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 THE NORSETON WOLVES MATE CALL
COLLECTION
This collection contains the first four stories of the Norseton Wolves series. In these
novellas, the Norseston alpha plays matchmaker for the pack’s lonely, rough-around-
the-edges, single wolves.
Contents:

Beast
_

Loner
_

Idler
_

Scion
 BEAST
Christina Stilton has waited all her life to become a wolf’s bride. Becoming mate to a
stranger in a faraway pack is the only chance she has to escape her Appalachian life of
poverty and abuse. She wants safety, but trusts The Fates to steer her toward love, too.

Love is the last thing on Anton Denis’s mind. He doesn’t want to saddle some hopeful
woman to him. A brutal fight left him scarred and half blind. He’s a mercenary who
can’t drive, can’t shoot straight, and on most days, can’t even crack a smile. He fully
intends to send his mate away—to give her a chance at being matched to some
stronger wolf—but stubborn Christina is intent on staying.

She might have been treated as a useless female back in Virginia, but her role in
Anton’s small pack is clear. He needs to be loved and loved hard, and she’s just the
woman for the job. She just needs to convince him to get out of her way and let her do
it.
 CHAPTER ONE

Christina Stilton had been trained her whole life to keep her gaze on the alpha
when he was speaking, but her pack’s alpha had been nothing like Adam Carbone. In
fact, now that she’d encountered Adam, she wasn’t certain her alpha had been a true
alpha at all.
She cringed reflexively as Adam approached her, and her heart pounded when his
howling laughter echoed through the desert expanse.
He nudged her chin up and turned her face this way and that. “I’m not going to
hurt you, girl,” he said. “Don’t know what it’s like where you come from, but we
don’t do that here. I’m just figuring out who I’m going to match you with.” He drew
in a long, deep breath and closed his eyes, holding in her scent. When he let it out, he
dropped his hand. “Hmm.” He didn’t qualify that hmm, just moved on down the line.
She didn’t like the sound of it, though—had heard too many like it in her twenty-four
years, and they were always followed up with some slight or abuse.
Christina and three other young wolf women had been flown into this place in—
well, she wasn’t quite sure where they were, but it was somewhere in New Mexico.
It’d been a long day for her. When her alpha had begrudgingly posted the mate call on
the bulletin board in the gathering place, she hadn’t had time to ask questions. She
wanted to be one of those four mates, and if she’d given Alpha too much time to
think, he might not have let her go. He’d make her stay in that hollow, just ’cause he
was mean and didn’t want anyone happy if he wasn’t.
She’d left her home in the Virginia mountains the evening before to be ready at the
airport for a very early flight—her first ever—and had spent most of the day either in
the air, in an airport terminal waiting for the rest of the wolf mates to arrive, or in that
van getting to this far-flung place. The van had smelled of gun oil and sweat, and with
her rough, stoic new alpha at the wheel, she should have worried about what kind of
trouble she’d signed up for. Answering a mate call was truly a form of gambling. A
girl could hit the jackpot and improve her situation by leaving her pack, if it was a bad
one. Or—she could end up somewhere even worse. But, Christina hadn’t fretted.
She’d slept, because what could be worse than her pack? They were good wolves; no
one could debate that fact. But being wily in their animal forms didn’t excuse them
from being despicable men.
 She twined and untwined her nervous fingers, willing her leg to stop bobbing. As
long as he’s kind—please just let him be kind.
She’d never tried to bend the ear of the goddess before, but now she hoped that the
wolf lady was listening, even just a little. Christina had never asked for anything. Had
never dared to. But after twenty-four years of silence, was hers such a big request?
The hard-packed orange earth seemed to spin beneath her. Pressing her palms to
the edge of the rustic wooden bench she shared with the three other mates, she closed
her eyes tight and concentrated on her breathing until the dizziness ebbed.
Get it together. They’re gonna send you back.
They were probably watching her now from the shadows, wondering what the
heck was wrong with her. Probably thought she was simpleminded, in addition to
being uselessly small. She forced her eyes open and dared to glance over her shoulder.
The bench had been installed in a sort of courtyard at the intersection of six
concrete walkways. Five stopped at small, square adobe houses—one of which she’d
be living in with her mate, ostensibly. From where she sat, she couldn’t tell where the
sixth walkway ended, as a house was in the way.
Her gaze tracked to the doorway of one of the houses, and there she found
someone’s would-be prize.
Sit up, you idiot. She straightened her spine and looked over her other shoulder,
too. There were two more males behind her.
One, two, three handsome wolves…
Only three. What does that mean? The mate call had stated that four mates were
needed for this unnamed pack. If she’d known the number was just a darned estimate,
she might not have come. In a competitive scenario, there was no way she’d beat out
the other three women. No way, no how. She wrung her hands, only to stop when
realizing how still the others were. Bored, even.
Of course they were. This might have even been a step down for them. So many
packs had left their rural hunting grounds behind for the convenience of cities. The
women Christina shared that bench with looked worldly in a way she wasn’t
—experienced. Their stylish jeans clung just right. Their makeup might have worn
off, but their pore-free skin and manicured eyebrows suggested that they knew how to
use it. They wore their hair shorter than all the girls back home did, but then again,
they were probably allowed to. Christina would bet good money—if she’d had any,
besides the two hundred dollars wadded up in her sock—that they were women used
to having some freedom. They’d probably put up a good fight to keep it, whereas
Christina was struggling to just get a taste of it. Desperate, needy, pathetic wolf.
If the wolves only needed three brides, she’d surely be the one left out. That was
common sense.
“Where the hell is Anton?” Adam, now at the other end of the bench, called back
to the wolves in the shadows.
“Beast didn’t want to come outside to play,” one said.
So, there were four. That didn’t make her odds sound any better, though. She’d
end up with that “beast,” knowing her luck.
Adam swore a blue streak under his breath before walking back to Christina’s end
of the bench. He fixed his dark, wise stare on her for so long, she’d feared the Earth
had stood still, but she couldn’t pull away from his gaze. Wouldn’t dare look away
from her alpha. He could ruin her life, or change it for the better, all with the snap of
his fingers. She still held out a little hope that he’d have some mercy on her, and that
the goddess was with them on that day, guiding his decisions.
“Hmm.”
He moved on yet again to the woman beside her, and having had his second look,
Christina buried her face in her hands, blocking out all of the noise around her.
She got skipped. Wasn’t even good enough for the one they called “Beast.”
She didn’t know how long she’d been sitting there, covering her face in shame.
But when she looked up again, the other three women were gone. Turning slowly, she
observed that the three men were, too. And where did Adam go?
She sighed. “Probably to get my suitcase.”
He was bound to throw her back.
Well, she wasn’t going to go. There had to be someone else who’d take her—
maybe some bottom-rung wolf, too weak to be a threat to his pack. She’d have to ask
Adam if there were other calls.
Resolved, she nodded. That was what she’d do.
___
Anton Denis rooted through the canvas duffel bag on the desk in his spare
bedroom in search of his hunting knife. Where did the damned thing go? He’d last
seen it during that short-term contract security gig they’d taken in Vegas. He needed
the knife now, but seemed to remember that the thing needed cleaning, and badly.
“Where the hell is it?”
He overturned the bag and exposed all of the weapons inside it to the light.
The front door slammed as he pawed over them, and he rolled his one good eye
preemptively. There was only one asshole that would enter Anton’s house without
permission. Then again, Adam didn’t need it. He could do what he wanted—alpha’s
prerogative.
“What the fuck are you doing, hiding out in here?” Adam barked.
“Not hiding.” Anton grabbed the trashcan from beneath the desk and tossed some
wadded fast food wrappers that one of his packmates must have stowed in the weapon
bag. Goddamned slobs.
“What do you call it, then?” Adam asked.
“Working. What’s it look like?”
“Looks like hiding to me.”
Anton dropped the trashcan into its former position and gave the alpha a sidelong
look from his right eye. His eyes always tried to cross when he looked straight on for
too long. According to the doc, the good right eye was still trying to compensate for
his blind left one. It’d take a while to settle, he’d said. “I’ve got five rifles full of salt
and desert sand to clean before my next shift. I’m working.”
“I gave you an order,” the other man said. He leaned against the doorframe and
crossed his arms. “You were supposed to be outside so I could do the matching.”
Anton didn’t bother suppressing his scoff. Adam had to know how Anton felt
about the situation. A year ago, maybe he could have been paired up with a real fine
wolf, but he hadn’t been ready a year ago. None of them had. Wolves didn’t take
mates until they had homes. Until now, they’d been nomads. The moment they’d
gotten settled in good in their new homes in the community of Norseton, New
Mexico, Adam had put out a call for female wolves. Sight unseen, apparently, they’d
come to the place.
Anton grabbed two rifles and squeezed past his alpha to the hallway. “I don’t need
your pity, Adam.”
Adam followed right on his heels. “You get outside and claim your mate right
now, Anton. And in case you couldn’t tell, that was an order, too. I don’t reckon you’ll
want to ignore two in a row.”
“For fuck’s sake.” Anton set the guns on the kitchen table and flicked on the
overhead light. “Saved the last one for me, huh? She must be a prize.”
“No, you arrogant asshole,” Adam said through clenched teeth. “I picked the first
one for you. Go out there now and invite her into your home, or me and you are going
to have a problem.”
Growling, Anton raked a hand through his unkempt hair and yanked. “I didn’t
want you to do this!”
“Tough. Shit.” Adam got in his face, nearly nose-to-nose.
 Anton didn’t back down, but he sure as hell wanted to. If he did, though, he’d be
even worse off. Last fucking thing they needed in their pack was a cowardly wolf.
Adam’s dark eyes narrowed to slits. “It was time. Now, for the last time, boy, the
temperature’s dropping quick and the sun’s going down. So you get your ass out there
and get her, or I will pound you into one of these adobe walls. Do you understand
me?”
Anton let out a ragged breath and closed his eyes. “Yes, sir.”
“Go on, then.”
Anton led him to the door, and every step felt like a slog through quickly drying
concrete. It felt even worse than being dragged off to the gallows. He was off to meet
the woman Adam had doomed to be with Anton.
Poor little bitch.
 CHAPTER TWO

The woman’s back was turned to Anton and Adam, but Anton could see that it
was narrow and slumped. Her black hair was pulled into a dense, braided bun on the
top of her head, and her clothes—what he could see of them—seemed plain. Long
skirt with some kind of flowery pattern, and a long-sleeved denim shirt, though it was
really too hot for it.
“She’s only got two bags,” Adam said. “Come on to my place and get them.
Maybe by the time you’ve got them, you’ll work up something civil to say to her.”
Anton growled, but cut across the courtyard with his alpha.
The woman didn’t move as they neared, and with her head bowed low like that, he
wondered if she was asleep.
He turned his head for a better look and caught her lush lips moving in profile.
Not sleeping. Praying.
He groaned. She’d need all the prayers she could get.
Adam pulled open his screen door and said, “Be right back.”
The woman still hadn’t moved. She kept her head down, and wrung her hands
atop her lap.
She was small. He couldn’t tell how old she was from where he stood, but
somehow he knew that she wasn’t anybody’s last pick.
She was…
He turned his head to the right for a different angle.
She’s beautiful. Delicate features, like a doll. His doll, now. Unless she wanted to
leave. If she saw him and wasn’t attracted to him, he’d have to let her go. That wasn’t
the wolf way, though, just Anton’s way. Once the alpha made his picks, they were
binding. An alpha pick was as good as a marriage license in their community, but
Anton still wanted the doll to have an out. She had her whole life ahead of her. If
she’d thought she’d be going to New Mexico to get matched up with a cranky, thirty-
five-year old mercenary werewolf with one good eye and a suspended driver’s
license, she might not have made the trip.
 Adam dropped an overstuffed tote bag at Anton’s feet, rousing him from his
meandering thoughts. He let the screen door slam closed and pulled the rolling
suitcase to a stop in front of Anton.
“There you go, lover boy. I’ll be by in the morning with your paperwork.”
Adam turned, as if to disappear into his house, but Anton grabbed him by the
elbow before he could manage to. “Wait. Come on, don’t you think that’s hasty? I
mean, given the circumstances.”
“What circumstances are you talking about? This is the way we’ve always done it.
Your aunt’s not going to stand for these women living under your roofs without y’all
being married properly.”
“But—” Anton caught his assigned mate moving in his periphery and reflexively
turned to look at her.
Her lips parted, eyes widened, and cheeks flushed—almost like she was ashamed
to have been caught looking.
You can look at me all you want, sweetness. Can’t say you’ll enjoy the view.
He turned back to Adam. “Look, she could do better is all.”
“Better is subjective. You going to stand here and second- and third-guess my
picking, or are you going to go do what needs to be done?”
Anton grabbed the suitcase handle and snatched up the tote by the strap.
“That’s my boy. Call me if you need anything.” Adam went into his house, closed
the door, and locked it with a resounding click.
Anton turned to his would-be mate and shifted the bag’s strap on his shoulder.
She was just waiting there for him, all wide-eyed and expectant. But just what had
she been expecting? Not someone like him, probably. She probably thought she’d get
a whole man, not just the shattered remnants of one. He was pretty sure there were
still bone shards floating around beneath his skin from when his eye socket had been
destroyed. All that metal in his face made going through airport security a real good
time.
All right. He shifted his weight. Let’s get on with it. See how long it takes her to
run.
He canted his head toward his house. “The door is unlocked. Make yourself
comfortable.”
She blinked at him for a few beats before reaching for the battered leather purse
beside her. She slowly pulled the strap up to her shoulder and stood. Doing so didn’t
change her height all that much.
 He grimaced. Tiny.
She held the purse tightly to her belly and moved in a hunched but graceful line to
the door.
It was a defensive posture if he’d ever seen one. She’d probably gotten used to
having people hit her as often as talk to her. Common shit in wolf culture. Too much
fucking egomaniacal testosterone. Too many men who couldn’t discern the difference
between alpha and asshole. Shitty thing was that packs didn’t have to act that way.
Folks were just used to it now.
God. He rubbed the meat of his palm against his good eye and let out a slow
breath. She was amongst a pack of hired thugs now, but none of the wolves in his
pack would ever lay a hand on her, or any of the women. They were too valuable to
hurt. For every male wolf, there was something like zero-point-six females. It was a
wonder Adam had managed to get all four of them, and Anton didn’t really want to
give his up now that she was here—he was nothing if not practical. But she needed a
man who could take care of her. He could in most ways, but the sensual ones weren’t
to be dismissed. She surely wouldn’t want him touching her.
The little doll stepped into his house and paused just inside the threshold. She
made a little “Huh” sound before moving in any farther.
What’s that about? Maybe she’d expected more.
He set her bags near the entry and left the storm door open so some of the late
afternoon sun could stream into the living room. And also so she could see that she
had an easy way out, if she wanted it.
He nestled her purse onto a shelf of the bookcase cluttered with various gun
accessories, then turned slowly to him. Her lush lips flattened into a tight line and her
small hands fluttered up to her shirt buttons. She deftly unfastened them all, and he
simply stood there, mesmerized by her efficiency…and was desperately aroused by
the beaded pink nipples and high, round breasts she exposed when pulling apart her
shirt’s plackets.
She managed to stay still as she twisted her shirt in front of her belly and stared at
him.
The fact that it took him so long to work out her motives frightened him. Already,
he wanted her too much, and she clearly wasn’t horny. She was simply waiting on her
bite.
He groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. It was the wolf way. Females were
bitten by their new mates right after they were matched. Not only did the bite imbue
her mate and protector’s essence into hers, broadcasting to whoever was sniffing that
she was off the market, but also the enzymes shuffled her DNA around a bit. Female
wolves didn’t shift until they’d been bitten—until they were prepared to breed and
protect their young.
He closed the distance between them, took her shirt, and pinned it up against her
naked breasts. Out of sight, out of mind. “You don’t have to do that,” he barked.
A lovely red flush spread up her neck to her cheeks. “I-I don’t understand.”
Groaning, he raked a hand through his hair and turned from her. The more he
looked, the harder it would be to let her go. “I don’t know what kind of information
Adam put out there or what you were expecting to find here.”
“There’s never much information,” she said quietly. “Only how many females are
needed and how far away the men are.”
Anton sighed and fixed his gaze on the stun gun that needed repair. Anything but
her. Women really drew the short straws when it came to being matched. That was the
way it’d been done for as long as anyone could remember, but it didn’t seem fair to
him. It wasn’t enough for a woman to just smell right to the alpha. Chemistry still
counted for something. And attraction. It shouldn’t be so one-sided.
“Please don’t send me back,” she whispered. “I can’t—won’t—go back there.”
He closed his eyes and clenched his hands to fists. Knew it—she’s desperate. A
few deep breaths didn’t ease the roiling in his gut any, so he turned and walked to the
door. “We’ll find you somewhere else. I promise, it’ll be somewhere where you won’t
get beat up.”
She flinched, and her mouth opened, but he was out the door before she could get
any words out.
He didn’t want to hear her tell him that it was okay and that she’d get used to him.
He didn’t want that kind of pity.
___
My man is so fine. But he sure was confusing.
Christina stood in the doorway of her mate’s house, holding her shirt over her
chest, and looked at the big werewolf from head to toe as he conferred with his alpha.
Their alpha.
“That one’s mine,” she whispered to herself. She could hardly believe it was true.
He was tall and broad, like all the wolves in their little enclave seemed to be, with
dark hair that skimmed his jaw and didn’t quite completely hide the black patch over
his left eye. He looked a bit like a rakish pirate, but was outfitted in blue jeans and
motorcycle boots.
She giggled.
 He was so confused. She could sense his hesitation. Female wolves didn’t have
many courtship advantages when compared to the males, but they had good noses.
Good guts. His hormones had spiked the moment she walked into his house. He
wanted her. Wanted to take care of her. She could tell. But, something was holding
him back. Whatever it was, they’d get past it—as long as he didn’t make her leave.
She pushed her arms back into her shirt’s sleeves and pulled the plackets together
as she sat on his sofa.
Moments later, he returned, expression drawn and skin pale. He leaned his back
against the door and tipped his head down. His hair fell into a curtain over his eyes
and he drummed his fingers against the doorframe.
Certainly a man like him has had some experience with women, so what’s the issue
here?
“Adam says he’s not sending you away.”
“I’m glad. I don’t want to be sent away.”
There went another one of those wild hormone spikes. This one tasted of anxiety
and fear. She furrowed her brow.
“You don’t have to say shit like that. I know you girls are trained to tell us what
we want to hear, but you don’t have to waste your breath on me.”
“Oh.” She pushed her top button through its hole and stared at her lap. “I’m
actually not that clever. I’ve never been any good at comebacks or flirting. I tend to—
to speak plainly, I guess.”
He was quiet for so long that she risked a glance up at him.
He’d turned his head slightly and eyed her through that veil of wild hair. She
sighed. The wolf needed grooming. She’d put that on her task list for right after she
got her bite and papers: bathe him well, then—she scanned the room around her and
what she could see of the kitchen—organize his life. If there were a filing system for
weapons, she’d figure it out and implement it.
“You the quartermaster?” she asked.
“Yeah. Most of the guns belong to the other guys. I can’t see worth a shit to shoot
anymore. I used to be a two-eye shooter, and my blind eye was my dominant one.
Need more range time to adjust for it.”
The injury must have been recent.
She pulled her feet up beneath her on the sofa and licked her dry lips. Keep him
talking. She patted around in her head for conversational tidbits. She hadn’t been
kidding when she’d said she was no good at flirting. Some of the girls she knew
would have foregone the flirting altogether and just taken their clothes off. Well, she’d
already tried that. Obviously, her mate—
Wait, what’s his name, again?
She thunked her palm against her forehead. Duh.
“I’m Christina,” she said. “Christina Stilton.”
He straightened up a bit at that, so he seemed to be looking down at her now. Of
course, from his height, he’d always be looking down at her. He’d probably have to
hunch just to put his arms around her. The wolves were shorter where she came from.
“Anton Denis.”
Anton. His packmate had called him “Beast.” That wouldn’t be happening
anymore. Not on her watch. There was nothing beastly about him, as far as she could
tell. She was usually pretty good at reading temperaments, if not intents.
“So, where are you from, Anton?”
He scoffed. “Everywhere, lately. Adam splintered us from a group that got too big,
just before we were going to be expelled, and we haven’t stopped moving since.”
Typical. Packs always sent the strong boys away before they could become threats
to the alphas and betas. Stupid practice. It left the packs unbalanced with a few strong
wolves, a bunch of weak males, and—well, a bunch of girls and women. “How old
were you?”
One of her brothers had left at sixteen. She hadn’t heard from him since, and he’d
left ten years ago.
“Fifteen, I think. But Adam is my uncle through marriage, so it’s not like I got
tossed out with a stranger.” He crooked his thumb in the general direction of Alpha’s
house. “My aunt lives with him.”
“Oh. That’s reassuring. Knowing there’s an experienced woman here.”
He grunted, and that curtain of hair fell over his face again. She wanted to go over
there and tuck it all behind his ears so she could get a good look at that handsome,
scarred face, but she didn’t have the courage at the moment. What if he refused to let
her get close? Her wolf needed some gentling.
“Anton?”
“Yeah?”
“Where exactly are we? I slept for most of the trip from the airport in
Albuquerque.”
His eyebrows bobbed and he pushed away from the door he’d been holding up.
“Middle of nowhere, basically. Hold on, I’ve got a map in here somewhere.”
 He disappeared into a back room and returned a couple of minutes later with a
Southwest atlas. He turned to a flagged page and ran his finger down a longitude line
to a spot that was, indeed, in the middle of nowhere. Just mountains and desert all
around. “Our hosts chose this land specifically because no one would bother them out
here.”
“Hosts?”
He grunted. “The pack made a deal with a group known as the Afótama. This is
their land. In exchange for a permanent home here, we’ve agreed to do security work
for them.”
“Why would they need security?”
“It’s a long story. Suffice it to say, they’re like us—not ordinary. They require
discretion, and we’re good at that. I imagine most of the ladies will find jobs with
them if they need something to do. My aunt works there, in the kitchen at the
mansion.” He chuckled. “Annoys the cook and feeds people behind his back.”
A chance at a job? He’d let me work?
“You’d—let me earn money?”
He turned his good eye toward her and narrowed it. “Earn it and spend it.”
She reached for him—to skim her fingers across his bisected eyebrow and the
satiny patch over his eye—but pulled her hand back. She didn’t want to offend him.
“Umm. Being productive is nice. I like keeping busy.”
He grunted, nodding. “Busy is good sometimes, but sometimes comfortable is just
as good. Why don’t you worry about the latter one?” He closed the atlas, returned it to
its shelf, and made his way to the back room.
Dismissed?
She pulled out a chair from beneath the kitchen table and slumped into it. So
standoffish. Well, if he thought that was going to scare her away, he had another think
coming.
She’d endured far worse.
 CHAPTER THREE

