her because he said it wasn't a job with "security". Aside from his alpha duties, training, and everything else, Elijah has a business degree under his belt. Something Mama never lets me forget.

"Cool. I like the hair, it suits you," he compliments, surprising me.

"Thanks…" I reply, glancing at him suspiciously. He's up to something… "So, are you hungry? Shall we stop at a service station?"

"Yeah, let's. I'm fucking starved. You know the food on the plane is not edible," he muses, placing his hand on his washboard abs, pushing his seat as far back as possible and stretching his long legs a little.

"It isn't so bad," I reply amused, but saying that I don't really remember the last time I've been on a plane. I keep my eyes open, making sure I don't miss the signboard that will let us know when the service station is approaching.

Twenty minutes later , we finally reach the service station, parking in a nice empty space. We walk inside and order some McDonald's. Collecting our order, Elijah carries it to the table.

"I can't believe you can still eat four Big Macs," I remark, staring at his abs. He is an alpha. I totally get that, but still, even with all the workouts, it's unfair.

"I'm a big boy, Red, I need the fuel," he replies, placing the tray on the table and taking a seat. I slide into the seat opposite him and pick up my Filet-O-Fish. Opening the box, I look across at him, my stomach fluttering when his eyes meet mine.

"Are you still single? Or have you found a man that can tame that temper of yours?" he asks, biting into his burger. I roll my eyes. He's made enough jabs in the past that it was my feisty temper that men were afraid of.

"Very funny. I don't need a man who can tame my temper but one who can handle the heat," I reply icily.

"Oh yeah? I wonder how many men can actually handle the heat." His gaze dips to my chest before he smirks cockily. "I'll take that as a no, you're still single and dry." He snickers.

"Very funny, Elijah. How about you? Are you still a fuckboy, or have you found a mate who can tame your wild ways?" I counter mockingly. I refuse to answer his question. I know he hasn't found her or the entire pack would have known that their future Luna has been found.

He smirks. "I like my wild ways, Red. A mate would only tie me down from tasting whomever I want whenever I want. There are no rules when it comes to me." He leans forward and winks at me, making my heart thud loudly in my chest.

"What does that even mean?" I ask, with a toss of my hair.

"Figure it out, Red, figure it out," Elijah murmurs, his gaze dipping to my lips as I suck on my straw. He seems a little too distracted and I move back wondering if I've got something on them and lick them slowly. His eyes flash a dazzling deep blue before he frowns, irritation flashing across his face.

What is his problem?

I look down, focusing on my meal again. He seems ok one minute and then the next he's moody and pissed for no obvious reason.

"Since we're discussing mates, wasn't there a Blood Moon, like, a month ago?" he asks after several moments of silence.

For us werewolves, we can only find our mates on a Blood Moon, a phenomenon that occurs only two nights a year. It is on these nights, once every six months, as long as we are in the proximity of our fated mate, that the mate bond will snap into place.

"Yes, there was," I reply curtly, frowning down at my Filet-O-Fish.

"Shame," he murmurs, I don't bother responding as we continue eating.