Anton had to get away from the house and the little woman in it, so he’d spent the
better part of the evening tracking though the New Mexico desert in his wolf form. He
memorized the landscape and its scents. Learned the noises—plucked out what was
natural and what wasn’t.
The human body he wore might have been disfigured, but his wolf form was
whole. When he shifted to his animal shape, he knew perfection, and he would have
stayed like that forever if he didn’t have certain obligations to his pack and family.
They needed him to be a man with opposable thumbs, who could speak a complete
sentence every now and then. He always regretted having to shift back, though. He
used to have ambitions. But these days, ambitions were a luxury. His wolf didn’t have
ambitions—just hunger, and that was easy enough to sate.
Just before dawn, he reluctantly returned to his house, picked his discarded clothes
up from the doormat, and shouldered the door open quietly.
She had to still be asleep. She could probably sleep all day, given how busy the
previous one must have been for her. And if she slept, he’d have some time to think—
to figure out something else for her. He’d go crazy in his new home if she didn’t
leave.
He closed the door softly, and turned, clutching his clothes. He could probably get
a couple of hours of sleep before anyone expected him to do anything for them. Even
the quartermaster needed a day off every so often, and Anton had been working pretty
much fulltime, every day, for six weeks.
The floorboards creaked in the corner.
Shit.
He hadn’t seen Christina in his periphery because she was on his blind side. She
was next to the window. Still wearing those unflattering clothes, but she’d taken her
shoes off. She stood in her ankle socks, wringing her hands.
“It’s so quiet here,” she said softly, after a moment. “So quiet it’s almost loud.”
Yeah, he’d thought the same thing once. He gripped his wadded-up clothes against
his midsection and scanned the visible surfaces in the room. Where was his patch?
He’d taken it off…somewhere. Between the kitchen and front door, maybe? No way
to search for it discreetly. He shook his head so his hair fell over his face. “Uh,
couldn’t sleep?”
She shrugged. “I came out of the bathroom from washing up, and you were gone. I
thought maybe you’d be right back.”
“You waited up for me?”
“I tried to sleep, after a while, but I couldn’t nod off.”
“Because it’s too quiet?”
She nodded.
He grunted, tossed his shirt onto the coffee table, and stepped into his pants. He
didn’t think she could see anything worth noting. Their eyes weren’t so good in the
dark in their human forms. She’d just see shadows, and even if she saw more than
that, he didn’t really care. If he sent her along to the next guy with her having only
been minimally scandalized, Anton would consider it a victory.
“Go on to sleep, little wolf. Nothing’s going to happen to you.” Including him.
“You’re in for the night—err—morning?”
“Yeah.”
“All right.” She may have said it, but she made no motion to move, aside from
wringing her hands some more.
“You can have the bed. Sheets are clean. I haven’t had a chance to sleep on them,
so you don’t have to worry about fleas or anything.”
Was that a joke? Had he really just made a joke? He couldn’t remember the last
fucking time he’d done that.
Her laugh reminded him of wind chimes tinkling. Organic and unforced. She
moved slowly into the hall. “Are you coming?”
“Uh, no. I’m gonna stay up for a while longer. Catch up on some things.”
“You’re behind because of me?”
He shook his head, but realized she probably couldn’t see it. “No. I just always
have a lot to do.”
“Okay.”
The floorboard creaked yet again as she departed. He heard the mattress springs
creak as she climbed onto the bed, and the rustle of sheets as she pulled the covers
over herself.
He stood there listening until there was nothing left to listen to. No more
movements came from the bedroom. Just her soft sighing in sleep. He had to have
been standing there for a solid ten minutes.
What’s wrong with me?
Well, he knew the answer to that. She was wrong with him—and wrong for him—
and yet there she was, sleeping in his house.
He grabbed the afghan off the back of the sofa and settled down into the chair. He
curled up as best he could under the insufficient cover and closed his eyes. He’d
figure out how to get rid of her in the morning, once he’d slept some and could think
straight. He’d never had such a problem with thinking before, but he knew for sure
what had caused the dysfunction.
___
Anton was pretty certain he was dead. Either that, or he was on those fucking
painkillers again—the ones he’d taken after that fight when he’d been mauled so
badly. The damned pills had him seeing things that weren’t really there. He’d heard
things that no one else had. Music. Voices. He’d been tripping, and his packmates had
thought that was a goddamned hoot. He still hadn’t gotten them back for that.
He pushed his eyelids open, ready to meet either his maker or see the hospital
room he had to be in if he was on that shit again. Only angels sing like that.
His vision cleared and came into focus on the hunched figure of a pretty little
woman in a flower-print dress. She was matching his socks atop the coffee table. She
rolled two together and reached into the laundry basket for another pair. Her gaze fell
on his face, and she stopped singing, slapping a hand over her mouth.
“Don’t stop on my account. The singing, I mean. You don’t need to do my
laundry, though. I was going to get around to it.” Eventually.
“It’s a habit. Sorry.”
“Doing laundry?”
“No. Singing to myself when I’m working. I’d almost forgotten you were in the
room. You’ve been deathly still.”
He closed his eyes, rubbed them. Shit, the patch. He sat, holding his hand over his
eye and scanning the room. Had to be around somewhere. He needed to keep better
track of the damned thing or buy more of them. Except that he barely even had time to
buy groceries, or cook them, for that matter.
“Are you—are you looking for—” It seemed she didn’t know how to phrase her
question tactfully. Too sweet to know that tact wasn’t even required.
“My patch. You’d think I’d have more than one. Add another thing to the to-do
list.”
 “You left it hanging on the bathroom doorknob.”
He started for the hall.
“You don’t have to wear it on my account,” she said in a rush.
“It’s one thing to look at me when both my eyes are closed. But I know what I
look like when they’re open.”
“I—” she sighed, cutting off her own statement.
Just as well.
He grabbed the patch off the knob and fastened it around his head, scenting the air
in the process.
Piney.
He sniffed again.
Bleachy.
Cleaning stuff. He tapped on the bathroom light and practically lost his good eye
to a blinding brightness. The bathroom hadn’t been so clean since he’d moved in, and
he was the first owner. He whistled low. She’d even cleaned the baseboards and
shower curtain. How fucking long had he been asleep?
He turned off the light and returned to the great room. He squinted at the clock on
the satellite dish receiver box. 12:30. He hadn’t slept that late in months. He turned to
her next. She’d gone back to rolling his socks, and he wondered how he’d ended up
with so many pairs.
Oh. Right. He didn’t do laundry. Ever.
“Nobody came by?”
“It’s been pretty quiet. I saw a couple of your packmates passing through the
courtyard, but it seems like folks have been keeping to their own houses. Your aunt
did come by early. Brought an egg casserole. It’s in the kitchen.”
“What’d she say?”
“That she was sending your uncle over as soon as he finished meeting with your
bosses.”
Anton sighed and headed into the kitchen for some of that casserole. He bet he
knew exactly what Adam would have to say. Auntie had probably told him that
Christina didn’t have her bite, and he was going to visit to bitch at Anton.
Well, Adam had obviously been off his rocker, putting the woman in his house in
the first place.
Anton stood stunned in front of the counter. The casserole was there, yeah, barely
touched and covered with plastic wrap, but there was also a basket of biscuits and
what looked like a fruit salad.
Christina padded over, shy and quiet as a cat. “Uh, I went to the grocery store over
in Norseton with the girls and got some things. I didn’t know what you liked, so I
figured I’d just see—” She shrugged, clearly uncomfortable.
“You don’t have to cook for me.” He picked up a biscuit and took a bite, hoping it
was hard as a rock and blander than cardboard. Nope. Light and buttery. Its flaky
texture melted in his mouth like a goddamned snowflake.
Shit.
“I cooked every morning. I’m used to it. The men expected a little more than
bowls of cold cereal with milk.”
“They should have been happy that they got that much.” And happy she didn’t
punch them all on their stupid noses. He grabbed a plate from the cupboard and piled
on some food. “And I’m not picky. The casserole would have been enough, but thank
you for the extras. You really don’t have to do that.” He didn’t want her spoiling him.
“I wanted to. Besides, I have to eat, too.”
“Doesn’t look like you ate very much.”
She shrugged. “I tend to graze. Eat throughout the day, when I have time.”
The loud bleat of the dryer rang out, and she turned toward it. Before she could
shift her weight to take a step, he wrapped his left arm around her and pulled her
back. Instinctively. The wolf in him made her out to be prey trying to flee, but the
man realized that she was just doing his laundry, and he didn’t want her doing that.
She stood very still, stiff and not breathing as he held her there, but there was no
adrenaline spike. There should have been one. A woman like her—wolf-born or not—
should have been afraid of a man like him.
He heard her swallow. Her soft exhale when she resumed her breathing. Let go.
She felt so good against him, her soft curves against his muscled body, and her
trust was intoxicating. It was driving him toward the kind of delirium that would have
her stripped naked and on her back in his bed. He’d sink his teeth in her flesh,
marking her as his, despite the fact that he knew damned well he shouldn’t keep her.
Still, his hand moved up her belly to her chest, resting beneath the swell of her
breast. Barely a handful, but just enough. He palmed it, and immediately regretted it.
Shouldn’t touch her.
His thumb glided across her nipple through the thin fabric of her shirt and worked
it to a hard bead.
 She wrapped her fingers around his wrist, and he expected her to pull his hand
away—as she should have—but instead, she just held him there. Kept his hand
kneading and thumb working.
“This—this isn’t right,” he said. He managed to pull his hand away and take a step
back from her. Then another.
“Why?” She whipped around, and those wide, gray eyes held a glint of anger.
“Am I not pretty enough?”
“What? Why would you even ask that?”
“I know I’m not like the others, but I do the best I can.”
“You do just fine. Who told you that you didn’t?” He’d hurt them for making her
think she wasn’t anything but perfect. Fucking East Coast losers.
“You don’t think I’m smart enough? I’m not afraid of books.”
Probably not afraid to throw them, either, judging by the tart snap to her voice. His
little wolf had some spunk, apparently. “Trust me when I say that alphas rarely
consider intelligence when matching their wolves.”
“You holding out for someone taller? I know I’m not going to make much of a
wolf, but the women in my family have always been small, and we manage to pop out
pups, no problem.”
“Huh?” What the hell is she going on about? Maybe if he’d spent more time
around women in the past ten years, he’d have some idea of how to make sense of
them. His aunt was easy enough to read, but the one in front of him—shit. And pups?
Him, with pups? He’d never let himself imagine it, especially not in the last six
months.
“Do you think I’m too young? Is that it? Well, I’ll have you know I’ve been a
woman for years now.”
He could hardly believe he was seeing it, but sure as the sun was in the sky, she
was tugging up the hem of her dress and showing herself to him.
No panties. Not a snatch of fabric to be found, just a dusting of dark, silky hair
against skin just as tan as the rest of her. Nice to know she’d come by the coloring
naturally.
“I’m a grown woman,” she said. “Why don’t you taste me and see for yourself?
That’s what all the wolves said where I came from. One lick and they’d know if I was
ready for them.”
He changed his mind. He wasn’t going to merely hurt them. He was going to rip
their fucking throats out and make fur rugs to put under Christina’s bare feet.
 Clenching his fists, he swallowed and let out a ragged exhale. Focus. “Where are
your panties?”
“In the wash. When I got the call, I had to pack fast. I—” She shifted her weight,
nervously, it seemed. “I forgot some things.”
“We’ll have to get you some more.”
She canted her head and narrowed her eyes. “What’s wrong with you? You
should’ve been on top of me by now. Wolves aren’t known for their self-restraint.”
“You’re certainly testing mine.” His gaze fell to the tops of her thighs. Wet with
arousal. He hadn’t wanted to believe that was what he’d been smelling—her desire.
For him, though? She was either hard up, or as blind as he was. “How’s your vision,
little wolf?”
“A little better than twenty-twenty, last time I had it checked.”
“Shit.”
She let down the hem and with a sigh, turned on her heels. “You’re out of dryer
sheets,” she said softly.
Dryer sheets? “What?”
She stopped. Spun. “You know, dryer sheets. The things you put in the dryer to get
the static out of your clothes. Can’t put anything on a clothesline out here. It’s too
dusty, and there’s nowhere in the house I can set up a drying rack.” She shrugged.
“Have to use the dryer.”
“I’ll need to buy some, I guess.”
“How is it that you don’t know about dryer sheets? Who usually does your
laundry?”
He cringed. There really was no good answer to that question—at least, not one
that would cast him in a good light. “I do.” Sometimes Auntie came over and started a
load, but up until recently, they were all on the road, and they’d wash their clothes at
whatever Laundromat was nearby. He did know how. “And you don’t have to do my
laundry. I’ll get around to it.” Someday.
“How long has it been since you’ve washed those pants?”
“My pants?” He looked down at them. Who keeps track of that kind of thing? He
just put on whatever looked clean enough, and pitched them into a pile when they got
too much dirt on them. “I don’t know.”
“You’ve got mud all around the bottoms. Take ’em off.”
It was as if she wasn’t making good sense, given that he didn’t know how to
respond, or even if he should.
 “Anton, take them off. I’m washing a colored load.” She held out her hand and
made a gimme gesture. “The shirt you had on last night, too.”
Grumbling, he unbuttoned, unzipped, disrobed, and handed her the items.
She went off in an indignant huff.
“You don’t have to do my laundry,” he said for what seemed like the umpteenth
time. Maybe if he kept saying it enough, she’d eventually believe it. “Or cook for me.
Or clean stuff. I’m a grown man, and I can do all those things.”
“Doesn’t seem like you’re doing a very good job of them.”
His mouth flapped open for a few beats, but as no retort came forth, he closed it
and headed into his bedroom for new pants. Fuck waiting for Adam to come by and
yell at him. Anton would cut him off at the pass and make sure he spoke his mind
first. What the hell had the man been thinking?
Probably that Anton needed a keeper. Well, maybe he did, just not this one.
 CHAPTER FOUR

Christina wasn’t a fan of guns in general, but she’d had no choice but to learn to
be comfortable around them. Her brothers kept chests full of rifles and shotguns they
used for sport and hunting when in their human forms. She could even shoot one if
she had to, but preferred to admire them from a distance.
A great distance.
The sound of them going off in close quarters always stoked her anxiety to
unmanageable levels. She’d make a damned skittish wolf, she knew, but she couldn’t
be anything but what she was. Anton would have to take her or leave her.
Well, no, not leave her, which she suspected he fully intended to do, but she
simply wasn’t going to let him. He had yet to give her one good reason why he
couldn’t mark her, and she was starting to think that he didn’t have one. So, she’d just
keep on as she was. She refused to go back to that place, and she wasn’t giving up her
mate to some other bitch. For the first time in her life, she was actually willing to fight
over something, and what better thing than Anton?
Picking up a gun to clean seemed the next logical component of the day’s chores.
There was a whole shelf of them just waiting for some attention. More things for
Anton to eventually get around to.
He’d pulled on some clothes and gone storming out of the house as she loaded the
washer. She’d heard yelling coming from the general direction of Alpha’s house, but
she didn’t bother to get up and look. She had too much to do to concern herself with
her wolf’s temper tantrum.
She had just finished putting the last screw back into a .50 caliber rifle—what on
Earth did they need a gun of that gauge for?—when Anton threw the front door open.
What she could see of his face that wasn’t covered by his eye patch or his hair was
flushed, and his mouth was drawn into a frightening grimace.
She set down the screwdriver and placed the gun on the coffee table.
“What are you doing?” His voice was a restrained growl.
“I just cleaned it. I know how.”
He stood there staring for a minute. His accusatory gaze went from her to the gun
and then back to her.
“I used to clean my brothers’ all the time. They didn’t have guns like this, but
most guns are easy enough to figure out if you’ve handled a few different types.”
“There’s nothing easy to figure out about that particular rifle. That’s why it’s been
sitting on that shelf for three weeks.”
He didn’t believe her. Of course he didn’t believe her. No one ever did.
She pressed her lips tight and took in a deep breath through her nose. She wasn’t
going to cry. She wasn’t going to go hide in some dusty corner like an Appalachian
Cinderella and let her hurt feelings escape through her teardrops. She was tired of
being pathetic, and if he didn’t believe her, she’d make him.
She stuck out her chin and crossed her arms over her chest. The posture felt
foolish, but it seemed like the right thing to do. “Check it, if you’d like.”
“Yeah?”
After a moment, he walked over and picked it up. He sat with it and the tools at
the kitchen table, moving all of the piled-up junk out of the way. And she stood there
watching him disassemble it, check all the parts—scrutinizing them with his good eye
—and put it back together.
“Well?” She tapped her foot against the floor impatiently, awaiting the critique of
her work.
“You did good.”
She stopped tapping and unclenched her fists. “Excuse me?”
“You did good, little wolf. You’ve just got to use the right size screwdriver so you
don’t strip the screw heads.”
“Oh.” She wrung her hands, shifting her weight. “I’m so used to—to using
whatever is handy.”
“Understandable.” He pushed back from the table and carried the gun to its empty
case in the living room.
“I—I can fix other stuff, too.” Try a little harder to not sound like an idiot, why
don’t you?
“Yeah? Like what?”
“Cars, a little. Household stuff, too. I didn’t have much of a choice growing up. I
was the smallest, and I used to have to crawl into or under things and figure out why
they weren’t working.”
He stood and turned to her, pushing his hair back from his eye. He didn’t say
anything, just stared. That whole, man of few words thing. She certainly understood it.
She’d never known a male wolf who’d been much for talking.
She swallowed and started for the fridge, knowing there wasn’t much in it. “Um—
we need to go to the store. Can’t survive on frozen steaks.” She hadn’t had enough
money to do any real shopping earlier. She would have spent every dollar to her name
if she had any idea of what he liked, though. He’d claimed he wasn’t picky, so she
was going to test that statement.
“It’s all I know how to cook. I just put them under the broiler.”
“I’ll go.”
Another long stare, followed by more silence. Then he reached into his pocket and
pulled out his wallet. He just held it out to her without opening it.
“Okay.”
Clutching his wallet, she walked to the front door and stepped into her shoes.
“I could get one of the guys to drive you.”
“Don’t bother. I won’t be carrying more than two bags, probably. It’ll be nice to
have a store in walking distance. Won’t waste half a day going and coming.”
“Other kinds of stores are there, too, if you need anything.”
“I’m fine.” She pressed her lips together, knowing it was a lie, and knowing that
he knew it was a lie. She just didn’t want him to think that she couldn’t make do. Or
that she was weak.
Beyond working his jaw side to side for a few beats, he didn’t respond.
“I’ll be right back, then.”
He just watched her leave. Knowing her luck, he’d change the locks while she was
gone. Too bad for him, if he did. She knew how to pick them.
 CHAPTER FIVE

Adam had put his foot down, adamant that Christina wouldn’t be sent away, and
he’d given Anton two choices: deal with it, or get the fuck out.
A male wolf without a pack was a dead wolf. He could always try to integrate into
some other group that was short on muscle, but he appreciated the balance of his
current one. They were his family, and—like them or not—on most days, they
watched his fucking back. They may have teased and taunted after he’d gotten
mauled, but when they were all in the thick, they fought, even killed, for Anton. He
didn’t want to give up his pack for a woman, but he also didn’t want to take the
woman, either.
All he could do was hope that she’d get tired of him soon and leave on her own.
He’d said as much before leaving Adam’s house, and Auntie had laughed and
laughed.
He harrumphed and yanked up the overflowing bag from the trashcan.
Christina pushed in the screen door at that moment and carried two canvas grocery
totes into the house. “I love that place. They’ve got everything!” she said, eyes bright
and wearing a beaming smile that could have lit up the night sky. “I’ve never seen
anyplace like it, with all of the gourmet stuff and whatnot. Kind of expensive,
though.” She set the bags on the counter.
“Community owned and operated,” he said. “Gotta pay a premium to get
commodities way out here. Everyone who lives in Norseton is in on the secret, so
they’ve got to have their own stuff. Most folks are okay with paying a little extra
instead of driving an hour to someplace else to shop.”
“Well, I did my best not to spend you into the poorhouse.”
“Don’t worry about that.” He wasn’t exactly swimming in cash, but he could
certainly afford groceries. Mostly, he ate on the run on the way back from jobs or
before his security shifts over in Norseton. Sometimes, if he and Auntie were working
at the same time, she’d walk some food out to him.
“Okay. Well—oh!” She reached into one of the bags and drew out his wallet.
“There you go. Don’t worry, I didn’t memorize your Social Security number or
anything.”
 “I didn’t think you would.”
“Why not? Testing me?”
“No. Honestly, it just didn’t cross my mind. Am I wrong to assume you’re
trustworthy?”
“No. I’m just—used to being called a liar.”
He tucked the wallet into his pants, and she went to work putting things away.
Ingredient-type things he wouldn’t even know what to do with. Flour and shortening
—what was that even for?—various seasonings, oatmeal, eggs, and so on. He did
okay with steaks, but beyond that, his expertise in the kitchen ended at pouring
boiling water into instant noodle cups. Best he could tell, there were no noodle cups in
those bags.
He left her be and headed into the living room, grabbing another dirty gun off the
shelf as he went.
“Gonna make something fast tonight. Full moon. I figured you’d want to get out
and run.”
He sat on the couch and pulled his cleaning tools closer. “It’s not necessary. We
don’t always feel the drive to shift for the moon.”
“You don’t?”
He could just barely see her furrowed brow from his position. She was so damned
short that when he was sitting, the kitchen counter covered up three quarters of her.
“What kind of wolves are y’all?” she asked.
“Eurasian. We shift as necessary.”
“Pure?”
“More or less.”
“They didn’t ask for that—in the mate call, I mean.”
“No, Adam wouldn’t have asked for that. It doesn’t matter to us. A wolf is a
wolf.”
“If you start mixing, things get unpredictable. For the kids, I mean.”
“That bothers you?”
She opened a cabinet, rustled something within it, and closed it. “No. Figured it
would bother you.”
“Whether or not my pups will be compelled to shift for the full moon is amongst
the least of my worries.”
“But, you do want kids?”
 “I honestly haven’t given it a whole hell of a lot of thought, Christina. My kind,
we don’t even think about taking mates until we’ve got a home base—a den, I guess.
We weren’t in that position until recently. I imagine you want some?”
“The idea of them scares me, but yes.”
“Scares you? Why?”
“The little boys where I’m from, well, they’re…” Christina let the words trail off.
Water gushed in the sink, and then a pot hit the stove burner.
He set down the gun. “They’re what, little wolf?”
“They’re just awful, and you can’t tell them any better because that’s how their
daddies want them. I always hoped that if I had to stay there, I’d only have girls. Of
course, you can’t control that sort of thing.”
The stove burner clicked repeatedly before the pilot light caught the gas.
He stood and walked over to the island, leaning his forearms against the counter.
Her back was turned, and she stared down into the pot.
“There are other packs,” he said. “City packs. Rural packs. Everything in between.
They all run a little differently. You could have held out for any one of them. You can
usually tell who’s putting out the call if it’s coming from a big group. I don’t know
why you jumped at the opportunity for this one. I can’t imagine you’ll be happy
here.” With me.
“You must think I’m ambitious.”
“I think you can recognize opportunity.”
Her nod came slowly. “I guess I can.” She turned, but didn’t meet his gaze. “I took
a chance, knowing I wasn’t going to anyplace worse than I already was. So, if that
makes me an opportunist, so be it.”
“You deserve better than not worse.”
Now she did look up.
“Much more than that, and I’m sorry you didn’t get it. Adam says I can’t send you
away, but that doesn’t mean I have to bite you.”
“You just want me living here, like a roommate?”
“It’s the best I can offer you.”
“No, it’s not. There’s nothing wrong with your teeth, is there?”
“My teeth are just fine, in both of my forms.”
“So you’re opposed to marriage, then.”
 “I’m not opposed to marriage. I would have just preferred to be saddled with some
bitch that deserved defective goods. Then I wouldn’t feel so fucking guilty.”
If she was trying to look stern and severe with those narrowed eyes and that
adorable pout, she wasn’t doing a very good job of it. He couldn’t help it. He laughed.
“If intimidating me is your goal, you might try standing on a chair.”
She flicked the dishtowel at him and walked to the canvas bags, grumbling about
stubborn wolves.
Surely, she counted herself in that plural.
“I’m making spaghetti. If you insist on standing there teasing me for being
inadequate, at least be useful while you’re doing it.”
“You’re not inadequate, and what do you want me to do, little wolf?” This time, he
suppressed the laugh, but barely.
She stabbed her index finger toward the cutting board. “Chop that onion for the
sauce. Since you’re so tall and whatnot, maybe it won’t even make you cry.”
“I bet you’d like to make me cry.”
“You’d think I would,” she said softly, and peeled back the tape on the butcher
paper-wrapped tube of meat she held. “But I don’t.”
 CHAPTER SIX

Christina pulled her pillow over her head and let out a long sigh. So much
howling. Maybe the Norseton wolves didn’t need to shift for the full moon, but it
seemed that their ladies did. She could hear them out in the desert, baying at the
moon. They’d gotten their bites—their own marks—so they shifted now. For the first
time. Christina, on the other hand, remained fur-free and two-legged. An undesired
mate.
Anton was out there with them. He hadn’t wanted to go, and he told that to
whoever it was who’d come to the door. He’d said he had too many things to do, but
whoever it was had convinced him that he was needed out there. An extra pair of eyes
on the wolves’ mates, who might be disoriented in their new beast forms. They may
run off and forget there were women inside them.
They howled and howled and howled. She’d never hated the sound so much,
never hated being a wolf so much before that moment.
The pack must have moved farther away, because the howls became softer and
were spaced farther apart.
Finally, sleep overtook her troubled mind.
___
Christina dreamed of her reluctant mate. Of those full lips on her skin. Of his
hands on her feminine swells. Legs entwined, sharing a bed and—ultimately, their
bodies. She’d never been the forward type before—had never initiated affection,
knowing she wasn’t likely to get any—but how else was she going to get any in return
from him? Maybe if she touched him, he’d understand. She had to get him to touch
her, like the wolf in her dreams. The one who held her so gently but so firmly while
he pressed into her, sating his desire and filling her up. At the moment, she might
even be content with just holding hands. At least that would be something.
She lay awake in the dark. Something had pulled her out of her sleep, so she
listened.
Grumbling. Then swearing, coming from the front room. She pushed up onto her
forearms and canted her head.
 “Fucking rain,” came Anton’s mutter.
Yes. Rain. She heard the patters against the window now. Winter rain in the desert.
Is that an unusual thing? It wouldn’t have been back at home. Might even have been
snowing. Had felt like it was going to when she’d left.
She scooted to the side of the bed and turned herself out of it. She squinted
through the window and saw the rain bouncing off the stones in the empty flowerbed
next to the walkway. Probably wouldn’t rain for long, but it was a nice sound to sleep
to. Rain had always made her yearn for the bed. Sleep could wait a moment, though.
She headed toward the sliver of light beneath the bedroom door and pulled the
knob. From the adjacent bathroom, she could hear Anton’s grumbles. She padded
closer, enough to catch his reflection in the mirror he stood in front of. His injured eye
was closest to the door, so he couldn’t see her yet.
He was covered in mud. It was packed into his hair, stuck to every crevice and
bulging muscle. He closed his eyelids and rubbed a washcloth across them. The lid of
the left eye, though badly scarred, along with his forehead and cheek on that side, did
actually move, though not as much. When his eyes were open, his left eye’s lid was
always at half-mast, as if mourning its own loss. It was a loss. If both of his eyes were
the same deep, dark brown of the right one, she probably wouldn’t be able to look him
in the face. He’d be too intense. So handsome—beautiful, even—but hard to look at
for long.
Letting the cloth fall away, he blinked several times, and his head turned in her
direction. “I wouldn’t have seen you if you’d backed away,” he said. “But you sighed.
I heard you.”
“I did?”
He grunted and turned his face away from the mirror. “Can’t see worth a shit, but I
can still hear.”
“If I sighed, it probably wasn’t for the reason you think.”
“Humor me and tell me why, then.”
“I—” Christina stepped closer and nudged the door open a bit more. Why was she
hiding in the dark? “If I sighed, it was because you’re naked.”
“Happens a lot with shifters.”
“Maybe, but I’m only concerned with one particular shifter, and he’s naked and
muddy and maybe it’s not such a bad sight.” If his nose was as good as his ears, he
already knew what she thought of his body.
He turned, slowly, and leaned against the counter. Somehow, she managed to keep
her gaze above his waist, which was a feat indeed, considering he was making no
effort to conceal himself, other than the scarred half of his face.
“How’d you get so muddy?”
“Had to yank my cousin’s mate away from a flashflood. She wasn’t doing a very
good job of looking around. She was flailing a lot when I forced her back. That’s most
of the mud. I guess the rest is from the run back to the house. The rest of them are still
out there. Frolicking, I guess.” He rolled his eyes—rather, one of them. The blind one
didn’t make it all the way around.
“What’s so bad about frolicking?”
“Nothing, when you don’t have to get up early to go to work. We’re spread thin as
it is at Norseton, with there being only the five of us. We’re in charge of fleshing out
the security staff, but given our constraints, we don’t have a hell of a lot of options.
Hard to be picky when so few people are qualified for the job.”
“So you’ll be gone all day tomorrow?”
“Most of it. My shift’s between ten and ten, monitoring traffic at the gate and
keeping an eye on all the video feeds.”
“Sounds busy.”
“It can be. It’s why I’m always so behind on chores. I was going to hire someone.
Never got around to it for the same reason why we have trouble finding qualified
guards.”
“Gotta find people who can keep secrets.”
“Yep.” He pushed away from the sink, walked to the tub, and turned the water on.
He stepped into the shower and pulled the curtain closed without another word, but
she wasn’t done. Was she just supposed to go back to sleep, right when she’d finally
gotten him to talk a little?
She swallowed down her nerves and moved farther into the little room. “Um. You
said there were jobs to be had in Norseton.”
“Yeah. Typical domestic stuff is easy to come by. There’s always a lot of that to go
around. Just look at the bulletin board in the square. Folks are looking for nannies and
housekeepers. A few of the stores are hiring clerks, too.”
“I don’t think I want to be a nanny. I’d like a break from that. Housekeeping
would be okay, but it would be like having my own little business. I don’t think I’d
like that.”
“Don’t want to have to chase down folks to get your paycheck, huh?”
“I sure don’t. I’ll consider it, though.”
“What about a clerk job?”
 “Maybe. I guess it depends on what they’re selling and whether I know anything
about it.”
“I think you’ll pick it up, whatever it is, quickly. Shouldn’t be a problem for a
woman who knows how to put machines together.”
“That’s hardly the same thing.”
“Did you have any schooling at all?”
“I finished twelfth grade, but that’s it.”
“Well, I think that’s enough for most folks. All the guys in the pack have GEDs. I
wonder what you could have gotten into if you’d gone to college, though. Had some
formal education in engineering.”
“I’d probably end up back at home, with a fancy diploma and a bunch of someone
else’s little boys to tend to. When the mate call comes, no one cares how smart or
educated you are. You pack up and go, because you might not have another chance.”
“Is that what you all believe?”
“It’s the truth. I’ve seen it time and time again.”
“You don’t have to take a mate. You know that, don’t you? There’s no good reason
to, unless you just want to let your wolf out. You could take a—a human lover.”
Was that a note of hesitancy in his voice?
“I’ve considered that,” she said. “In spite of how much I dislike the culture
sometimes, I want to be a wolf. I like to think that I could be a better wolf than most.”
“I think you already are,” he said softly. He nudged the shower curtain aside a bit
and put his head out. His wet hair clung to his face and over his eyes, making him
look even more winsome, if such a thing was possible. “I hate to ask, but since you’re
here—”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Can you scrub the mud off the middle of my back? I’m sure there’s some there
that I can’t reach.”
“Oh.” She nodded eagerly and took the cloth he held out, pleased to do something
—anything—for him. All he had to do was ask.
He pushed the curtain a bit more to the side, nudged the shower head to spray
away from the curtain, and moved a bit more toward the tiled wall. “We can try not to
flood the bathroom.”
His movement away from the tub side meant she had to put her shins right up to it
to reach him, and even that was a strain. He was so tall, she had to grab hold of his
waist to leverage herself as she scrubbed.
 She started at his shoulders and worked down his tanned flesh, pausing every so
often to finger bruises and scars and ponder how he’d earned them. At one wide,
jagged scar just over his ass, she just had to ask. “Did you get that as man or wolf?”
His buttocks clenched as she traced along its ragged outline. “Uh, man. I rarely get
injured in wolf form.”
“What happened?”
“Got pushed off a roof during a fight. Hit my back on the side of a garbage skip
when I fell.”
She cringed.
“Par for the course, given what I do for a living. But don’t worry, I’m pretty
resilient.”
“I guess you are.” She scrubbed across the base of his back and swiped a trail of
soap across the top of his ass.
“I thought I got all the mud there.”
“Uh, just a little spot.” She thrust the cloth toward him and reached for a hand
towel.
He laced his hands beneath his hair and lifted it off his neck, then turned in a slow
circle. “See any more?”
As she dried between her fingers, her gaze fell down the length of his body,
focusing on the thick, heavy shaft between his legs when he paused.
“I don’t think I’m muddy there, little wolf.” He pressed his hand to his balls,
shifting left and right as if to check the crevices.
“Uh.”
“You seeing something I don’t? I’m relying on you to be my eyes right now.”
“Uh.”
He was growing right before her eyes. She swallowed down the lump in her throat
and raised her gaze to his face.
He wasn’t hiding from her now, but why would he? Everything else about him
was bare and exposed. Why not his face? His scars?
“You like looking at me, Christina?”
“I thought I told you that already.”
He reached past the spray of water and turned off the shower’s flow. “Some parts
of me more than others, huh?”
She grabbed a towel off of the linen closet’s shelf and tossed it to him.
 He dried his face before stepping out, and wrung the water out of his hair.
Shoulders next, followed by arms, belly. His thighs and calves in turn. He shook out
the towel and dried his back, watching her all the while. “You didn’t answer me.”
“I didn’t think you really wanted an answer.”
“I wouldn’t waste the words if I didn’t want some in return.” He pressed the
wadded terrycloth between his legs and rubbed it along his lengthening erection.
“Umm.” She dragged her tongue across her dry lips and ground her palms against
her eyes. “Stop doing that, and maybe I’d be able to answer you.”
“Doing what? Drying off?”
“No. Teasing me.”
“How am I teasing you? I’m sure you’ve seen dozens of naked wolves in your
time.”
“I have, but none of them were you.” And none of them could ever hope to be
anything remotely as fine.
“One dick’s more or less the same as another.” He eased past her, his hard shaft
brushing against her arm briefly as he crossed into the hallway.
He was all the way in the bedroom before her brain defogged enough for her to
come up with a retort. “It’s not just your—your dick.” She flicked the light switch off
and followed him into the bedroom.
He stood in front of the dresser, adjusting the cord of his eye patch around his wet
hair. His erection was still at half-mast in the mirror. He opened a drawer and pulled
out a pair of sweatpants.
“Why won’t you take a chance?” she asked.
“On what?”
“On me. Give me a try.”
“You’re not something to sample and play with. Not a candy in a chocolate box to
be bitten into and put back if the filling’s not to my liking.”
“You’re my mate. I was picked for you. That shouldn’t be an issue.”
He stepped into the pants and bumped the drawer shut. “You ever wonder if he
picked wrong?”
“Not even for a minute.” She cringed at her hasty response, and shoved her hands
into the pockets of her dress, pondering. “Well, maybe a minute.”
“See, you do have doubts.”
“Not for the reasons you’re thinking. From the way you looked at me at first, I
thought maybe Adam might have picked wrong. You were thinking about sending me
back before you even talked to me.”
“Any wolf with half a scruple would have done the same.”
“Why?”
“Come on, Christina. You didn’t come all the way out here thinking you were
going to be saddled with defective goods. I know that for certain.”
Defective goods? “You mean your eye? For heaven’s sake. I came out here hoping
to be useful to some wolf—appreciated—and if he liked me a little on top of that, it
would have just been icing on the cake.”
“You sell yourself short.”
“Looks like that makes two of us, then. You don’t think you deserve someone?”
“Deserve? No. Hoped there might be someone for me someday? Well, maybe a
tiny little part of me wanted that. But deserve? I wouldn’t put that word and you in the
same sentence, ever.”
She let out a long groan through clenched teeth and fixed her gaze on the ceiling.
Contractor white. It needs paint. Something soft and mellow to soothe her uptight
wolf. “Isn’t it my choice, too, Anton? Don’t I have a say?”
“I’m not going to let you throw your life away.”
“Why do you think I’d be so miserable, huh? You think I’m so completely petty
and vain that I’d allow myself to be distracted by what amounts to a very minor
imperfection, so much so that I’d outright refuse a match? A good match?”
He didn’t respond, so she pulled her gaze down from the ceiling and stared at him.
His forehead was deeply furrowed and lips pulled into a grimace.
“Tell me, Anton. What woman like me, in her right mind, would do that?”
“You should hold out for a wolf that could be alpha someday. That should be what
every female wolf hopes for, and let’s face it. I’ll never be that.”
He stalked around the bed, eye fixed on the doorway, and she seethed.
For him to have been so well traveled, he didn’t seem to have that great a grasp on
the world. Why would she give a damn about an alpha, when she couldn’t even win a
fair fight herself?
 CHAPTER SEVEN

He tried to get past her, but his little wolf grabbed him by the arm and yanked him
back into the bedroom. Well, he let her, rather. He had to be twice her weight. She
seemed insistent, so he stopped. He couldn’t keep saying no to her. Refusing her was
breaking him up on the inside, but what choice did he have?
“Don’t you dare walk away from me, as if what I’m saying doesn’t matter!” she
said with that pretty brow furrowed. He wanted to kiss every one of those worry lines
away.
“You just need a good night’s sleep. A clearer head will emerge in the morning.”
Her eyes went wide and cheeks reddened as if she’d been slapped. “You think I’m
hysterical! That I’m talking nonsense.”
Of course he wanted to press his palms to her face, to soothe the hurt he’d caused,
but he kept his hands to himself.
She stared at him with that innocent incredulity in her expression. So naive. If she
weren’t, she would have taken his offer to just go. To leave Norseton and hold out for
some whole, undamaged wolf.
“None of the others’ women have this problem.” The tearful catch to her voice just
about ripped his heart into shreds. He did have one, after all.
He swiped the pads of this thumbs beneath her bright eyes before the tears could
track down her cheeks. “None of the other wolves are like me, Christina.”
“And that’s probably a good thing, because I don’t think those women would
know what to do with them if they were.”
“Do you know what to do with me?”
She shook her head between his hands. “That doesn’t mean I’m going to stop
trying. Maybe Adam put me with you because he knew I would keep trying. It hurts
to be rejected, but I’m going to keep trying.”
“I don’t want to hurt you. That’s why I keep telling you to go.”
“I’m a grown woman. Remember that. I’m a grown woman. I know what it means
to be desperate, and maybe I am right now, but not because I can’t rustle up some
other wolf. I want this wolf.” She gave his chest a little thrash with her fists then
pressed her forehead to it.
He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and let out a long breath. She felt sorry
for him. A tenderhearted woman like her would see him as a project—something to
fix, like a car’s engine. But, engines weren’t supposed to be handsome, just
functional. He’d never be handsome again. She’d never know him as what he once
was.
“Anton…” Her fingers tucked into the front of his waistband, as if she needed to
cling onto him to stay upright. “You’re thinking too much. You think you know
what’s inside my head and what I feel. That’s why you keep coming up with your
ridiculous excuses. If you would really just listen to me, you’ll see it’s all so simple.
Do you want me?”
“That’s never been contestable, little wolf.”
“Would you fight for me?”
“Of course I would.”
“But you won’t bite me.”
“No. I won’t put my mark on you.”
She sighed and thumped her forehead against his chest a few times. “Fine.” She
looked up, eyes narrowed. “I’m not going away. I want you to understand that.
Whether you bite me or not, I’m not leaving. I’m staying with you. You leave, I leave.
I keep my promises. But I’m not gonna act like your roommate, either. You can’t
shame me like that in front of the others. You’re not gonna treat me like I’m less than
the other mates are.”
“What are you asking me for?”
“You don’t want to bite me, that’s fine. I don’t live and breathe to be a wolf. I
don’t need to be furry to know what I am on the inside. I know my heritage. But
you’re gonna talk to me as if I were your mate. You’re not gonna cast me aside like
trash you’re waiting to have picked up. I won’t be ignored.”
“You’re impossible to ignore, little wolf.”
“So act like it! Touch me. Hold me. Act as if you like what you see, and like you
still want me to be around when you wake up.”
She was trying to break him. It was becoming painfully obvious that was her end
goal. She may have been little and soft-spoken, but she had an engineer’s brain, and
was probably thinking up ways to unravel him, one heart cell at a time.
“Why would you be happy with just pretending?” Would it be pretending, though?
He did like what he saw, and of course he wanted her around when he woke up, even
if he didn’t think she should be.
She took a deep breath and cocked up her chin. “I’m not going anywhere. You
figure out a way to cope.”
“I—”
“Get into bed. It’s late. You said yourself you have to get up early.”
He furrowed his brow. “I do, but—”
“Get in the bed. It’s your bed. Get in it.”
“Bed’s not set up in the guest room yet. I can’t have you sleeping on the sofa.”
“I don’t intend to sleep on the sofa. I told you, I’m not going to be up in this house
acting like some impersonal roommate. We’re going to share a bed. Whether you bite
me or not makes no difference.”
It made plenty of difference, but he was tired of arguing. He let his hands fall and
made his way to the right side of the bed.
She turned off the lamp, and he watched her unbutton her dress in the faint light of
the moon coming in through the window. Frozen there, with his knee propped on the
edge and his palms pressed flat to the mattress, he stared openly. He could pretend to
be a gentleman all he wanted, but he wasn’t one. He fucking stared.
Stared at the faint outline of her nipples through her thin bra. Stared at the dark
thatch between her legs, because she evidently hadn’t found a pair of panties to put
on. She pulled an oversized, holey striped shirt over her head and climbed into the bed
on the opposite side.
“Well, get in. I can’t promise to stay on my side, and I’m not going to apologize if
I stray.”
Swallowing, he climbed in and let her pull up all the blankets she wanted. She
curled into a little ball with her back turned to him, and in seconds, her breathing was
slow and rhythmic, and her back rose and fell in sleep.
He could probably slip away—go take that spot on the couch again. But he
realized that she’d probably follow. He’d wake up to find her on top of his chest with
that shirt hiked up over her ass, and the next thing he’d know, his dick would be in
her, and he’d have no choice but to keep her—at least in his mind.
Nope.
Wasn’t going there.
He fluffed his pillow under his head and closed his eyes.
Wasn’t going there at all.
 CHAPTER EIGHT

Anton didn’t need an alarm clock to wake him up. He had tickling breath on his
chest and a warm leg slung over his thigh that kept bumping his morning wood.
He laid there, teeth clenched, staring at the ceiling and hoping she’d move.
God, he hoped she moved. Her body was situated so close to his, her pussy
pressed to his hip and her hard nipples stabbed against his ribs as she slept.
What was a wolf to do?
He turned his head enough to catch a glimpse of the digital alarm clock. Barely
four. Too fucking early to get up. Not enough sleep. If he wanted to get any, he’d
obviously have to move her.
Hmm.
How? Maybe if he rolled a bit, he could get her off of his numb right arm, and the
rest of his body along with it. He shifted a bit to lift his left shoulder, and those bright
eyes snapped open beside him.
She lifted her head, and it seemed to take her a moment to find her bearings. Then
she put her head back down and closed her eyes.
“Christina—”
“Too early to get up.”
“I thought the same thing, but I can’t sleep like this.”
“You don’t like it?”
He drew in a long breath and picked up her right wrist. Laying her hand on his
tortured cock, he asked, “What do you think?”
“I-I think—” She freed her hand, only to take his wrist. She dropped his hand onto
her ass and wriggled beneath it. “Touch me. Touch where my thighs meet.”
Against his better judgment, he slipped his fingers between her legs and drew back
a slick hand.
Fuck. It took everything he had not to swirl it around and breach her with a
fingertip, just to try her on for size.
 “Dreaming of you,” she said coyly.
“You were? What was I doing in your dream?”
“Want me to show you?”
His moral fiber shouted an internal, halfhearted No, but through his lips came,
“Yes.”
She shifted so she was between his parted thighs and slipped one small hand down
the front of his sweatpants.
He hissed when her fingertips skimmed over his cock head and reached for her
wrist.
She pushed his hand away. “No. I’m going to show you.” With shaking hands, she
tugged down his waistband and worked his dick out of his pants. Her mouth opened
and closed wordlessly, and she looked down at the thing, as if now that she’d freed it,
she didn’t know what she was expected to do with it.
He certainly didn’t expect anything. In fact, he hoped she’d get her wits back in
check and settle back down to sleep. The erection would eventually go away on its
own.
Probably.
Gods. He squeezed his eyelids shut as her soft palm pressed onto the head.
“I was holding you,” she said. “You were letting me touch you.”
“Was I?”
“You let me touch you here, and told me what to do with it.”
“That doesn’t sound like something I’d do.”
“I told you it was a dream.”
“And what did I tell you to do in this dream?”
“You told me to—to cup you here.” Her feather-light touch on the underside of his
sac made his ass clench. “Told me to hold you tight here.” Her fingers squeezed the
base of his shaft. Not tight—not in his opinion—but for all he knew, she was giving it
a hell of an effort. “Told me to squeeze you up to the top, like this.” Her fist worked
up his dry shaft, the gentle friction curling his toes, and the scent of her arousal
making his cock leak.
She stared at it, befuddled. Has she never touched a dick before?
“It’s pre-cum.”
“What?”
“Pre-cum. Seeps out when we’re aroused.”
 “What am I supposed to do with it?”
“Supposed to? Nothing.”
“I didn’t see that in my dream.”
“I’m sure the imagination has its limits. Never had the opportunity to fondle a
cock, I guess?”
Biting her lip, she gave her head a shake. “Never wanted to touch anyone’s before
now. Wolves back home don’t exactly evoke thoughts of passion.”
“That’s a shame.”
“It is what it is.” She slipped her fist back down to the base, and then up to the
head, this time running her fingers across the slit. “Slick.”
“Supposed to be. It has its uses.”
“Oh.” She leaned down as if to inspect it more closely, and he chuckled softly,
humoring her, because when was he ever going to have such an experience again?
The woman could dismantle and reassemble a gun that she probably didn’t weigh
enough to properly shoot, and could likely hot-wire a car and disarm a bomb, if she
were so inclined, but she’d never fiddled with a cock. He was happy to enlighten her.
Suddenly, her pink tongue flashed out in the dark and lapped up the slick pre-
ejaculate from the head. She couldn’t stop him from grabbing her wrists this time.
“Christina—”
“I told you I was going to show you what I was doing in my dream.”
“You were licking my cock in your dream?”
“You let me.”
“So it’s my fault?” Made sense. Of course it was. Somehow, it had to be.
“Let me.” She shook off his hands and wrapped both of hers around his shaft,
leaving the head exposed.
“You don’t have to.”
“You keep telling me what I don’t have to do, and disregarding everything I want
to do.”
Stunned, he closed his mouth. Was that what he’d been doing?
She lowered her head, and her dark hair fell like a curtain to obscure her face, and
his cock.
Her tongue lashed against his slit and around the head, teasing, tickling, arousing,
and all he could do was fist the sheets beneath him and clamp his teeth hard.
 Already, his nuts were drawn up tight, and the fire in his belly warned that he’d
certainly embarrass himself soon if she kept up her torture. But, he stayed still
because she wanted to do this to him. Maybe if she saw the consequences of her
actions, she’d be disinclined to push him further.
So, he relaxed as much as he could, and let her lick. Gently suck. Rub and fondle.
So gentle, she was. So curious.
“Hard to get my mouth around,” she whispered.
He pressed his lips together, because she wanted to do this, and discouraging her
would be a wasted effort. Besides, what man—or wolf—would ever say no to this?
She went at it again, moving her top hand so she could lick all around his shaft,
and then her bottom hand worked up and down to spread the slickness she’d created.
Her mouth closed around his head and sucked as she pulled him in.
Suck and pull, again and again. Rhythmless, but enthusiastic. It might have been
the sweetest blowjob he’d ever received, but he expected no less from her. Everything
about her is sweet.
“Am I hurting you?”
He barely managed to suppress the snort. “No, little wolf, you’d have to try a lot
harder to hurt me.”
“Don’t want to hurt you. I want to smack you every so often, but I don’t really
want to hurt you.”
“I’m sure I deserve the smacks.” And worse.
She tightened her grip around his shaft and glanced up at him.
“It’s all right. Doesn’t hurt.”
A little tighter. She resumed her tender sucks and tugs, and he let his body relax
and just feel. There was nothing wrong with that, nothing taboo about what they were
doing. Two consenting adults, doing a personal, adult thing.
She released her mouth’s light suction around his cock head to ask, “Faster?”
stroking him up and down all the while.
“Gods, if you want.” That’d be the gentlemanly thing—to not try to draw it out,
even though it felt so good.
After one more swipe of her tongue around his head, she leaned back onto her
heels and massaged him with both hands. Wringing him, squeezing him, tugging his
common sense down into his erection. When he erupted, his sense would be all gone,
and he didn’t give a damn at the moment.
He closed his eyes and thrust into her fists, grinding his teeth at the beautiful
friction, and not even caring to suppress the wanton growls vibrating in his throat.
And then, just as his belly started to burn and his cock ached with its impatience,
she stopped. Removed her hands. Shifted her weight.
He opened his eyes and found her straddling him. Lowering herself onto him.
He grabbed her hips and propped her up. “No, Christina.”
“You said you wanted me to show you what I was doing in the dream.”
“I draw the line at that.”
“Why? So you don’t have to take the blame for being the one who deflowers me?
Why not you? Why not right now? Makes no difference to me.”
“You don’t really believe that.”
“You’re right, I don’t. I want it to be you. I know you have your doubts about me,
but I’m telling you my truth. I’m not going to regret it being you. Why can’t you
understand that?”
“Because I’m a man?” he offered weakly.
She sighed and reached between his legs to prop up his dick. “Yes, you are. Let
me down so I can take care of you, Anton.”
“Doing my laundry is one thing. This goes above and beyond.”
“You’d go above and beyond for me, wouldn’t you?”
“I tried to, but you wouldn’t go away.”
As his words settled in, her expression flitted rapidly from sadness to anger,
stopping at what looked to be indignation. He figured that was better than making her
cry.
“I’m not going away. I’m going to make you get that through your thick skull,
even if it takes me the rest of my life to do it.”
“There are far more productive ways to be spending your life, little wolf.”
“That’s right. I could be cleaning that never-ending pile of weapons you have on
your shelves. Or seeing if I can’t set up a little greenhouse in the back, so I can grow
some fresh things. Maybe find some time to sign up for a library card. Or take some
classes.”
“You could do all of those things anywhere else.”
“Don’t you think I know that?” The tart snap in her tone made his mouth fall open,
but as he couldn’t think of any good words to give her, he closed it. She pressed a
shaking hand against his lips as if to make certain he wouldn’t speak—to object.
“I don’t think you understand what it feels like to be afraid all the time,” she
whispered. “The things I’m afraid of here are so, so different from what I got used to
back home. You figured it out. Sometimes, the men back there put their hands on me
in ways that weren’t so sweet, and I got to a point where I expected it. Do you know
what a relief it is just to feel safe? So safe that you let your guard down enough to feel
other things, too?”
He pried her hand away, kissed its palm, and placed it on his chest. “No. I guess I
didn’t know. You make me feel like an asshole. I was just trying to do the best thing
for both of us.”
“Without my input, but I guess I should be used to that.”
That was the shameful part of it all. He hadn’t been concerned with what she
wanted. He was too busy being noble by trying to send her away.
“Do you care what I want, Anton? Even a little?”
“Of course I do. A woman should have choices. I simply didn’t believe I was a
good one.
“Silly wolf. Stubborn pride.”
“What else would it be?”
“Yours, or do you think I’m talking about myself? If you think mine, you’re
wrong. You’re so wrong, Anton. Let me down. Let me feel you and show you how
much I want you just as you are.”
As I am.
He tamped back the objection that had floated to the front of his thoughts. No
more. He didn’t want to push his little wolf away to some other man, whole or not.
She was his. “Okay.”
She crinkled her brow. “Okay?”
“Mm-hmm. You win. If you’re not going to walk away from me—”
“I’m not,” she said quickly. “I’m stayin’.”
“Then I think I’ll have that taste of you now if you’re gonna insist on being such a
temptation.” He flipped her onto her back—no difficult feat—and spread her legs
before she could even try to sit up. “A man can only resist his mate for so long.”
Never before had he felt so shy about grinning. About flirting a little. It wasn’t too
late to offer her a little courtship. “You offered me a taste. Have you forgotten that
already, little wolf?”
She blinked rapidly several times and her mouth opened and closed wordlessly.
Obviously, his reversal had shocked her. “No. I didn’t forget. Does this mean—”
“Shh. We’ve done enough talking for now, I think. We can talk later and about
anything you want. You can have anything you want.”
“Including you?”
“Especially me.” He edged up her shirt and bared her sweet pussy for his
inspection. He parted her gently between his fingers and leaned in for just one lick.
“Mmm, I knew you’d be sweet.”
Her gulp was audible. Her quavering fingers dug nervously into the rumpled
covers.
“I could just eat you up, little wolf.” He pressed his tongue flat against her clit and
gave it a wiggle.
She clamped her thighs against his shoulders. “I won’t object.”
“I didn’t think you would. Anything like this happen in your dream?”
She shook her head hard and balled those sheets some more.
Next, he swirled the tip of his tongue around her aroused nub and pulled it
between his lips, drawing a soft moan from her that urged him on. He lashed his
tongue down her slit and flicked the tip in and out of her tight channel’s entrance,
inciting more writhing and the bowing of her back. “I’m gonna put in a finger and see
how wet you are for me. Does that sound productive?”
“Do it,” she whispered breathlessly. “Stop teasin’.”
“Nothing wrong with a little teasing.” He tucked a fingertip into her and pressed
his thumb to her clit.
“Oh!”
Slowly, he pushed his finger in to the second knuckle, barely suppressing his
compulsion to breach her fully and prepare her for his cock. So damned tight, and he
had to keep thinking twice before acting, because she was the only woman he’d ever
been intimate with who hadn’t already been broken in, so to speak. Wolves were
sexual beings. There was no shame in that, although most tried not to get too attached
to their partners if they didn’t think they’d make good, permanent mates.
“I’m the only one who has touched you here.” He stated it as a fact instead of
asking a question. “Only one who has seen you up close.”
“Yes.” She bore down onto his finger, greedily taking in more of him. He withdrew
it and slipped it back in, this time working it in a circle to relax her muscles. “Does
that make you happy?”
“That no one else has been close enough to taste you? Fuck yeah. I don’t relish the
idea of some other asshole touching you. But you have a knack for doing all the right
things at the right time, don’t you?” Even if doing so drove everyone else nuts.
 He pulled her clit into his mouth again and fluttered the tip of his tongue beneath it
while cautiously adding a second digit to his fingering.
She tensed around him and gasped, her knees digging into his shoulders.
“Relax, little wolf. I don’t want to hurt you.”
Try as she might, her attempt at relaxing just led to more spasms. He withdrew his
fingers and returned his tongue to her slit, wetting her and massaging until he could
work his fingers back in, along with a third.
“So full,” she whispered.
“Can you take a little more?”
She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, but nodded after a moment.
“You sure, little wolf? I won’t be able to put you back together if you regret it
later.” He rubbed the tip of his middle finger against the inner wall beneath her belly
button and made her legs shake. So wet now. So ready for him. He hoped, for a
change, that she wouldn’t be the one talking herself out of something while he was
being the one talking himself into it.
She nodded again. “Please.”
The magic word.
He eased up onto one palm and grabbed a pillow, propping up her hips. He did so
with purposeful eye contact, giving her one last chance to back out.
“I can do it,” she said.
“That’s not the issue. The real question is do you want to?”
“Yes. Please. But can you kiss me first? It’s important.”
Small concession to make. He leaned in and skimmed his lips across hers gently.
Not enough of a start for her, apparently, because she hooked her hand behind his
neck and pulled him down.
She sucked on his lip and he put his tongue into her mouth, wondering what she
thought of her own taste. He’d have to ask her later.
While she was distracted by the movements of his tongue, he pressed his cock
against her entrance and worked the head past the tight barrier.
She clamped down on his lip and moaned through her clenched teeth.
He was wound so tight and desperate for relief, but he held still and waited for her
body to give up its cues.
Her teeth unclamped and she whispered, “Sorry.”
“You okay, little wolf?”
 “Stings a bit, but I want to feel—feel the rest.”
He gave her a little more, and she clenched around him hard enough to push him
out.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t say sorry. You’re giving me a gift.” He worked himself back in, this time
not stopping until he was in as far as he could go.
“I guess you’re mine now,” she whispered.
He chuckled and found her lips again. It was a naive way of thinking, but she was
so sweet for wanting him.
“No decent woman will touch you,” she said. “You’ve got my scent in you now.”
“What?”
“Y’all can’t smell it. Testosterone blocks it, I guess. That’s why we don’t fight
over you. We can tell that you already belong to someone. We won’t pursue you
unless we’re sure it’s not a permanent match.”
“I always thought it was the other way around.”
“Works both ways, I hear.”
“Sneaky, sneaky, little wolf.” He slipped an arm under her hips and rolled onto his
back. “Dastardly.”
“Just desperate to make you listen.”
He couldn’t even be mad about it. It hardly seemed like treachery, coming from
his mate. What she didn’t have in size and fierceness, she made up for in cunning, and
that was certainly something for him to brag about. In a good mate match, a weak
wolf became more confident—more aggressive in defending her home and family—
and for whatever reason, the goddess had seen fit to have Christina bloom under
Anton’s watch. Perhaps he should stop disrespecting them both.
He kept her chest pressed to his and started slow, cautious thrusts into her
welcoming pussy. “Yeah, I’m listening now.”
Her hot breath came out in pants and gasps against his chest, and her fingers dug
into his flesh for purchase. With each stroke into her, her body tensed and relaxed, as
if she were afraid he’d cause her pain, but received proof of the opposite with each
thrust. He’d never hurt her on purpose, or let anyone else hurt her, either. Not
anymore.
“If you want to hang onto me, I’ll take care of you,” he whispered. The words
were not only instructions for her to tighten her arms around him so he could give her
the release she needed, but also were her one last chance to opt out of this thing—to
let go of him. If she left, she’d break his heart, but that was a better deal than him
inadvertently breaking her at some point. There wasn’t a whole lot of gentleness in his
life. They’d both have to adapt.
She pulled him down, so his chest was atop hers, and clasped her hands around his
back. “I’m holding on.”
“All right, little wolf.” He found her lips again and teased her mouth while
increasing the speed of his thrusts. He ate every little moan and pant she offered up.
She wasn’t kissing, so much as letting herself be kissed. Her heavy-lidded eyes and
her toes flexed against the backs of his thighs told him that she was enjoying what he
was doing, even if she wasn’t responding. At the moment, her participation was
enough. She didn’t need to do anything more to please him. He’d never met a more
impressive creature.
“Ah!” Her eyes opened wide and nails pierced his flesh.
Hissing at the sharp pain, he slowed his thrusts, circled his hips. “Don’t tamp it
down. Let it out. It’ll feel so good with me inside you.”
“But you—oh, gods.” She tipped her head back and her lips quivered and teeth
chattered as her nails dug down his back.
He gasped at her channel’s clenching spasms around his cock, and pushed himself
up onto his forearms to thrust into her again and again before it stopped. Her body
seemed insistent on drawing out the raging fire in his belly and extinguishing his lust,
so he let it.
“Fuck!” He started to pull out as her body drew forth his seed, but she tightened
her legs around his thighs, and grabbed his bottom lip between her teeth, letting it
snap back.
“Don’t disrespect me.”
Vision blurring and blood pounding in his head, all he could do was nod as he
came. Denying one’s mate his seed would have been considered an insult—the action
would suggest she wasn’t a worthy vessel, and she certainly was. He was just used to
being cautious.
Spent, he collapsed, half on her and half beside her, catching his breath as his cock
deflated inside her. Turning his face toward her, he searched her expression for any
sign of regret or revulsion.
Swollen lips parted, she extended a tentative hand to his face. Her fingers hovered
just beside his nose where his patch began.
She seemed to be seeking his permission, so he nodded. She nudged the bit of
fabric aside and carefully freed the cord from his hair. “You don’t have to hide in your
own house. You don’t have to hide from me.”
Carefully pulling out of her, he righted himself and propped his body up on his
forearms. He wanted her to get a good look at the thing she thought he shouldn’t be
hiding.
She skimmed gentle fingertips along his brow ridge and across his scarred eyelid.
“Lucky to have eyelashes like that. Girls pay a lot of money to pretend that they have
them.”
“I’d rather have the vision than the lashes.”
“You can’t see anything at all?”
“Just light changes. The fact that the eye isn’t dead is probably why my wolf can
still see just fine.”
“I bet you make a handsome wolf.” She tucked his hair behind his ears and kissed
both of his eyelids.
“Maybe. Still not biting you, though, if that’s where your thoughts are headed. Not
going to do that to you. Contrary to what you’re thinking, you shifting would make it
harder for me to take care of you.” Wolves played rough. Even when they didn’t mean
any harm, she could get hurt by a playful bite or swipe. She wouldn’t bounce back as
quickly as he would. There was no good reason for her to shift.
She pouted, but he kissed it away.
“I like you on two legs, little wolf. I hope that’s not a deal breaker now that I can’t
bear to send you away.”
He eased off the bed and padded toward the bathroom, glancing back once to see
her chewing on her lip as she stared at the ceiling.
She’d get over it. He could be just as stubborn as her, so he’d make sure of it in
the sweetest way he knew how.
New pack. New rules. They’d make a few of their own now.
His little wolf didn’t need fangs to earn her place.
 CHAPTER NINE

Christina thought it would be enough, but it wasn’t. Anton had made gentle love
to her again and again and held her throughout the night like he wanted her. When he
woke up and had to start his day, he didn’t leave the bed before kissing her and telling
her everywhere she’d be able to find him if she needed him. He did everything a
typical woman could have hoped for.
But—she wasn’t a typical woman. She was a wolf. Her wolf might have been
suppressed—quieted—but she couldn’t help her nature, and her nature said she’d
failed. She hadn’t really won her man—she’d just made it so that no other decent
woman would have him. The victory didn’t taste as sweet as it should have, because
she knew she’d be different than the other mates. They’d wonder why he thought her
unworthy of his bite—think she was less than they were.
After a morning of feeling sorry for herself in the house, she decided to go feel
sorry for herself outside. The moment she stepped onto the doormat, she changed her
mind.
She heard the howling way back near the mountains and recognized it as the Pack.
The girls, she thought. She’d seen Anton’s aunt leading them out earlier while
Christina was at the kitchen sink washing out breakfast dishes. They’d been dressed to
shift—loose clothes and slip-off shoes. Probably getting lessons in handling their
animal halves. The men didn’t tag along, so maybe the girls were getting better at it.
Christina was behind the curve. Hell, maybe she wasn’t even on the curve anymore.
Without a bite, she’d never shift, and no one besides her mate could give her one.
She stood there on the mat, staring out at the desert for a long while. Then she
squared her shoulders. No use harping over things beyond her control. She’d told
Anton she wished more than anything to be productive, and since she’d meant it, she
would act like it. If she were going to beg for work, though, she was going to start at
the top.
Just let them tell me no.
She grabbed her purse from the coat rack, tidied her hair in a bun, and set out for
Norseton. She bypassed all of the shops and restaurants this time, heading straight for
the front door of the executive mansion, as though she’d been invited.
 One of the Pack wolves—hell, she didn’t even know his name—jogged across the
lawn as if to intercept her, but she’d already rung the bell.
“What are you doing here? Anton’s doing target practice,” he said.
“I’m not looking for Anton.” She squared her shoulders and twined her fingers
together in front of her.
“Does he know you’re here?”
The door opened, and a prim, brown-skinned woman holding a walkie-talkie and a
clipboard stepped in front of it. She raised an eyebrow at the wolf, who put up his
hands in a, Hey, I tried, gesture. “Can I help you?” she asked.
Christina cleared her throat. “I’m—I’m a Pack mate.” There was really no better
word for what she was. “My wolf said that I might find some work here.”
“I’m going to get in such deep shit with Adam,” the guard wolf said.
“Who’s your wolf?” the woman asked. “Not that one, I’m guessing.”
“No. Anton.”
“Anton.” Eyes narrowed, the woman tapped the antenna of her walkie-talkie
against her chin and nodded. “Lucky girl. Gotta respect a guy who works as hard as
he does.”
Christina’s cheeks burned with pride, and she smiled. “I do.” It was nice to have
her early assessment of him validated.
“He’s actually out back beyond the courtyard with some potential guards we’re
trying out, putting them through target practice. Why don’t you come in?” She held
the door open a little wider, and Christina stepped across the threshold. Somehow, she
managed to suppress her compulsion to stick her tongue out at her fellow wolf.
The other woman closed the door behind them and extended her hand. “I’m Lora,
the Afótama queen’s personal assistant.”
“Oh!” Christina took the proffered hand and shook it. “The queen’s personal
assistant answers the front door?”
Lora steered them across the atrium, toward a hall at the right. “In my office, I get
a pretty decent view of who’s outside because of all the surveillance cameras. Every
new resident in Norseton gets background checked, and your file had just crossed my
desk. I recognized your face. We’re short-staffed at the moment, so, yeah. I answered
the door. There’s no one else available to. Ask Anton to get you up to speed on
specifically why that is.”
“I will. So, what sort of jobs do you have available here?”
“Tell me what you’re good at, and we’ll figure something out.”
 “Just that easy?”
“Sure. Part of our agreement with your pack, though I see it as a buy-one, get-one
deal. You ladies are bonuses, as far as I’m concerned. You’re the first mate who has
popped by, other than Mrs. Carbone. I was wondering if your Pack Momma was
going to send any of you over.”
“The rest are busy. With their wolf selves, I mean. They’re new at shifting.”
“And you’re not?”
Christina’s face burned hot again, but this time not from pride—just the opposite.
“I can’t shift.”
“Oh, I see.” Lora led her up a stairwell, down a hall, past a large library-type
room, and into a small office. “Don’t take my lack of questioning as disinterest, okay?
I do my job as well as I do because I accept information only on a need-to-know
basis.”
“I understand.” Thank the lord. At least Lora wouldn’t be judging her on that.
Lora indicated a chair Christina could take, and depressed the button on her
walkie-talkie. “Mr. Denis, can you head up to my office when you have a minute?”
“Anything wrong?” Anton returned.
“Nothing at all. Just need to hash out some scheduling to make sure I don’t
inadvertently have your wife working opposite shifts.”
Wife? Christina held up an index finger. She’d forgotten all about it. While the
others had certainly received their certificates and civil ceremonies by now, she and
Anton were still ramping up to that. She hoped, anyway. “Um—”
“Can you give me half an hour?” Anton asked. “We need to let these guys know
one way or the other if they’re up to snuff before the next round.”
“Take your time,” Lora said. She set the walkie-talkie on her desktop and turned
her wrist over to expose her watch’s face. “Can I leave you here for a few minutes? I
just want to check on a contractor who was sitting around too much for my liking.”
“Sure. I’m sorry I didn’t think to make an appointment.”
“Don’t worry about it. Feel free to take a walk. I might be gone a little while if I
have to throw my inconsiderable weight around.”
Christina chuckled. Inconsiderable sounded about right. She wasn’t much more
imposing than Christina, but Christina suspected Lora demanded respect in other
ways than through her size. Christina could probably take some lessons from her.
“Can you tell me where Anton is?”
Lora waved her over to the window and pointed down. “Easy enough to figure out
for a wolf, right? Halls are twisty-turny here.”
“Yeah, easy enough.”
Christina made her way down to the back courtyard where Adam, Anton, and the
other two wolves she didn’t know the names of watched a few men fire bullets into
targets mounted on hay bales, set about two hundred yards into the desert.
Cringing, she slipped quietly past the wolves she didn’t know and waited for the
shooting to stop.
Rifles.
Gods, she hated them. Was always afraid one would accidently go off. She felt
like a cat in a room full of rocking chairs when loaded guns were around. The
unloaded ones were no problem, though. She was logical enough to be comfortable
with those, but once ammunition was added to the equation, there wasn’t much she
could do for the anxiety. Still, she was better now than she was ten years ago. Her
brothers made her shoot. Forced her to handle guns, especially when she didn’t want
to. Having a loaded weapon in her hands always made her feel a little more equal,
even if her hands shook as she lined up her shots.
Sidling up to Anton, she briefly observed each of the potential hires. If they were
true professionals, at that range, none of them should have had much trouble hitting
the bull’s-eye at least some of the time. Out of the five contenders, only two were
hitting it with any regularity, and they were slow shooters, putting three seconds or
more between each shot.
She cast a questioning look up at her handsome wolf, already forgetting what
she’d come down for. He smiled at her, and her body tingled as she remembered what
they’d done all night.
She dragged her shirtsleeve across her heated brow. What did I come here for?
He leaned in and whispered, “We were doing okay with these guys up until this
part. I don’t know if they’re going to work.”
Work. Right! That had been why she’d stormed to the mansion. “Um, do they have
to be able to shoot from this distance?”
“It’d help a hell of a lot if they could, but if they meet other qualifications, we
might be able to find a place for them. Close guard duty. We were really hoping to
find some guys to work the grounds, though. For that, they need to be sharper shots.
You should have told me you were coming.”
She shoved her hands into her pockets and forced down the lump that had
suddenly formed in her throat. “I got bored.” And unsure. Anxious. She was scared
again that he didn’t really want her, but just looking at him now, it was obvious he
didn’t feel that way. He wasn’t cold to her. He didn’t try to push her aside or minimize
her presence, just because those other wolves were around.
The interviewees must have run out of bullets, because one by one, they turned to
face the wolves.
Adam let out a long sigh and raked a hand through his messy salt-and-pepper hair.
It was so thick and wild, it almost made him look like a wolf in his man form. He took
the rifle from the man at the first station, loaded some ammo into it, and put the gun to
his shoulder. He fired off three quick shots, which flew into the bull’s-eye, one behind
the other. “It ain’t just about aim,” he said. “You assholes need to prove to me you can
actually fucking see.” He threw up his free hand. “Maybe the first step in the
interviewing process should be a basic vision test, ’cause goddamn, for you all to be
so highly trained—supposedly—you can’t shoot worth a shit.”
“Come on, man,” one of the would-be hires said. “We’re operating on about three
hours of sleep between the five of us. Of course we’re not going to hit every shot.”
“My crew can go days at a time without proper sleep, and the boys almost always
hit their targets.”
Anton tensed beside her, and she looked up to see his grimace.
Oh. He’d said he was a weaker shot now. She squeezed his hand.
“Don’t give me that fucking excuse,” Adam said. “Try another.”
“Why don’t we just show them?” one of the wolves said. He extended his hand,
and contestant number three handed over the rifle. The wolf indicated to the other
wolves behind him. Anton and—well, What’s-his-name.
What’s-his-name got himself a gun and took a lane.
Anton stood frozen, and Christina’s heart broke for him. It’d been so easy for her
to dismiss his complaints about his shortcomings, but she’d never once saw him as
being less than. But just because she didn’t agree, it didn’t mean that his own opinion
didn’t seriously affect his performance. She gripped his wrist and pulled his gaze
down to her. Whatever he chose to do, she wouldn’t judge him for it.
He gave her hand a squeeze in return and took the weapon contestant number five
held out.
She followed, standing beside him as he loaded a fresh cartridge. His jaw was
tense, breathing erratic, and good eye a bit wide. “I’m not much of a shot,” she
whispered to him. “But I always shoot with one eye closed. I never could do both eyes
open. I always worried something would fly into them.”
“I would have been okay if I still had use of my dominant eye.”
“You’re going to be okay, anyway. I’ll help you.”
 “Waitin’ on you, Anton,” one of the wolves said. “If you need a pep talk, I can
give you much better motivation via my foot up your ass. Go on and get your shots
off so we can do the impressive stuff right after.”
Christina rolled her eyes and put her back to him. “Ignore him. I had to get real
used to that in my last pack.”
“He’ll just get louder.”
“Let him. You don’t care, do you? They call you Beast, so earn your name.”
He chuckled. “All right, little wolf.” Anton put the rifle to his shoulder and lined
up his shot.
“Make sure you actually hit in the vicinity of the hay, man,” the wolf said again.
Christina turned, and before she realized what she was doing, swiped her nails
against the heckler’s jaw. As blood pooled at the surface of the runnels she’d cut into
his flesh, a low, foreboding growl filled her ears.
She wasn’t sure if it was Anton’s hand on her shoulder or the offensive wolf’s
startled mien that clued her in, but she realized that god-awful noise was coming from
her.
“It’s all right. You don’t need to fight my battles, little wolf.” Anton took her hand
and shook it out, laughing all the while. “And you don’t even need my bite, do you?”
He raised her hand in front of her eyes for her to see the retracting claws.
Her hand. Her—claws?
Adam sidled over, chuckling. “Can I pick ’em, or what?”
“You should have given her to Vic.”
“Vic’s not gonna be Alpha, so why would I have?”
“He’s your son. Of course he’s meant to be Alpha.”
Heart pounding and stomach in knots, Christina tugged at Anton’s sleeve. “Anton,
I don’t understand what’s happening.”
The wolf she’d inadvertently mauled muttered, “That makes two of us,” as he
pressed his shirtsleeve to his bleeding cheek.
She couldn’t help but to notice the interviewees had all taken a few large steps
back. They practically held up the wall behind them. “Anton?”
Still chuckling, he massaged her palm and then twined his fingers through hers.
“You didn’t bite me.”
“No. I didn’t. Hadn’t planned to, either.”
“And that’s partly why I’m here. I—I thought last night was the start of something
that might have been enough, but it’s not enough. I want—I want what everyone else
has.”
“I can give you the piece of paper and the ceremony if you want them, little wolf.
That’s fine. I’m not gonna send you away, or try to make you so uncomfortable you’ll
pack up and leave on your own. You wanna be my wife—gods bless you—that’s
okay. But you don’t need to be a wolf to be mine. I didn’t—want you to be.”
“Why?”
“Easier for me to take care of you. At least, the way I saw it. You’re right that you
probably wouldn’t make a very imposing wolf, so it puts my mind at ease that you
couldn’t shift.”
“She still can’t shift,” Adam said. “Not fully. Doesn’t make her any less scary to
these assholes.” He crooked his thumb toward the Pack members behind him.
“What’s happening to me?” she asked.
“Nothing you weren’t already capable of.” Adam shrugged. “Not every woman
can do it. Used to be that everyone, irrespective of their sex, could shift after puberty,
but then some evolutionary thing changed that. I think it was meant to keep the
birthrate up. Pregnancy is just riskier for wolves that shift for the moon. Can’t exactly
set the fetus aside while you go out howling. Good drugs suppress the shifting
compulsion, but they’re hard to come by. Way back when, it was supposed to be that
women didn’t get their bites until after they’d had a few kids. We’ve obviously gotten
away from that. You’re a throwback, honey. I bet there’s more like you where you’re
from.”
She held her now-normal hand in front of her face and stared at it. “I wouldn’t
know.” Folks back home didn’t wait so long to pair off. She dropped her hand,
determined. “Well, I don’t want the bite, then. Not yet.”
“If ever,” Anton muttered.
Christina rolled her eyes and turned to him. “But I want my certificate. I want it
now.”
“All right.” Smirking, he put up his free hand and handed the rifle to Adam.
“We’ll take care of it today.”
She jammed her hands onto her hips and cocked up her chin. “You messin’ with
me?”
“No, I’m not messing with you. I think you have an appointment to keep first,
though.” He canted his head to the walkway where Lora stood. She gave Christina a
small wave.
“Oh.” She started toward Lora, but then stopped. Turned. “Are you gonna take
your shots?”
“My shots?”
She cut her gaze toward the unblemished target. She didn’t want those wolves to
think she’d gotten him off the hook. Maybe it’d be hard for him, but she believed he
could do it. And if he was supposed to be an alpha someday, he needed to show them
what he was still capable of.
He let out a long breath and took the rifle back from Adam.
Adam took a few steps back and plugged his ears as Anton raised the gun. She did
the same, cringing all the while.
She worried for a moment that he wouldn’t do it, as he was taking so long to line
up his shot, but then he pulled the trigger five times in a row without pausing.
Two shots dead center, two just outside, and one where a head might have been.
Not bad at all, even if he’d been uncertain.
He handed Adam the gun again and scooped up Christina’s hand as he approached
her side. “Slow,” he whispered.
“But you got it right. That’s what matters.”
“Being slow out in the field can get me killed.”
They followed Lora up the path and back into the mansion.
“I’ll practice with you. Maybe you can teach me how to hit something smaller
than a Cadillac.”
“I think you’re probably a better shot than that.”
“Nope. Can’t shoot so great if your hands are shaking.”
“The Queen is a pretty good shot,” Lora said. “As is her cousin, Nadia. They can
probably teach you how to compensate for boobs, if you want the practice.”
Anton gave Christina a nudge just before they started up the stairs to the second
floor. “I’d much rather you have a gun than fur, little wolf.”
The more Christina thought about it, the more she liked the idea, herself. She’d
hoped that having her wolf ready and available would make her less useless, but
perhaps she didn’t need that after all.
 EPILOGUE

“Changed my mind.” Anton snapped magnets onto two corners of the black and
white ultrasound photo and straightened it on the refrigerator. “Don’t want you
carrying a gun.”
“You’re overreacting.” Christina grabbed her bagged lunch from the refrigerator,
along with her thermos, and headed toward the door. “I’m no different today than I
was yesterday, and you were fine with me carrying yesterday.” It wasn’t like she
carried the darned thing in her waistband or close to her belly at all. She kept it where
most civilized women did—in her purse, and with the safety on.
“I was never fine with it.” He raced around her and barred her exit at the door. “I
simply tolerated it because I don’t like arguing with you.”
“It was either that or the bite.”
“And I’m not biting you.”
“For the moment.”
“Ever. Why fix what’s not broken? You’re not broken, little wolf.”
She sighed, reached up, and gave the hair over his blind eye a flick. At least he’d
stopped hiding it from her, though he still tied on a patch before leaving the house on
most days.
“Nothing’s going to happen to you here,” he said.
A loud boom from the general direction of Norseton rattled the windows.
She raised an eyebrow at him.
“What the fuck?” He plucked his cell phone from his flannel shirt’s pocket and
dialed out. “What the hell was that?” He furrowed his forehead as whoever was on the
other end of the connection talked.
She yanked his shirtsleeve. “What’s happening?”
He covered the mouthpiece. “I was right. Nothing’s going to happen to you,
because I’m not letting you go anywhere.”
“What happened?”
 “Guys at Norseton detonated a suspicious package out in the desert. Mailed in.”
She might have clutched her pearls if she had any.
“I’ll be over there in a few minutes to sniff it out,” he said into the phone before
disconnecting. “You, stay home.”
“No. Threat’s been minimized, so I’m going to work. I’ve got a lot to do.” And
she liked her job. She’d had first pick because she was the first of the mates to go and
ask. She spent her workdays in the mansion’s library, scouring newspapers and the
Internet for leads on the Afótama’s missing people. It was tedious, sure, but it
engaged the same part of her brain that taking things apart did. She got lost in the
work, and because it truly had to be done, she felt useful while doing it, even if she
didn’t find something to report every single day. The Afótama had gone decades
without viable leads on some of their missing, and in just a few months, she’d helped
them find three.
Anton folded his arms over his chest and stared down at her in that not really
terrifying way. Maybe it was terrifying to the others, but to her, he was just her big,
cuddly wolf.
“I’m pregnant, not helpless.”
“If anything happens to you—”
She wanted to hear the rest of that “if” statement, but knew if he got it out, he’d
set his mind on keeping her at home. He tended to jump to conclusions and stick to
them when it came to her wellbeing. Typical overbearing wolf, but he was, at least,
sweet about it. “Nothing’s going to happen to me. There’s no safer place to be than
inside the mansion, right?”
His nod came slowly. He had to know it was true. Maybe it wasn’t evident from
the outside, but that place was reinforced to withstand Armageddon.
“Walk me there? You were heading that way anyway.” She crooked her elbow for
him.
After a moment, he took it and opened the door. “I swear, if being half-blind
doesn’t get me killed, you will.”
“You’re being dramatic.” She grabbed her purse off the hook before stepping
outside. “Your uncle said it himself. We’re an alpha pair. I’m supposed to be a help to
you, not a hindrance, so let me do my part. That’s all I’ve been trying to do, all
along.”
“I just want more for you. You deserve more.”
“I have more than most wolves do.”
“And that’s a damned shame.” They moved up the path at a clip that wasn’t quite
running, but close. With her short legs and decreased lung capacity, Christina could
barely keep up, but somehow managed. In another few weeks, she’d probably need a
golf cart to get to and from work. Baby Girl Denis wasn’t being so kind to her
mother’s pelvic floor.
“It’s an opportunity,” she said, yanking his hand to slow him down.
He did, and grimaced. “Sorry. I could carry you, if you want.”
She grinned. “I can walk.” And they did, at a much more reasonable pace. “We’ve
got an opportunity here to build something from scratch. Start something new. We
don’t have to be like all the other packs—so transient and sending our little boys away
when they become some stupid perceived threat to the leaders. Why do they have to
be a threat? Isn’t it better to keep ’em and be strong?”
“Sure, it’s better. It’s just not the way things are usually done.”
“Well, let’s change things. I wouldn’t let you send me away. I’ll be damned if I let
you do it to my boys.”
“Boys, huh?” He chuckled.
“Well, I’m sure there’ll be more than one at some point. Basic statistics.”
“We have a long time before we have to worry about it, but I’ll do my best to
make it right for you.”
“For us.”
“That’s right. For us.”
 LONER
Half wolf Stephanie Benson has spent much of the last decade enduring criticism
from her father’s pack about her deficiencies. If it weren’t for the fact her inner beast
craves a wolf’s sensual attentions, she’d try to settle down with a nice human man.
Answering a mate call from an unknown pack is her one chance at fleeing toxic
influences, but it’s a gamble. She may end up with a man who finds her softer human
physique and progressive opinions just as repulsive as the men back home.

Ousted from his pack as a young boy, Darius Lucas is Norseton’s resident lone wolf.
He lacks mastery of the social graces most men over thirty would have, and can
barely speak more than a few words at a time. Although Darius is skeptical about
saddling a stranger with him for a companion, his alpha insists Stephanie is
everything he needs. Darius enthusiastically gives the captivating, bombshell his bite,
but not his confidence.

He’s used to being on the fringes, but Stephanie understands how that feels all too
well. He may lack polish, but he has the tenderness that was lacking in Stephanie’s
previous relationships. They’re both loners in their own ways, but if they can come
together to find a common thread, the mates could ignite a romance hot enough to
make them both howl.
 CHAPTER ONE

Stephanie Benson crossed her legs at the knees and folded her arms over her chest.
Nope. Bad idea.
Pressing her arms over her chest squashed her breasts together and made her
already prominent cleavage protrude even more over the front of her V-neck tank.
Short of wearing a turtleneck, she knew she’d never meet anyone’s standard for
demureness, but she did at least try to keep people’s first impressions of her neutral.
When she’d set out on her traveling expedition for the wolf mate call, she’d dressed as
she always did for a trip. After turning in the key for her rented painting studio, she’d
put on her favorite jeans, sparkly sandals, and a flowing, sage green tank top that
brought out the evil in her eyes. At least, that was what her ex had always said. She’d
worn it anyway, because it was her favorite. Soft and luxurious, the fabric’s silken
caress of her skin made her feel like a goddess whenever she wore it.
Now, she was about to become a goddess with freckled, sunburnt cleavage, and
certainly, the only one of her kind.
For fuck’s sake—they’re all waifs.
She looked at the three women sharing the bench with her and barely managed to
suppress the hysterical laughter quaking her lungs. Werewolves, in their human forms,
tended to be a bit fitter when compared to the human population, due to their faster
metabolisms and higher activity levels. Stephanie, though, took after her human
mother in the tits and ass department, and nothing in Stephanie’s wolf genetics could
offset it.
Up until she’d been given the or else ultimatum at age sixteen and pulled into her
father’s pack, she’d loved her body. Loved her burgeoning curves and swells, and
looked forward to being a jaw-dropping vixen like her mother one day. But during the
summer she’d turned sixteen, she presented herself to her father’s pack at his alpha’s
order, and the wolves there—well, they were so different. They didn’t look like real
people. They were comic book characters made of flesh and bone, and she didn’t fit
anywhere within the pages of their stories.
The women sharing the bench with her now were typical enough, but Stephanie
couldn’t help but to notice whose thighs took up the most real estate. Those women
were probably all full wolf. Stephanie’s half-breed status could very well be another
strike against her. She already had enough flaws that would turn off a mate.
The alpha, Adam Carbone—now her alpha—was coordinating the mate matching.
He stood in front of her and made an assessing grunt.
She sighed. “Go ahead and tell me about myself, Alpha.”
“Hey, don’t get your hackles up, red lady. Your energy’s not reading as whole
wolf.”
Her hand went reflexively up to tuck back the swatch of ginger hair covering the
side of her face, and though her posture was already acceptably upright, she sat up a
little straighter. “I didn’t know it was possible to discern that.”
“It isn’t for most folks, but I’m Alpha.”
“My alpha never mentioned being able to tell the difference, and he would have.”
He would have grabbed at any opportunity to tear her down just out of nasty spite. For
the life of her, she never could figure out what she’d ever done to deserve it. She
didn’t ask to be in the pack. She’d been perfectly content with her very human life in
Chicago with her mother.
Alpha worked his jaw from side to side for a few beats before giving her one of
those slow, knowing nods that were usually followed by some words that she didn’t
want to hear.
“Not everyone who has the job should,” he said.
Huh.
She’d always thought that, but it was better that he said it than her. Coming out of
her mouth, the statement might have been considered treasonous. She was no longer a
part of her old pack, but until she’d been fully accepted into her new one—paired with
a man and received his bite—she needed to tread carefully. If she wanted a wolf for a
mate, she couldn’t gain a reputation for being insolent. And in spite of everything, she
did want a wolf. Only another wolf would understand her basest urges. But at the
same time, a full wolf might reject everything about her that was just plain human.
She wanted to be hopeful that her mate would accept her, but it was hard. Plus, she
had to get past the gatekeeper first—the curious alpha pacing in front of her.
“Your other half isn’t some different kind of shifter, is it?”
“Just human, Alpha.”
“Oh.” He shrugged and moved on down the line, rubbing his chin as he assessed
each woman.
Stephanie blew out some of her tension on a long exhalation and folded her
fingers atop her lap. Alpha had his back turned, so she turned to the two ladies to her
right and mouthed, “Hi.”
They’d barely acknowledged each other during the van ride from Albuquerque’s
airport, probably because they’d all been so discombobulated and nervous. Showing
up in response to a mate call was a bit like playing craps and putting everything on the
line.
One lady winked. The other gave Stephanie a little wave and pulled her earlobe in
an obvious signal meaning, we’ll talk later—people are listening.
Christina’s nerves ebbed somewhat, knowing that the two women had overheard
what she was—or what she wasn’t—and would still be pleasant. There was a chance
they had their own skeletons to fret about, and hers was tame in comparison. She
hoped that was the case, and hated herself a little for it. She’d never been the kind of
woman who’d wish ill on anyone, regardless of how much hardship she personally
endured. The wolf goddess had always stood for forgiveness and kindness, and
Stephanie tried to emulate the mysterious lady as often as she could, even when doing
so was a hardship. More often than not, being kind was hard, because most wolves
weren’t so nice to her.
Adam turned back to them, scanned them all again, made that trademark grunting
noise, then looked pointedly over their heads.
Naturally, she turned to see what had caught his gaze.
Three tall men waited in the shadow of one the small adobe homes’ roof overhang,
apparently watching the spectacle of the mate match and seeing whom their alpha
deemed suitable for each.
Three?
She checked the shadows of the other four houses bordering the courtyard as well.
No more wolves. The bulletin that Alpha had sent out to all the known packs
requested four mates, and seeing as how he had given her the go-ahead to fly down to
New Mexico, there had to be one for each of them.
She knew only in vague terms how the mate matching process worked. The vast
majority of her friends weren’t wolves, and of the few female wolves in her father’s
pack she’d actually associated with, none had ever answered a call. They’d all taken
mates within the home pack, for better or for worse.
From what Stephanie understood about the process, when a pack was in need of
women, the alpha would put out word through the wolf network, stating how many
were needed and where, approximately, the pack was located. Sometimes, a woman
could tell which pack was requesting the mates and put out feelers about what the
culture and conditions were like. Often, however, there was no information to be
found. Every day some new pack would splinter off and relocate, so she’d known
nothing about these New Mexican wolves. They weren’t a part of a known pack and
had no reputation—at least not a reputation anyone would speak of. She’d taken a
chance in showing up, and hoped it would pay off. Wolves wanted a pack to belong
to, and that half of her that was wolf overrode her human notions of independence.
Supposedly, what would happen next was that Alpha would tap into his spiritual
connection to the goddess and match each volunteering woman to an eligible wolf. If
Alpha was any good at translating the goddess’s wishes, he would make good, sound,
lasting matches. Alphas weren’t always good. Sometimes, women were trapped by
their matches, thrust into worse situations than what they’d left at their last pack. It
was a risk Stephanie had to take, if only to get the tormenting dreams to stop. They
teased of the ideal pack and the perfect mate. She wasn’t prone to fairy tale whims,
but she couldn’t help but to obsess about what could be.
Turning back to face her new alpha, she swallowed hard and let out a long, slow
breath. She hoped Adam was good, because she was probably only going to have one
chance at this. If she refused the pairing, no one else would want her—at least, no one
a reasonably sane woman would want. She’d end up having to settle for some weak
wolf back in her father’s pack, who would likely punish her for trying to leave in the
first place—for wanting more for herself than to be treated like a possession.
She ran her tongue across her lips and set her sights on a large cactus about a
dozen yards away. She was used to having her name dragged through mud—used to
being insulted and maligned for what she was—and eventually, she would have to put
her foot down.
She knew in her heart that she needed a wolf lover. Maybe her own small
connection to the goddess had convinced her of that, but the human part of her told
her to never settle. She was worthy of love and respect, in spite of what her father had
told her. If she couldn’t get that, she’d leave, customs be damned.
Do your thing, Alpha. I’m ready.
 CHAPTER TWO

When the pack had voted months ago on whether or not it was time for Alpha to
put out the mate call, Darius had been the second-slowest to put up his hand. The only
wolf more reticent was Anton, and it was easy enough to guess what Anton’s
dysfunction was. “Beast” had gotten mauled six months ago while in his human form.
He was blind in one eye, and though he’d had a good deal of plastic surgery on the
side of his face, he couldn’t hide his scars. It made sense that he was holing up inside
his house. Darius had half a mind to do the same, but it was too late. Alpha caught his
gaze and waved him over.
Damn.
Darius’s packmate Colt snorted as Darius pushed off the wall he was holding up.
“Good luck, Loner,” he said with a dry laugh.
“Fuck you,” Darius muttered under his breath.
The teasing and name-calling was all in good fun, usually—they all had
nicknames—but sometimes it got so damn wearying. Probably another reason Anton
had kept himself inside. Alpha would probably have Anton’s ass for it later, but
seeing as how Alpha was his uncle through marriage, Anton probably didn’t worry
too much about it. But when Darius thought about it, he realized Alpha had never put
much stock in nepotism. Maybe Anton should have worried.
Shoving his hands into his jeans pockets, Darius made his way up the short stone
path and around the bench that held the four women.
He felt a bit like he was marching off the gallows, but instead of him being the one
sentenced for an unforgivable crime, some poor woman was getting punished by
receiving him as a mate.
Alpha had one of the women standing now, one with hair the color of cinnamon
and the nicest pair of tits Darius had seen outside of a Vegas showgirl. No, not a
showgirl. Like one of the pin-up girls from the 1940s he’d seen in a book he’d picked
up at a festival long ago. She had red, heart-shaped lips and an eyebrow arched
curiously at him. She was prettier than any of those glossy pictures. Unreal. Is she
mine?
She looked him up and down and pursed her lips.
 Maybe that was actually her natural hair color. Best he could remember, he’d
never been with a ginger. Then again, he didn’t remember much about very many of
his sexual encounters. That’s all they were, really. Transient wolves didn’t form
attachments. The pack had only recently settled in New Mexico.
“Stephanie Benson, meet Darius Lucas. Darius, this is Stephanie,” Alpha said, and
with that terse introduction, moved on down the line.
That’s it?
Now what?
She bobbed her eyebrows. “So…it’s nice to meet you, I guess.”
“Likewise,” he muttered. It was all he could come up with. He was tongue-tied at
the best of times. If he’d been thinking ahead, he would have rehearsed something—
perhaps thank her for coming so far and apologize in advance for what he was.
He picked at his thumb’s cuticle and stared at his feet. Fuck.
Colt jogged over at Alpha’s beckoning next, and a moment later, led his mate to
Alpha’s house, where they’d stowed all the women’s luggage.
Oh.
Darius started after them. Stephanie probably has some bags. Halfway there, he
figured he should see if she was following. She was. She bobbed her eyebrows again
and clasped her hands behind her back.
“Sorry.” He gestured toward the house, and she walked on ahead of him.
Luggage acquired—and she had a lot—he led her to his own small adobe
bungalow and pulled open the screen door. She walked in and waited in the foyer as
he made a tidy pile of her luggage.
“Nice place you’ve got here.”
“It’s all right.” He certainly couldn’t complain. Up until last winter, the wolves
had been living out of the conversion van that they used to transport themselves from
one assignment to the next. They followed the dollar signs, taking security gigs for
various groups, and doing all sorts of mercenary tasks, short of wet work. They did try
not to kill people, but some folks just asked for it. Now the pack was more or less
settled in the community of Norseton, where they’d been contracted to provide
security services to a group called the Afótama. Lots of space around them, and not a
hell of a lot of people to get in his face. It was a pretty sweet job, and he prayed to the
goddess nightly that no one fucked it up for them.
He turned on the living room light and closed the heavy wood door, leaving it
unlocked before turning to his would-be mate.
 Stephanie rocked on her heels and clamped her arms over her belly. “So…how do
you want to do this?”
Her voice was everything he’d expect from a woman shaped like a silver screen
siren. It was husky and low, with a tantalizing rasp that seemed intent on tugging his
cock to attention.
“Helloooo?” she crooned.
She must have been hypnotizing him somehow. It wasn’t uncommon for some
wolves to have a little magic—usually the ones the goddess had taken a special
interest in for whatever reason. He just bet the goddess had bestowed numerous
blessings onto a woman like Stephanie. It was the only explanation for her being so
alluring.
He pulled his gaze from her bright red mouth and stared in the general vicinity of
her eyes. “Yes?”
“You don’t talk much, do you?”
“I talk.”
“In full sentences?”
“Yeah.”
She let out a breath and gave her head a small shake. “Just as well. I guess I can
talk plenty enough for the both of us. My mother says I could talk the paint off a wall,
but I think I’m interesting, at the very least.”
His gaze fell to her succulent lips yet again, and every muscle in his core and
crotch tightened with his imagination’s unwelcome romp into the nasty. She would
probably leave a ring of red around his cock as she sucked him off, and push those
breasts up to catch every last drop of his cum. He’d return the favor, of course—he’d
bury his face between her solid thighs and lick her until she came on his tongue. He
was pretty sure that was how it worked—in theory, anyway. No one had ever expected
him to perform that specific task, and he hadn’t felt compelled to volunteer.
“I mean, I spent a lot of money going to college to make myself interesting.
Bachelor of Fine Arts. The only thing that degree is good for is talking about,
though.” She shrugged nonchalantly. “And teaching, I guess.”
She dragged her tongue across her lips and he drew in a sharp breath. Will she put
that tongue on me one day? If she was going to be his mate, he could ask. Or is that
something people don’t ask for? He wasn’t sure what was allowed. If he’d had to go
out and hunt for a mate on his own, he would have probably come home empty-
handed. Finding a woman to fuck was one thing. They didn’t necessarily expect
conversation and chivalry. But a mate? Whole different ballgame, he was guessing.
 “Like I asked before, how do you want to do this?”
Gods, her voice. He could hardly make sense of the words through the
spellbinding sound. “Huh?”
She tugged down the neckline of her loose tank and exposed the stretch of pale
flesh between her breast and collarbone.
Dear goddess…
“The bite.”
He forced down a swallow, his mouth suddenly having gone as dry as the desert
outside.
Just a bite?
“Do you want to do it right here, or should we find a nice sofa? Hey, no worries—
I’m easy.”
“Easy?”
She let go of her shirt and rolled her eyes. “Not easy easy. You know what I
mean.”
He did. Or at least, he thought he did. He’d always considered himself to be pretty
street-smart, given he’d been on his own since he was a kid, but his brain sure as shit
seemed to be a few beats behind at the moment. “Uh—sofa, I guess.”
“Lead the way. Unless you’d like me to just make myself at home?”
“Yeah. Your home now, too.” He hoped she liked it. It was basic: a base model
house with no customization. He hadn’t even known what upgrades to pick, and by
the time he could give it any serious thought, it was too late to put the specs in. He
didn’t really care, though. She could do whatever she wanted to it.
“Oh-kay.” She turned on her heel and passed beneath the archway into the great
room. There, she paused, looking around and finally heading for the sofa.
He hurried ahead of her and picked up the pile of newspapers he’d been storing
there. He didn’t even know why he was collecting them, beyond his chronic inability
to throw things away as of late. He’d been so used to having few possessions, and
only one or two bags to store them in. Having a whole house to himself was a novelty
that still hadn’t worn off in six months.
He dropped the papers onto the coffee table and straightened the slipcover. “Sorry
for the mess.”
“Nice print.” She settled onto the sofa and gave the fabric a rub beneath both
palms. “Did you pick it out?”
“Uh—yeah.” He could have lied and said that Alpha’s wife, Mrs. Carbone, had
chosen it, but he didn’t see the point. He’d been drawn to the pattern. The hunter
green chevrons reminded him of mountain treetops—of home. Of course, he hadn’t
seen that home in over twenty years. He’d been expelled from his birthpack at age
nine. Fortunately, Alpha had scooped him up before any real harm could come to him.
Still, he missed it, his first home, in spite of everything that had happened there. In
spite of being all but forgotten by the people who were supposed to care for him.
“Plain white sofa underneath?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“I recognized the pattern because I used to have same white chair, just with a
different cover. Gone now, though. I sold or gave away most of my things before I
came here.”
She must have had a lot of stuff if she’d needed four big suitcases to haul what
was left. “Sorry. You can change it. So it’s like yours was, I mean.” She could have
whatever made her comfortable. He wouldn’t complain. It wasn’t like he knew what
he was doing in that part of his life, or many other, for that matter. He was far smarter
in his wolf form. His wolf wasn’t constantly second-guessing himself, or berating
himself for saying stupid shit.
“Nah, I like the green. I can do stuff with green. It’s not in my usual decorating
palette, but I like stretching myself. It’ll be interesting to see what I can do to feminize
it. Hope you don’t mind a little feminizing around here.”
He shook his head. She’d be spending more time there than he would, anyway. He
spent most of his days out on the Norseton grounds, and by the time he got home, he
didn’t care much what his surroundings looked like. They only things that were
important were that they were dark and quiet. Cavelike, Mrs. Carbone had once
accused. “You’d live in a cave, wouldn’t you, if you had your druthers?” she’d asked
him.
He’d just shrugged. It was true. The guys had laughed, but Darius hadn’t seen the
point of arguing it. He’d spent a lot of time as a child in his wolf form, hiding out in
caves whenever the human world got too fucking crowded and loud. No one ever
went looking for him, and eventually, they’d asked him not to go home at all.
“Splendid,” Stephanie said. “And you need more furniture.”
“I buy a little each month.” He took a seat on the coffee table in front of her, right
on top of the newspapers.
“Are you going slow by necessity, or are you just indecisive?”
“I don’t use credit.” Everything he had he owned free and clear. Most folks
couldn’t say that, and he was proud that he could. If she expected more from him,
then she was just going to have to be disappointed.
 “I don’t either. I’ve got lots of money.”
He furrowed his brow. It seemed like an odd thing to confess, but he wasn’t
exactly a gold star student when it came to small talk.
She shrugged. “Might as well be candid, right? We’ll probably be married
tomorrow morning if what Alpha said during the drive from the airport was true. He
said his missus is a traditionalist in that one way.”
“Yeah, that’s the plan.”
“So we might as well clear the air, right? Well—I’m quite wealthy.”
“Okay.” He chewed on the inside of his cheek, and with great difficulty, pulled his
gaze away from the smattering of freckles beneath the sun-reddened skin on her chest.
Is she spotted all over, like a cougar? He’d been with a were-cougar woman once, but
he couldn’t remember if she’d had spots. He was drunk, as he often was during one-
night stands. The booze took the edge off the social shit—the performance. Not the
sexual one, but the song and dance leading up to it.
He raked his hand over his face and sighed. Fuck. Is she going to expect that from
me?
“You don’t seem especially gleeful about that, Darius. Any other man would have
had a wanton glint in his eye by now.”
What are we even talking about? He dropped his hand and fixed his stare on the
bright green of her eyes. Green. Oh, right. Money.
He cleared his throat. “I’ve always worked for what I wanted.”
She shrugged again, making those distracting tits bounce.
Sighing, he closed his eyes to shut off the visual onslaught and let his knee bob.
The last thing he needed was to go hard like a horny fifteen-year old and embarrass
himself in front of the finest woman he’d ever encountered in the flesh.
“Keep on keeping on, then,” she said. “I figured I’d make things cozy. I assure
you, I’m not the kind of girl who spends to excess. In fact, I only own ten pairs of
shoes.”
He opened his eyes, only to furrow his brow at her.
“Just kidding. I have five pairs, not counting these sandals. But they’re really nice
shoes.”
“I have two pairs.” Dumb. Like she even cares.
“The boots you’re wearing and what?”
“A pair of tennis shoes.”
 They were around…somewhere. He’d probably had them for nearly as long as
he’d had his GED.
“They probably suit about ninety-eight percent of your needs.”
“Pretty much, or I go barefoot, otherwise. I don’t need shoes in my wolf form.”
She cringed. “Wolf, huh? I guess I’ll be able to shift by morning, if it works.”
“I’ve never heard of it not working.”
Female wolves were unable to shapeshift until they’d received their mate’s bite.
Apparently, evolution was a chauvinist.
“Sure.” She pulled her plump bottom lip between her teeth and rolled her gaze to
the ceiling.
“Well, it doesn’t hurt. Not much, anyway.”
She fixed her intent, glass green gaze on him and arched one of those defined
eyebrows. “Are you serious? I don’t know you yet, so I can’t tell if you’re joking or
not.”
“About shifting? Yeah. I’m used to it, I guess.”
She nudged down her collar to expose that spot again, but before he could transfix
upon it a second time, she let the fabric fall back in place. “This is my favorite shirt. I
don’t want to get it bloody.” Without hesitating, she lifted her shirt by the hem and
pulled the garment over her head.
Fuck.
He hadn’t thought her breasts could possibly get any better. Uncovered, they were
full and round, dotted with pale brown freckles which did go all the way down to the
inside of her bra. Her puckered nipples were slanted upward, and he wondered if he
pushed that satiny material aside, would they be the same brown as her freckles or if
they’d be as pink as her flushed cheeks.
He bobbed his knee and tried to get his mind off of sex, and away from his
tingling cock. Do better. Don’t act like an animal.
She cleared her throat and he looked up to see her flattened lips and narrowed
stare. She made an invisible X in the bite zone and he leaned in, extending his fangs
as he bent.
Such a pity to break that pristine skin.
There wasn’t any other way around it, though. It had to be a bite, and not just a
nibble, either. She’d always have the scar, even after she’d shifted to wolf and back. It
was his mark.
She was his mate.
 Blood hit his tongue before he even registered that he’d broken the skin, and his
mind and body went to war. At her gasp of pain, his human brain said, retreat, but his
primal jaws clamped even more, and his grip on her waist tightened. You have to be
sure, his inner wolf told him, so Darius pulled her to the edge of the sofa, insinuating
her soft body against his harder one, and tongued the flesh.
He inched his hands up the heated plane of her back and around her ribcage. He
flitted his tongue against the gashes again and again until the metallic tang ebbed and
her breathy swears turned into sighs.
Darius rolled his gaze up to find her tipping back her head. Her back arched,
breasts jutted out to him, and he pulled one hard, fabric-covered nipple between his
teeth. He couldn’t help himself. Couldn’t help wanting to feel and taste every part of
her, because she was so fucking beautiful, and right there, and his.
She yanked down her bra straps and pushed herself back into his mouth. “Here.
God!” She leaned back onto the cushions, face still tilted to the ceiling, with hot
breaths coming out in pants. “Suck them.”
He didn’t hesitate, and turned her sideways, then onto her back so he could
straddle her thighs. He took first one tender nub into his mouth, and then the other,
sucking, licking, and nipping while he massaged her pillowy breasts.
On his knees, she wouldn’t be able to feel how hard he was, or guess how poor his
control might be at the moment. She likely thought him completely lacking in
expertise—having no mastery at all in the art of seduction—and she wouldn’t be
wrong if she did. One-night stands didn’t care about foreplay. They just looked at his
dick and asked in various degrees of aggressiveness for him to put it in them, and that
was that.
But this was his mate. He wasn’t going to be one of those wolves who attacked his
woman the moment he stepped into the house after work, as if that was all she was
good for.
Groaning, he pulled himself back and squeezed his eyes closed.
Don’t look. Don’t even fucking look.
If he saw his mark on her, and those breasts—shit.
“So fucking horny! What are you doing?” She nudged him with the inside of her
knee.
He opened his eyes, but immediately cast his gaze toward the ceiling. Too late,
though. He saw them. Pink nipples, and the deep red slits from his razor-sharp teeth.
And her smell…
She nudged him again. “Fuck me, or get off of me. I know you can smell it. I may
only be half-wolf, but my sense of smell works just as good as yours. You know I’m
ripe for you.”
“You want me to—”
She grabbed his hair and yanked him close to her lips. “Fuck me, or get off of me.
Which is it going to be?”
He loosened her fingers from his hair and moved back quickly to work her sandals
off and pull her jeans down her legs. Her panties were a couple of barely-there strings,
attached to a little sliver of lace between her legs, and then they were gone next, the
elastic at the sides snapping before he tossed the garment onto the floor.
“Red,” he said as he slipped his hand between her thighs. Her pussy was as wet as
her fertile scent had suggested, and the small strip of hair just over her clit confirmed
that her coloring was all natural.
“You’ll have to get used to it.” There was a tart snap to her voice that he really
didn’t understand, but then again, he didn’t understand most things about women.
He stood and took off his boots and pants, leaving them in the pile along with
hers, and settled between her spread legs.
She batted his shirt out of the way of his cock, and drew in some air between
clenched teeth. “Take off your socks.”
“Oh.” No reason to act completely desperate, even if he was. He flung his socks
toward the clothing pile next, and in one easy movement, flipped her onto her belly
and pulled her hips back. He nudged his cock head right against her tight entrance, but
there was no give.
With a sigh, she reached between her legs and gripped his shaft hard, pointing him
where he needed to go.
His eyes rolled back into his head as he settled into her heat, and her hand fell
away. Gods, so good. He renewed his grip on her hips, and after a few trial thrusts,
increased his speed until he fucked faster than his swinging balls could catch the
momentum of. The sounds they made became a symphony of skin slapping skin—his
grunts, and her gasps and pants—each one of her little noises of pleasure spurring him
on even more.
She was so tight, and the view of her body from where he was—narrow waist and
the perfect globes of her ass that his pelvis kept bumping—felt like perfection. Each
forceful bump made her supple flesh jiggle, and he stared, hypnotized as he landed his
dick into her again and again, hardly noticing her plaintive pleas for release, or even
how wet she was getting. Her own cream seeped down her thighs, a surplus for him to
taste and lick up—but later. She wanted to come, and he could make her. He was good
at that.
 He pushed her shoulders down against the sofa cushion and leaned over her,
pressing his hands to either side of her back. She peered up at him through her one
visible eye, and although her mouth was telling him to make her come, her expression
didn’t seem to back it up.
“I can,” he assured. He hooked his chin over her shoulder and thrust into her from
a more acute angle. So tight.
“Do it,” she said tartly, and immediately followed it with a whispered, “now.”
“Anything you want.”
He fucked her so hard now that she had to press her palms to the armrest to keep
from sliding forward. She met each of his thrusts, growling as he pounded her deep,
again and again, until finally, she clamped down hard around his shaft, and shouted,
“Fuck!”
And she must have climaxed, because she was wetter and tighter then, and her
legs had gone all wobbly, and then fuck—he came, too, right inside her—his mate.
For a moment, they didn’t move. Didn’t say anything. Then she shifted beneath
him and said, with her face pressed to the slipcover, “You’re heavy.”
“Sorry.” Somewhat sheepishly, he eased off her a bit and slid his dick out, only to
brush the slick head between her soft cheeks.
She made some noise that was half a hiss and half a growl as he pressed against
her unexplored entrance. Wriggling her ass, she scooted away from him. “You are not
putting that there.”
“Wasn’t going to.” He’d never done that before; no one had ever let him, and he
could understand why. He was probably too big. He just wanted to play with
Stephanie—feel his flesh against hers.
“Can you get me a cloth or something? To clean up, I mean.”
“Oh. Sorry. Yeah.”
Reluctantly, he eased off the sofa, moaning at the sight of her still-presented ass,
and padded to the bathroom.
Wow.
He’d definitely gotten lucky with his mate. Not only was she the prettiest thing
he’d ever seen, but damn, that body. He was probably going to spring a woody every
time she took her clothes off to shapeshift.
He slapped on the bathroom light and grabbed a clean washcloth. As long as no
one else got too excited around her, they’d all get along just fine. If not, well—he
might have to hurt them. A lot.
 He hoped it was as good for her as he thought, because that was just about all he
could give her. He was used to communicating through actions, not words, so if she
wanted discourse and stimulating conversation, she’d be out of luck.
Or maybe he’d be the one out of luck. She might go looking for that conversation
elsewhere, and whether she bore his mark and essence or not, she could probably
make any man strike up a conversation. A human male wouldn’t know she was a
wolf.
He wrung out the excess water from the cloth and turned off the light.
Wolves would stay away from her, but that didn’t mean anyone else would. What
the fuck had Alpha been thinking, pairing her with me? She should have been with
Vic, or Colt. At least they talked.
Darius—well, he just brooded. Lone wolves weren’t good for much else.
 CHAPTER THREE

Great.
Not only was Stephanie’s new mate a monosyllabic caveman, but a judgmental
prick as well. That became crystal clear when he’d flipped her over. It was obvious
that he could hardly stand looking at her. Already, he was seeing her as a receptacle—
holes for his pleasure—and as long as he was giving his attention to those, the rest of
her didn’t matter.
While he had paid very nice attention to her hole—honestly, she’d never been
fucked so well—good sex did not a relationship make. She knew that there were
mated couples who weren’t in relationships so much as arrangements, and if they
were happy, that was fine for them. However, she’d wanted a man who would not
only fuck her boneless when she demanded it, but also someone who’d be attracted to
her, and who’d talk to her. To care about her. She didn’t want to repeat her mother’s
history and be someone a wolf could easily cast aside.
One, two strikes. Goddess, give me patience.
Darius returned, still naked as a jaybird with his fat dick half-erect, and handed her
the cloth.
It took her two tries to grasp it, because her gaze had fallen to his crotch, and the
fine specimen dangling from it. She patted herself clean, and with a wince, stood.
She’d be feeling the ache between her legs for a couple of days, probably. It didn’t
matter how wet and ready she had been, it had just been too long since her last fuck,
and he was too big. Yet, she’d greedily taken him in and endured the bite of pain
because the pleasure that came with it had been so, so good. She had no business even
looking at him now. He needed to keep his dick away from her. Indefinitely. Probably
until after she’d shifted and had some time to heal.
If she shifted.
He turned his back and pulled his pants back on, and she said a little prayer of
thanks to the goddess. He had a tight, muscular ass that she wanted to sink her fangs
into.
Fangs?
 “Whoa.” A wave of dizziness had her falling to her knees, but Darius was there to
catch her before she hit the floor.
She stared up at him, his concerned expression seeming to swim around in a mist,
so that all she could pinpoint were his more contrasting features—his short hair, those
dark, bedroom eyes. His grip was strong and sure and he didn’t seem to be straining,
but he was a werewolf and had supernatural strength. She didn’t need to be a waif for
him to find her easy enough to prop up.
“I think it’s happening,” he said.
“Huh?” Her legs went limp as noodles, but he propped her against him with one
arm, and used his free hand to push her sweat-sodden hair out of her face.
“Your wolf.”
“Where?”
He laughed. It was one of those unrestrained, boyish laughs she’d expect from a
teenager and not of a man of—how fucking old is he?
Her eyes crossed and she gave her head a hard shake to focus. “How old are you?
You’re at least eighteen, right?” Gods, don’t tell me I’m robbing anybody’s cradle
here. Eighteen was six years younger than her. There were far more male wolves in
the world than eligible female wolves. Certainly, the odds hadn’t shit on her in such a
way that she’d end up with a man-child as a mate.
Another wave of dizziness washed over her, making her keel forward, and he
scooped her into his arms. “I’m over eighteen.” He started moving toward the back of
the house.
“How much over? Over twenty? Over twenty-five?” The ceiling was spinning
now. She jammed her eyelids closed and drew in a bolstering breath. “Gonna barf.”
Quick as a flash, he deposited her in front of the toilet and pulled her hair back
from her face just before she hurled.
She felt like death, or that she’d be wishing for it soon. Her joints ached, stomach
burned, and head throbbed, as if one million tiny jackhammers were pounding against
her skull. And her skin—fuck, it burns.
She stared at her hand in front of her face through a bleary gaze, and was
momentarily relieved that she wasn’t actually on fire.
She straightened up—as much as one could do while still hugging a commode—at
the sound of water drumming against the tub floor. And she was reasonably sure that
Darius was shucking his pants. Typical man. Leaving her there to die while he
showered off the sex.
“All done?” he asked.
 “Huh?” She pushed one eyelid up a little bit more and closed the other. The
spinning wasn’t so bad that way. He was holding the shower curtain open and peering
down at her.
“Still feel sick?”
“I think I’m done barfing. For now.”
“Play it by ear.” He helped her into her feet and into the shower. The cool spray
made her gasp upon impact, but his bracing arm kept her from crumbling onto the
floor. She hardly noticed the press of his cock against her back as he held her upright,
because she was so busy marveling at the steam her own body seemed to be making
with the water.
“I’m so hot,” she sniffled, and hadn’t even noticed that her nose had been running.
He gave her a one-shoulder massage, keeping his other arm tight around her waist.
“It’ll pass.”
She pushed her face into the shower stream and rubbed her eyes. “When?”
“Soon. Better this way. Some people’s first shift comes while they’re sleeping.
That’s not a hell of a lot of fun.”
“Why not? You know, you could stand to elaborate a little when you talk.” She
eased out of his grip and turned to look at him. He looked positively serene in that
beautiful caveman way of his.
He shrugged. “I would if I had anything worth saying.”
She reached for the grab bar and closed her eyes again. Whoa, spinny spinny. She
swallowed hard to push down the nasty bile creeping up from her belly. “You let me
decide what’s worth hearing. I have no qualms about telling you to shut up if you get
too talkative.”
Male wolves weren’t especially chatty in general, but this guy may have been one
of the most terse she’d ever met.
“Imagine you go to sleep human, and wake up an animal. Disoriented. Scared.”
He tightened his grip on her waist and pulled her more firmly against his body. Hard
chest, hard thighs, hard cock.
She whimpered as another hot surge coiled through her body, and this one had
nothing to do with shapeshifting and everything to do with the sex she shouldn’t want,
because he didn’t want her.
“It’ll be okay soon.”
She huffed.
But maybe he was right. Maybe it would be okay. They’d get along swimmingly if
he kept his negative opinions of her to himself. In fact, she’d be coming out way
ahead of some mated women she knew. She couldn’t help but to want more, though.
The goddess had promised her more in all the dreams Stephanie had after being
absorbed into her father’s pack. Wolf men weren’t as sweet as the ones in Stephanie’s
dreams. They simply didn’t exist that way. Hell, they weren’t even that sweet in fairy
tales. She turned slowly, holding onto his telephone pole-like arms to keep from
slipping, and fixed her gaze on him. He was beyond good-looking. Tall, dark, and
handsome had always done it for her. They’d make pretty kids. There was nothing
wrong with the genetics here—the raw goods.
“Aren’t you pretty?” she muttered.
His dark eyes widened a bit.
Gods forbid he ever play poker. He can’t hide a damned thing in his expression.
She put her hands on her hips and examined the rest of him. Defined chest, long torso,
lean hips.
She canted her head sideways and set her gaze on the thing that had been impaling
her only minutes ago. “It’s very nice.”
He dropped his hands from her shoulders and cupped himself.
“Now, now, it’s only fair,” she said through clenched teeth, yanking her gaze back
up to his face. Wet warmth tracked down her chin and onto her chest, and Darius
yanked the shower curtain aside. He grabbed a washcloth, pressed it to her mouth, and
drew it back.
“You’re cutting it.”
“Huh?”
“Your lip. Your—” he peeled back his lips, extended his wolf’s fangs into his bite,
and pointed to them.
“What?” She pressed her hand to her mouth and felt the truth for herself. Sharp,
long, new. She let out a whimper and fixed a pleading gaze on him.
He nudged her back under the spray.
“Words!” she shouted as the cool water pelted her boiling skin. “I’m not psychic.
Tell me what’s happening to me.”
“Shit. Uh—you’re a moon shifter? Your clan?”
“Do our wolves shift for the full moon? Yes.”
“You might have had a little time to adjust, otherwise. The wolves in our pack,
including Mrs. Carbone, are different. We shift when it suits us.”
“I’m—I’m going to shift now? No.” She shook her head. “Not yet. I’m not ready.”
 “I think you are.”
“Oh, gods.” She gripped that grab bar again and held on tight as a powerful cramp
in her midsection doubled her over. “I don’t want to.”
“It’ll get better. I promise.”
“Liar. You’d—oh, gods—tell me anything.”
He let out a long breath and nudged the water handle to the off position. “Only the
truth. That’s all that’s worth saying,” he said quietly. His voice seemed tender, almost,
though she may have been misreading him. He could have simply been tired. She sure
was after such a long two days. “I’m gonna take you out to the patio. Don’t want to be
in such an enclosed space when the wolf comes out.”
“Naked?”
“No one will see. Besides, wolves are naked all the time. Not a big deal.”
“Right, right.” She knew that.
He’d helped her over the tub ledge when a suffocating internal implosion dropped
her to her knees. She scratched at her chest and tried to find some air. So full, so much
inside—stifling her, something was pressing against her skin, demanding to be let out.
“Come on.”
She was writhing atop his shoulder when her claws broke loose and a low growl
rent the air.
“Shhh. It’s okay, Stephanie.” He carried her onto the back patio and the cool night
air calmed her mind, but energized her inner wolf.
The wolf wanted out. She wanted out immediately, and she wasn’t going to wait.
Oh, gods! “Put me down. Please, Darius.”
He did, but pressed his hands to her cheeks and forced her gaze up to him. “Look
at me.”
“I am.”
“Keep looking. You’re going to forget.”
“Forget what? I’m not going to forget you.” How could I possibly forget that face?
She gritted her teeth and dug her claws into his sinewy flesh as her hips and spine
morphed painfully inside her, lengthening in some places, compressing in others.
Pain, pain, pain.
“Your wolf will forget, at first. Look at my face, and don’t stop looking. I’ll shift
with you. Learn my wolf’s face before you run.”
Her brain was a fog of uncertainty and terror, but she gave her head a hard nod,
anyway. There was no turning back. “I never forget.”
She felt something spring forth from her chest then, and her legs seemed to vanish.
And that was it.
 CHAPTER FOUR

Stephanie was reasonably sure she was still alive, but the last time she made an
assumption about something, she’d ended up driving the wrong way and onto a
highway exit ramp.
The last things she remembered were a fuckload of searing pain, and that dark,
dark gaze locked onto her. Her mate’s gaze.
Did I shift?
She was on her side now, curled into a ball on a soft surface. She gave her fingers
experimental wiggles, and then her toes. They felt normal enough—human enough.
She opened first one eye, then the other, and her gaze focused on the masculine lump
on the bed beside her. He lay back against the headboard, a knee propped up as he
stared at the muted television on the dresser.
“What time is it?” Her voice was hoarse, but recognizable. She sounded like
Stephanie, and not a wolf. Words, not woofs.
He reached for the remote, but she grabbed his wrist.
“Leave it on for the light,” she said.
“Okay. It’s around four.”
“How long have we been in here?” In his bedroom. She rolled onto her back and
scanned what she could of it from her supine position. There wasn’t much to see
beyond the bed and dresser. He was probably still getting around to buying stuff, just
like in the living room. The emptiness actually soothed her confused inner wolf. She
could put her mark on the house—her new den. It was home now, a place of
belonging, if she dared let it be. A silver lining.
“About an hour,” he said.
Closing her eyes, she swatted her hair back from her face. “Why is my hair still
wet?”
“Washed it again. I put you in the shower when we got back.”
“I don’t remember that.”
“Memory’ll get better.”
 “I hope so.” She rolled onto her side and, suddenly cold, realized her nakedness.
She took a moment to get under the covers. Decent sheets, surprisingly. Soft.
“You cold?”
“No,” she said. “I’m actually quite hot.”
He furrowed his brow. “Covers won’t help that.”
Don’t get distracted. Before she’d started shifting, she’d intended to talk to him.
Or talk at him, rather, given his unwillingness to speak. “I think we need to set some
ground rules.”
“About what?”
“For one thing, about how we’re going to run day-to-day stuff in the household.”
His brow wrinkled even more. “Okay. Like what?”
“For one thing, I’m not your cook, or your maid.”
“I’ve been doing fine without either.”
“I had to say it. I grew up outside of a pack, mostly. My sense of fairness is
probably calibrated differently from most wolves.” She waited for the rebuttal, but
none came. His gaze fell to his hands. Strong and busy. They always seemed to be
moving. Is he nervous? She’d never known a nervous wolf.
What does that mean? She compartmentalized the question to ponder later.
“Um, second, keep work discussions outside.” Wherever male wolves gathered,
bad behavior tended to follow, and that included taunting, leering, and criticizing.
He turned slowly back to the television screen, and she finally took a look at what
he was watching. It was some documentary about a museum tracing the provenance
of a piece of art. She’d seen it before. It wasn’t entertaining, per se, but interesting. At
least, in her opinion.
“I keep missing the tail end of it,” he said. “Sorry if I seem distracted.”
“You’ve seen it before?”
“Most of it. Something always happens to pull me away at the end. No work in the
house. Got it. Guys don’t come here much, anyway.”
“Why?”
“I like quiet. Hard to get, sometimes.”
“Is my being here bothering you for more reasons besides your revulsion of my
appearance?”
“No. Your energy is more or less psychically neutral. Doesn’t take up a lot of
space. I don’t feel crowded with you here.” He dropped the remote and swiveled to
face her. “And what?”
“You don’t have to say anything to placate me. I get it. You were expecting a
certain kind of woman, and you didn’t get that. Unfortunately, I am what I am, and I
try to be confident in spite of it. That’s hard sometimes.”
“Is this about you being half-wolf? I’ve never heard of that being a problem.”
“It’s more a problem than you would think in some packs, but this isn’t about that.
It’s about me looking like I’d bring up the rear in a pack race.”
“You seem to be in good enough shape, and your wolf is…well, she’s…incredible.
She’s so pretty. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a wolf with such red fur.”
Incredible? The wolves in her father’s pack would have probably threatened to
burn her at the stake for being a furry, red aberration. “Don’t bullshit me.”
“I’m not. The…the goddess is said to have had red fur in her wolf form.”
She did?
Stephanie gnawed on her lips, considering it. She had never heard that, but most
of what she’d learned about the goddess had been through the veil of dreams.
Everything else was in scraps here and there from her mother, and Mom was certainly
no expert.
She looked at him and found him staring at his hands again.
“You’re missing your show.”
“It’s not important. Tell me why you’re angry at me. I don’t understand what I did
wrong.”
“That’s part of the problem. You don’t even know you’re doing it.”
“What am I doing?”
“You looked at me like I was garbage.”
“When?”
“In the living room, when I took off my shirt. Your gaze went right to my doughy
bits.”
“What ‘doughy bits?’”
“Don’t play dumb.”
“Really. Show me what I was looking at.”
She pointed to the television. “Commercial’s over. It’s getting to the good part.”
His jaw flapped silently for a few beats, and his gaze flitted between the television
and her face.
 “You actually want to see that?”
“It’ll repeat.”
“Eventually.”
He growled and turned off the television. “Tell me what I did wrong.”
“When I was on my back on the sofa, you closed your eyes when you saw me.
You looked away.”
“You were naked.”
“Yep.”
“And I was hard.”
“And…”
“I think one thing is related to the other.”
“In my experience, most men can get it up in spite of what they’re looking at if
they try hard enough. Once they get inside, it all feels the same.”
“You’re nuts.”
“Why?” Her voice cracked in that way it always did when she argued with her
father. It didn’t matter that she was right, usually. He had a knack for making her feel
like everything she said was wrong—like everything was her fault. “Because I called
you out on it?”
“You asked me to—”
“I know what I asked you to do. I was desperate. I shouldn’t have expected
tenderness.”
Gaping, he scraped a hand through his hair and fixed that intense, dark stare on
her. So familiar, and yet she couldn’t put a finger on why. “We’re supposed to get
married in a few hours, and you already hate me.”
“Other way around.”
“Whatever you think I did, tell me what it was now, so I can call you a liar.”
“You were repulsed.”
“No!” He shook his head and gave his hair a quick yank. His energy flared,
electrifying the room before he closed his eyes and snapped it back in.
She rubbed the prickling hairs on her arms and pulled in a deep inhalation. Oh my
god. He may not have been an alpha in title, but he certainly had the energy of one. It
was unmistakable. He wasn’t some run-of-the-mill wolf.
Does anyone else know? Does the pack know what he is?
 “Why did you think that?” His plaintive voice that made her feel like the biggest
bitch on the face of the Earth.
Fuck. She ground her palms against her gravely eyes and blew out a breath. “It
was a logical conclusion.”
“Based on what?”
“Life experience.”
“I—”
Whatever he thought to say, he let fall off. Maybe he didn’t know what to say
either, and for the moment, that suited her fine, because neither did she.
She burrowed her face against the fluffy pillow. “Finish your show.”
He didn’t move at first, but after a few seconds, turned the television back on, this
time with the sound on low.
She peeked out from under the pillow to watch his face as he stared at the screen.
Now that she’d felt his frustration and tasted his lick of power, he was a bit easier to
read. That undercurrent of anxiety she’d stoked in him was still there. He may have
looked calm, but her new wolf sense of smell caught the remnants of his testosterone
spike…and of her lingering hormones, as well. Unpracticed though she was, she
pulled her energy in as tight as she could and watched his body gradually relax.
He let out a slow, relieved exhalation and focused on the television screen.
“Yes!” Darius whispered and gave his fist a pump in the air.
That was the end of the show. The paining was a legitimate early work of a well-
known artist, and had been a commissioned gift to some practically forgotten
princess.
Stephanie pushed up onto her elbows and looked over her shoulder to see the
credits rolling. “I love a good mystery.”
“Yeah.” His smoldering gaze flitted to her and quickly back to the screen. His
anxiety had all but dissipated.
He sucked at eye contact, at least with her. She’d never known a werewolf to have
that problem, but again, it seemed there was very little about him that was typical.
He turned off the television and slid the remote onto the nightstand. “Should I
sleep on the sofa?”
“Why?”
“I just thought—”
“It’s your bed, Darius. Get in. I don’t bite.”
 “Actually, you do.”
She cringed and let her head hit the pillow. Her verbal “bites” had probably been
worse than the ones with teeth. She was ashamed about them now. In the same way
everyone in her father’s pack unfairly judged her, shed done the same to him. She
hadn’t even given him a chance. She should have trusted the goddess. Her dreams had
told her that things would get better, not worse. Stephanie was obviously self-
sabotaging. It was almost as if she was afraid of happiness because it’d been so long
since she’d felt it.
Whether she was a ravening beast or not, he got in, and settled onto his belly.
Fix this.
She hoped Darius could forgive and forget, and that he wanted to go through with
the next step. There was still a chance he was that wolf the goddess thought Stephanie
needed. She forced a swallow down her tight throat. “What time’s the ceremony?”
“Early. Maybe six or seven.”
“Why so early? Are you all afraid we’ll change our minds and run off before we
put our signatures on the marriage licenses?” She tried to put a bit of tease in her
voice, but given the nervous break in it, likely didn’t quite manage to.
He furrowed his brow again. “I didn’t set the time. Mrs. Carbone arranged it.”
“That was a joke. A bad one, but still.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
He drew his energy in more tightly around him as if he feared it was in her way.
The opposite was true. Her inner wolf was doing the psychic equivalent of rolling
around in it—nesting in it as if it were a comfortable, familiar blanket.
Give it back to me, wolf.
She gave his hard bicep a little poke and settled back beneath the covers. “Where
will the ceremony be?”
He rubbed his arm and pulled the shyest grin, but his energy opened back up. It
wasn’t the flood of power it had been before, but a casual sort of draping over the two
of them that made her inner wolf feel quite at home. “Over at the Norseton mansion.”
“And that’s what this community is called? I was asleep when we arrived, so I
missed the drive through.”
“Mm-hmm. You should go explore tomorrow. Can get most everything you need
in town.”
“And you work for them at the mansion?”
He grunted. “We provide security services to the Afótama. That’s what they’re
called.”
She’d never heard of them and had no idea what they were, and her taciturn mate
didn’t seem willing to elaborate. She was going to squeeze the words out of him
anyway, though. She refused to be kept in the dark. If she was going to be a Pack
member, she wasn’t going to be some wolf on the fringes who was ignored until some
man saw fit to yell at her about what she was or wasn’t.
She knew all that already, and she didn’t choose to be only half wolf. Why did they
act like I did?
Darius’s warm hand molded against her forehead and slipped down to her cheek.
Her lungs tightened then, and her breath caught.
She tilted her chin up for the stroke of his callused fingers. His touch was tender,
but what made it all the more surprising was that it was voluntary. She hadn’t asked
for it.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Why do you ask?”
“You smell…stressed, I guess. Like prey.”
“I’m not stressed, just—” Just what? Pitiful? She shook her head and let out a
long breath. Time for a subject change. “So, it’s just you five? You, Alpha, and?”
What were the names?
“Yeah. Me, Alpha, Anton, Vic, and Colt. That’s all for the moment. Working on
hiring more for the security crew, but that’s hard. People have to have the right
qualifications.”
“Such as?”
“Helps if they know about our world, and can be quiet about it.”
“Oh.” Duh. Stephanie was used to holding her tongue in that regard. She’d known
about shifters all her life, even if she hadn’t grown up with them. They were
something she understood intrinsically not to discuss with outsiders, even when she so
badly wanted to. There weren’t many people she could confide in besides her mother,
and she tried to keep her mother’s head clear of Pack business. She didn’t want to
traumatize the woman, telling her all about the world she was partitioned from. “How
long have you been working for them?”
“Not long. Since winter.”
Six months or so, then. She waited on him to elaborate, but as usual, he didn’t.
Maybe I should let him sleep.
But she couldn’t, not until the glut of anxiety in her belly unfurled. It was of her
own making, of course. She’d gotten herself indignant and self-righteous over a
misconception, and now he probably thought she was a dingbat, though she wasn’t.
She didn’t want him to think that, so she had to fix it. She had to keep talking and
make her wolf talk, too. “So, what’s your job in the pack?”
“They mostly let me work solo. Surveillance, and stuff like that. I’m good at it.”
“Not used to working in teams?”
“Never really had a chance to in my birthpack. Left so early.”
She cringed. She’d heard it was common for packs to expel male wolves when the
populations were too heavily dominant. It was less of a problem in her pack, because
they were city dwellers, and their men exerted their compulsions to lead and rule at
work, and not just at home. They probably felt less threatened by the young men in
the pack and more secure in their stature. If they had people bowing down to them at
work, they were less needy for submission from the pack. “How old were you?”
“Nine.”
She bolted upright. “Nine?”
He opened his eyes and bobbed his shoulders. “Yeah.”
“Your parents let you go at nine?”
“Wasn’t really up to them. It was Alpha’s decision.”
“That’s bullshit. Little kids aren’t threatening. You couldn’t have even hit puberty
yet.”
“They liked to get rid of boys before they were threatening.”
“Like I said, that’s bullshit.”
“You don’t think I’m threatening?”
“I…” She let the words trail off, and looked at him as best she could in the dark.
The ruggedly handsome face, with his long, solidly built body. She caught a mental
flash of his wolf stalking her, backing her away from some chasm—warning her off
with bared fangs and a forbidding growl.
Had that happened?
She couldn’t remember a thing about her run as a wolf, but the familiarity of his
face and form settled into her. The pieces came together bit by bit the longer she
stared at his unreadable expression.
He’d followed her the whole time, but had given her space to run and explore.
Sometimes, he’d run ahead to redirect her. More than once, he’d let her jump on him
and nip annoyingly at his fur because she didn’t want to be stalked, and he’d just take
it until she got bored and skittered on to the next thing.
 He was like his wolf. Calm, but powerful. Watchful.
Those dark eyes had seen so much, and she’d seen them countless times before.
Her dreams had been haunted by them. They’d belonged to the silent wolf who just
watched…who waited to be rejected, just like her.
How could I reject him?
“I’m not afraid of you,” she said. “You didn’t bite back. You didn’t fight me off
when I was a wolf.”
“You remember that?”
“I do now. Any other wolf would have knocked me away and been frustrated with
me.”
His energy clung to her a bit more experimentally, it seemed, and she wanted to
hold onto it. It said everything his words didn’t. It said he was trying, and that meant
so much, because it was easier for wolves to cling to the status quo.
“I’m not that kind of wolf,” he said.
She was starting to see that.
 CHAPTER FIVE

Darius had been eight the last time he let a woman pick out his clothes, and had no
particular desire to revert to that stage of dependence, but Stephanie insisted. With it
being zero-dark-thirty in the morning, he didn’t have the fight in him to argue.
Besides that, letting her dress him seemed to be an easy way to please her, and he
needed all the easy he could get, because the hard shit kept knocking him on his
stupid ass. He still wasn’t certain he’d made adequate amends for offending her yet.
She pawed through the contents of his closet, held up this shirt to his chest and
then that shirt, muttering all the while about the lack of options available.
He didn’t need many options. He spent most of his time coated in a sheen of desert
dust, and occasionally, someone else’s blood. Fancy clothes would have been a waste.
Still wearing a towel tucked around her delectable body, and with her wet hair
dripping over her shoulders, she notched her fists onto her hips and pouted at him.
Oh, hell. What’d I fuck up this time? He gulped. “What?”
“I don’t imagine there’ll be any stores open at this time of morning?”
“Nope. Thank the gods.” Shopping was a kind of or else venture for him. He did it
only when he had no choice, and as quickly as possible.
She squinted at him.
He’d probably said the wrong thing again. He was better off just saying nothing,
but she didn’t seem to like it when he was quiet, either.
“Can you pull some strings and get a shopkeeper to roll out of his bed?”
“Me?” He pointed to himself for emphasis, just in case something was being lost
in translation.
“Yes, you. Can you?”
Hell no. “Why?”
“Because I’d like my mate to be in a suit on his wedding day, or at least a shirt that
doesn’t have suspicious stains on it.” She held out a frayed button-up that had some
motor oil splatter on one of the sleeves.
“I doubt any of the other guys are going to be dressed up.”
 “I’m marrying you, not them. They can wear whatever they want and I’ll pay no
attention.”
“A suit, though? On a wolf?” He couldn’t tamp down the laugh, and he knew the
guys in the pack were going to give him ever so much shit about it. The closest thing
any of them had to a suit was matching leather vests and pants. The idea of getting
dressed up and having so many people staring at him as if he were a rare zoo animal
unsettled his stomach.
“If it’s too much to ask, I’ll figure out something else.”
“No, I’ll…I’ll take care of it.” He didn’t want to disappoint her. Shit. He raked his
hand through his short hair and forced out a breath. A conversation first thing in the
morning, and he hadn’t even had a pot of coffee yet. The scenario was definitely a
first for him.
He strode to the kitchen and found the Norseton community directory beneath a
pile of flattened beer cases. He tossed it onto the counter and flipped through the
retailer listings, then cross-referenced the merchant name with his personal number.
Finally, he grabbed the cordless phone from the wall and pulled in a long inhalation.
Shit.
He hated making phone calls. They seemed even worse than speaking face-to-face
with someone. In person, at least he could resort to using crude sign language to get
his point across if necessary. On the phone, all he could do was sigh constantly and
punctuate every sentence fragment with Um.
As the phone rang on the other end, he pinched the bridge of his nose, tapped his
right foot rapidly against the tile floor, and hoped that the man didn’t answer. At least
then he could say that he tried.
“Hello? There’d better be a fire,” Tim Gimbel said when he answered.
“Uh, no—” Shit. Hang up and lie.
Darius shifted his weight and found Stephanie at his elbow, waiting with
hopefulness written all over her exquisite face.
Her faith in him seemed misplaced.
Fuck. She’s not asking for much. Just do it. Anyone else could do it.
“S-sorry to call so early. I wouldn’t have, but my mate is, uh, and I—I’m sorry.
This is Darius Lucas, one of the pack members.”
“Huh?”
Shit. Darius pinched his nose again and willed the knots in his brain that squeezed
off the route between intelligence and speech to unravel. He knew what he needed to
tell the man, generally speaking, but not necessarily the order that the words needed to
come out in, or even which words to choose. There was a reason he didn’t do
negotiations for the pack.
“Give me the phone,” Stephanie whispered, and extended her hand. Reluctantly,
he placed the phone into it.
Damn. Wonderful performance, Einstein. If he were lucky, she wouldn’t be
accessorizing his new suit with a dunce cap.
“Hello. Good morning, sir. Sorry it’s so rudely early, but we hoped you’d take pity
on us and open your shop up for a few minutes. We’re getting married in an hour, and
Darius doesn’t own any clothing fit to be photographed.”
Thanks to his superior wolf hearing, Darius could decipher every one of Tim’s
words, even with the phone pressed to Stephanie’s ear. “Dear lord. I’d hoped to one
day sell him something more than socks,” Tim said.
Darius sighed. The guy had tried to corner him with a measuring tape more than
once, insisting Darius wore his jeans far too loose, but Darius needed them loose. He
wouldn’t be able to hide all his weapons if he wore them as tight as the trend seemed
to call for.
“I just need a two-piece suit, and”—she let her gaze track down his body—“I
don’t imagine you’d have any Oxfords in his size? He’s got to be a twelve.”
Twelve-and-a-half. Now she wanted him to break in new shoes at fucking dawn,
too? No way. “Stephanie—”
“I might,” Tim said. “I’m pulling on some pants and heading downstairs now. I
live right over the shop.”
“Yay! Thank you so much. We’ll be there in ten minutes. I promise, I’ll come back
in the afternoon and make your broken sleep worth your while. I moved here with just
four suitcases. Can you imagine?”
“Honey, I don’t even want to. Come on down. My cash register awaits.”
Stephanie hung up and beamed at him while adjusting the top of her towel.
“You’re getting a suit, wolf.”
“Great.” He groaned at the slip of one of her breasts over the top of the towel.
Instinctively, he reached for it, only to stop his hand at the last second.
She was apparently oblivious to his distress, seeing as how she turned on her heel
and hauled ass to the bedroom. “Brush your hair. We’re leaving in two minutes.”
He had brushed his hair, so he just flopped onto the sofa and pulled on his boots.
She came out a few minutes later wearing bright red lips and a lacy, cream-colored
mini-dress that barely contained her delectable assets.
 She sighed. “Don’t like it?”
“Huh?” He tried to discreetly adjust himself. He liked it a lot.
The men in the pack were going to stare, and he might have to kill them a little.
“I didn’t try it on before I packed it. It was one of the few things I didn’t give
away or sell before I moved. I figured I’d use it for the ceremony. I wouldn’t be able
to keep a straight face wearing a long white gown.”
“No, it’s okay.” He wanted to bend her over and hitch it up to her waist, just so he
could look at it from another angle. If his dick ended up in her sometime during that
inspection, so be it. No one could blame him.
“Just okay? Ugh.” She shrugged. “It’ll have to do. I don’t imagine I’ll get much
opportunity to wear it out here.” She grabbed a little handbag and tottered over in sky-
high heels as red as her lips. “Ready?”
“Sure.” He cringed, realizing a moment too late what he’d said. He imagined most
women liked to think they looked a little better than okay. He felt around in his brain
for some better words, but she was already out the door, tossing her still-damp hair
over her shoulder as she went.
He paused in the doorway long enough to bang his head against the frame a few
times.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. He couldn’t even pretend to be civilized long enough to get
past their honeymoon period. She was going to be one of those mates who never came
home because her husband was such a loser, and he wasn’t the kind of wolf who’d go
out and drag her home. He may have sounded unintelligent, but he was smart enough
to keep his pride in check. Hubris was for flawless wolves, and he’d never be that.
___
Darius leaned against the Norseton Town Square’s gazebo and folded his arms
over his chest. He watched Mrs. Carbone fiddle with her camera, trying to get the
settings right, and somehow managed to block out Colt’s heckling. He’d started the
moment Darius had stepped into the executive mansion’s atrium before their civil
ceremonies.
“Are you letting a woman dress you now? Can’t pick out your own clothes? You
might a well consider that necktie your noose, man.”
Stephanie had glared at Darius, as if expecting him to lash out at Colt, but Darius
was used to the taunting. It was easier to stay away from Colt than to try to change the
man’s ways, so that was what Darius did. That tactic didn’t make their occasional
interactions any more tolerable, however.
And Darius was the only one in a suit. The other Pack members—excluding Beast
and his mate, who for some reason, were missing—had worn their usual clothes. Well,
the ladies had dressed up a little, but the guys had on their typical denim and leather.
It was more or less clean, probably. Mrs. Carbone might have had a fit if it wasn’t.
Mrs. Carbone pushed Darius and Stephanie into position near the gazebo opening
and shooed everyone else away. Stephanie reached up and patted down his hair, her
tongue appearing at the corner of her red lips as she manipulated it. So intense, her
inspection of him. No one ever looked at him like that—touched him like that. It was
an odd feeling, having a woman be completely his. He both liked it and dreaded the
day it would stop, which he suspected would be sooner, rather than later. He’d seen a
similar thing with his parents. His mother had grown disenchanted with his father, but
he wouldn’t let her leave, so she’d holed herself up into the bedroom and only came
out when he left. Darius couldn’t help but think that would be his fate as well.
Enjoy it while you can.
Sighing, he draped his forearms over her shoulders and let her fondle him as she
saw fit.
“You got him to put on a suit, but you couldn’t get him to brush his hair
properly?” Mrs. Carbone called out.
“I did,” Darius said, probably too low for anyone but Stephanie to hear.
“He probably thinks he did.” Stephanie settled back into place beside him,
slinging her arm around his waist and cocking her head coquettishly for the camera.
Oh. Pose, stupid.
“Try looking like you care, Loner!” Colt called out.
“I don’t know why you don’t kick his ass,” Stephanie said through her photo-
ready grin. “And if you don’t want to smile, don’t smile.”
“I look dumb.”
She looked up at him. “What, smiling?”
He nodded.
“What makes you think that?”
“I own a mirror.”
“Obviously, you don’t know how to interpret the images it shows you, then.” She
sighed. “No time to talk you into it now. How about a smirk?”
He pushed his lips into something he hoped looked like what she wanted.
Stephanie got in front of him, pressed that lush, soft body of hers against his, and
used her thumbs to move his lips where she wanted them. “Don’t worry if it feels
dumb. You look amazing. Hold that pose.” She settled next to him again and angled
her body toward his.
I look amazing? No one had ever told him that before. A few women had made
pretty close statements about his dick, but not about him in general.
Mrs. Carbone finally took the damned picture. “At least we have one couple that
looks decent enough to put their picture in a frame. Back in my day, folks dressed up
for their mates.”
“I want a do-over,” one of the ladies said. “Can I take him home, redress him, and
bring him back?”
Mrs. Carbone groaned. “You could try, but good luck. Remember, they have to be
back at work tomorrow morning, so use your hours wisely.”
Stephanie plopped her fists onto her hips and cast her gaze toward Norseton’s
Main Street, then at Darius. She pushed up an eyebrow. “Can I trust you to hang those
clothes?”
“You mean I have to keep them?”
“Of course you do.” She smoothed his lapels and skimmed her hands around his
jacket’s waist, letting them linger at the base of his back. Pressed against him that
way, her cleavage strained temptingly at the top of her dress, and he wanted to bend to
lick it. He needed to act less like an animal, not more, however, so he resisted. “You
look so good. You should wear suits more often. You’re built for them.”
Colt walked past them, making a whip-cracking sound, and his mate followed
behind, vibrating with a frustrated growl.
Stephanie watched them leave, and turned back to Darius. “Is there some beef
between you two?”
He felt stupid standing there with his arms at his side when she was holding him,
so he put one hand on her shoulder, then the other. That didn’t feel too awkward.
Fucking her was easy. He knew where to put his hands and body when he was having
sex, but he hadn’t had practice with casual touch. Apparently, Stephanie expected
some. He didn’t want to disappoint her, especially after seeing how he’d already
managed to offend her once without trying. Or was it twice?
“No,” he said after a moment. “Colt antagonizes everyone, except Alpha.”
“No one’s tried to hand him his ass yet?”
“Not worth it.”
Her narrowed eyes and the aggressive jut of her chin said that she didn’t agree. It
was kind of cute, her indignation. No one had ever been offended on his behalf before
—not even his own mother.
 “I’ve known these guys for a long time. I know how to deal with them.”
She let go of his waist and yanked her dress up by the bodice.
Thank the gods. Given too much more temptation, he might have had his mouth
on her right there in Town Square. Not like he hadn’t done similar things in public
before, but none of those women had been keepers, and they’d been just as eager to
show his wares to the world. Intercourse in public was a sort of a pack rite of passage.
They’d all done it, except for Alpha. Alpha kept his business behind closed doors.
Lately, Darius tried to follow his example as much as he could.
“You’re staring at my chest,” Stephanie said.
He forced his eyes closed. Easier than making eye contact and seeing the
judgment on her face. “I’m sorry.”
“I actually do believe you are, but can I ask why you’re looking?”
“That should be obvious.”
“Assumptions are going to get us into trouble, as we’ve already learned, so why
don’t you just tell me what you’re thinking.”
“Seriously?” He opened his eyes only to force his eyebrows up.
She nodded.
“I don’t know what to say.” He never knew what to say.
“Start with a few words, and then give me a few more.”
“Uh.” He raked a hand through his hair, then gave it a tug. He was going to get in
so much trouble with his mate. “I was hoping they’d pop out.”
“Why?”
“So I’d have an excuse to touch them as I put them away.”
“You could just ask.”
“For what?”
“To touch me.”
“Here?”
She let out a restrained laugh. “No. In general.”
She has got to be kidding me.
“Okay.” She pushed back some locks of her bright hair and straightened his lapels
again. “Go hang up your suit. I’ll catch up to you for breakfast.”
This has to be a trap. He’d walk away, and she’d be pissed later for not resisting
more.
 She got behind him and gave his ass a push in the general direction of the wolf
housing. “Go. I need to do some shopping. It’s just going to bore you.”
“You’ll need a ride back.” He was grasping at straws, and it was stupid. If she
were going to run, she probably would have done it before having the chance to say,
“I do.”
“Leave me the golf cart, if you don’t mind walking.”
“I don’t mind.” Still, he didn’t move.
“Waiting to watch me walk away?”
“No. Just…making sure you don’t need anything.” Am I supposed to kiss her
goodbye, or is that something only people on television do? He wouldn’t mind kissing
her so much. Colt would probably have oh-so-much shit to say if Darius ended up
with lipstick smeared all over his face, but Darius didn’t care. He wasn’t married to
Colt and, fortunately, didn’t have to live with him. Living on the road with the guy for
close to two decades had been torture enough. “Should I kiss you?”
She let out the prettiest little laugh Darius had ever heard and tossed her hair over
her shoulder. Her hair smelled like his shampoo. He thought she must have hated that,
but it made his inner wolf howl with triumph. She wore his essence mingled with the
residual scent of his shampoo. It would have been obvious to anyone in the pack with
a nose whom she belonged to. “Only if you want to.”
He bent down to do it, and she gripped his face, holding him back a bit. She gave
him the barest skim of her lips across his, and giggled.
What the fuck?
“Run along now. Maybe next time you’ll kiss me like you mean it.”
Confused, he started toward Pack housing.
He might have put his mark on her and a ring on her finger, but even combined, he
wasn’t so sure they’d be enough to pin Stephanie down. She was beautiful, smart, and
social, and he’d…well, he’d been raised by wolves, up until he was nine.
He wasn’t like other wolves. Colt was right in calling him “Loner” because that
was how Darius was wired. But, lone wolves generally didn’t take mates, especially
not prizes like Stephanie. He could only hope that when she figured that out, she
wouldn’t ask to be let out of the arrangement.
She probably would, though.
Stephanie deserved better than him.
 CHAPTER SIX

A few things were becoming painfully clear to Stephanie. One, that she was mated
to, and now married to, an antisocial werewolf. Second, that wolf had the social
awareness of a preteen boy. Third—considering his cock’s insistent poke against her
back during the Pack’s post-wedding group photos—he didn’t seem to have any
revulsion to her body. She could have minimized his response by telling herself he
was just a lusty wolf, and lusty wolves were always primed and ready, but she’d
watched how his gaze tracked. When he wasn’t looking shyly in her direction, he was
staring at his fidgeting hands or fixing his attention on whoever was speaking at the
moment. It was painfully obvious he had no idea what to do with her. That suited
Stephanie just fine, because she knew exactly what to do with him.
She parked the golf cart on the path winding around the back of her new home and
grabbed the grocery bags out of the storage area first. She found Darius standing at
the kitchen counter, tapping away on a laptop. He closed the lid, hurried to her, and
took the bags.
“You didn’t waste any time getting out of that suit, huh?”
“You’ve been gone three hours.”
Was that a whine in his voice? She tucked her hair behind her ears and kicked off
her high heels, studying him. His expression gave nothing away, but his energy shrank
back from her. He didn’t want her to know how he felt. That was obvious. It was
becoming increasingly evident to her that the mood reading didn’t work in both
directions. If it did, he would have known how open she was to him. He may have
been able to smell her adrenaline when it spiked or her pheromones when she was
primed and ready, but he didn’t seem to feel the changes in her energy.
Odd.
Wolves tended to have different strengths—nothing was universal—but she found
it unusual that upon getting her bite, she’d developed a gift that no one she knew
personally had.
Where did it come from?
Alpha or Mrs. Carbone seemed to be the most logical people to ask, and she filed
the question away on her mental to-do list. “I, uh, poked my head into a few shops
and businesses to say hello to people.”
He furrowed his brow. “Saying hello takes three hours?”
“Well, I might have bought some things.” Grinning, she canted her head toward
the grocery bags. “If you haven’t eaten, there are pastries.” She headed back to the
door, and he followed.
“I ate without you. Couldn’t wait.”
“Sorry about that. I’m not usually so insensitive.”
The truth was, she’d taken so long because she asked every person she
encountered what he or she knew of Darius, and the pack in general. There’d been so
little information to glean about them before she’d made the trip, so she figured she
should make up for it on the ground. Plus, she wanted to take a few minutes to chat,
unsupervised, with the other mates. There was one who hadn’t shown up for a
ceremony—Christina—who’d been paired up with a wolf even more mysterious than
Darius. So mysterious, in fact, that Stephanie had yet to see him.
Full or not, Darius opened the plastic clamshell on the pastry box and plucked out
a particularly succulent one in the middle.
“Just stay put,” she said. “I’ll get the rest of the stuff.”
He dropped the Danish. “There’s more? I’ll help.”
“No. I wasn’t dropping unsubtle hints. If I wanted help, I would ask for it. Why
beat around the bush with a man like you, right?”
“A—a man like me?” It was as if all of the blood had drained from his face. He
looked at her with a pale glower that might have been frightening under any other
circumstances, but best she could tell, Darius didn’t have much of a temper. He
wouldn’t growl or snap at her like some wolves. He was more like a pathetic stray pup
who carried his food bowl to the corner to eat alone because he didn’t want to fight
anyone for his fair share.
Poor baby.
She had no intentions of making him fight for her. She liked her curious wolf, and
wasn’t going to make him work for what he already had. She did need to give him a
little push, though. She wanted him to have the respect he deserved and not get teased
or criticized by some dipshit wolf who had nothing better to do than taunt. Dipshit’s
mate could deal with him—and from what Stephanie could tell, it was already at the
top of her agenda—just like Stephanie was going to deal with Darius. A wolf’s mate
was supposed to make him better. That didn’t mean changing him; rather, bringing out
the best of what he already had and compensating for his weaknesses. They all had
weaknesses. Being a half-breed, and a mostly useless professional artist, she sure as
shit had hers.
She carried in bags of clothes—giggling at Darius’s continuing pallor—a
pharmacy bag loaded down with hair preparations and assorted other toiletries, and a
few odds and ends from the small office supply store. Their art supply selection had
been small, but she’d managed to pick up a couple of good pads, and put in an order
for canvas. She’d need to find someplace to put an easel…
“Darius,” she called from the bedroom, “what’s in your garage?”
He leaned against the doorframe and brushed pastry crumbs from his T-shirt. The
shirt was printed with an advertisement for some craft festival that had taken place
long enough ago that Christina had still been a child.
“Don’t answer that,” she said. “Is that your shirt?”
He looked down at it. “Yeah. Why?”
“How old are you? You would have thought I would have taken a peek at the
marriage license application.” She’d been too damn distracted by the way her mate
looked in a well-cut suit. The fact she hadn’t jumped his bones in the dressing room
was a testament to her anal-retentive need to be absolutely punctual all the time.
It was a grown man-sized shirt, for certain. So if he’d had it that long, he had to be
far enough over eighteen that she could dispel her anxiety about robbing the cradle.
“Thirty. I’m the youngest in the pack. Or was, rather, until you ladies came.”
“Thank the goddess, you’re not a pup.”
He grinned bashfully and shook his head. “Not a pup.”
“Why do you have a festival shirt?”
“We stopped there one year when we had some downtime. Mrs. Carbone wanted
to go. The guys hated it.”
“What did you think?” If he had more than a passing interest in art, then they
could certainly find some common ground for conversation. All they needed was one
little spark, and she’d run with it. She just had to show him she was easy to talk to.
He shrugged. “I thought it was interesting. For whatever reason, a little old lady
thought I needed to be talked to, and she, uh—” Darius furrowed his brow and
pressed his lips together.
“Tell me.”
“She was saying that she didn’t have any training. She started painting these tiny
little paintings, this big.” He spayed his fingers and made an imaginary square around
his hand, then stared down at his feet. The tips of his ears turned red, and her heart
broke a little. He was so damned shy. “She started doing them after her husband died.
She said that painting was easier than finding words. I always wondered if she was
right.”
She didn’t have to look at him to know he held his breath waiting for her reaction
—her judgment. She could feel the utter stillness of his aura. The part of him that was
wolf wasn’t good at anticipating reactions. For a man like him, everything likely
seemed to be a threat.
Let it go, baby.
“I think she might be, in some ways,” Stephanie said softly. “You should give it a
try.”
He let his breath out slowly and that dreamy gaze of his settled on his hands.
“Maybe I will.”
She wanted to put her arms around his neck and just hug him until he was sure she
was safe, but if she did that, she might not want to let go of him. “So, what’s in the
garage?”
“Uh, just a gun safe.”
“Do you plan on parking a car in there at some point?”
“Not soon. Why? Do you have one that needs transporting?”
“No, I sold my car. I figured if I needed one here, I’d get something better suited
to the terrain.”
“I hadn’t bought anything because everything I looked at was too tall to fit.”
“A gas guzzler.”
“It’s practical for the work I do, unfortunately.”
“Most men from my old pack who drove big vehicles were compensating for
something.” She winked so her clueless wolf would know she was teasing, and he
actually smiled. It was a bit crooked and sheepish, and he must have felt silly, because
he cleared his throat and looked away.
Damn.
She knelt to fold her new pajamas into a dresser drawer. She wasn’t much of a
pajama wearer, generally, but Mrs. Carbone said sometimes she or Alpha popped over
with information or supplies. Stephanie figured she should at the very least have
something easy to throw on. “You could always park in the driveway.”
“That’s the plan. Why the interest in the garage?”
“Need somewhere to put an easel.”
“Oh.” He turned back to her, showing her that some color had finally left his ears
and returned to his face. “You could use the second bedroom. Lighting would
probably be better.”
She clucked her tongue and reached for the rest of the clothes in the bag. It was
mostly jeans. She preferred dresses with fun prints, and had brought plenty, but she
figured she should be prepared for any contingency. “I don’t want to get attached to
the second bedroom. Once I set up a workspace, moving to another would be
disruptive to my creative flow.”
“Why would you have to move?”
“I know how it goes, Darius.” She bumped the drawer closed and flattened the
shopping bag. “Wolves hook up, and within a year, they have a newborn or two. I
think that’s why so many wolf men are your age when they start looking for mates.
They knew that the moment they commit, they’re trapped.”
“I’m not trapped.”
“Aren’t you? You’re stuck with me. Mated wolves don’t do divorce, or,” she made
quote marks in the air, “conscious uncoupling. I’ve got your mark, and I’ve already
claimed your home as my den.” She had a lot of work to do in that den, too. If Darius
was going to coop himself up into it, it needed to be cozy.
“Why are you already thinking of divorce?” He furrowed his brow. “Tell me what
I did wrong. I mean, a lot, I’m sure, but—”
She tossed a wadded-up pair of socks at him, and he snatched them from the air
before they could bounce off his head. “Simmer down, baby. No reason to get
agitated. I’m merely talking about adding kids to the equation. Sometimes, things are
peachy keen until a little screamer comes along, and then you realize you’re living
with a partner you barely had time to get to know, and you don’t know how to
negotiate your interests and hobbies around the new family configuration.”
“Kids?” he asked.
“Yeah.” She held his gaze and kept very still to soothe his nervous inner wolf.
I’m not going anywhere.
“Oh.” He let out a breath and rubbed his eyes. “Wow. Okay. But I—I don’t really
have hobbies, besides shooting things”
“I don’t believe that.”
He shrugged. “I don’t. I work. I watch television until I fall asleep. That’s about
it.”
“I think you try to make yourself out to sound far less interesting than you actually
are.” His power alone made him fascinating, but the fact he kept her guessing made
him abso-fucking-lutely intriguing. “What were you doing on your computer when I
came in?”
He shook his head and pushed away from the doorframe. “It’s silly.”
“Silly, meaning what?” Silly was a word kids used when they were ashamed of a
particular thing. In her experience, adults used that word when they thought other
people would find their interest frivolous. He obviously thought she would.
“Silly meaning…uh…” Darius shifted his weight and furrowed his brow again. “I
dunno. It’s not a big deal.”
“It has to be, because if you were just checking your email, you would have said
that.”
“It’s a class, okay? I…” He fiddled with the hem of his T-shirt and seemed to be
staring through her instead of at her.
Don’t clam up on me now. She was going to keep pushing, and at some point, he
was going to shut her out. She didn’t want that, but getting bits and pieces of
information about him at a time was killing her a little. She wanted to know all about
him. She’d already decided he was worth loving, but her mother would want more
detail than that. Mom would interrogate her and make sure that Stephanie’s wolf was
nothing like her father. As far as she could tell, he couldn’t be closer to opposite if he
tried.
“None of us in the pack, besides Mrs. Carbone, graduated from high school. I have
a GED.”
“That’s perfectly respectable.”
His dark gaze seemed to focus on her, finally, and his hands stilled. “Doesn’t
always seem like it. It’s not the same as the challenge of sitting in a classroom with
other people. I didn’t have much of that as a kid.”
“I imagine you didn’t.” She stood and walked to him. Taking his hand, she guided
him over to the bed.
“I don’t need your pity, Stephanie.” His tone may have had a bit of snap to it, but
he sat on the edge of the bed, ever so meekly for her.
“You think I’m pitying you because I ask questions?”
“That’s usually what questions lead to. Easier to just not say anything.”
She groaned through clenched teeth. He didn’t trust her. While frustrating, it
wasn’t his fault, and it wasn’t something she could fix with the snap of her fingers.
She was the one who’d gotten them off on the wrong foot by making assumptions
about him. Of course he felt like he was dancing along a fine line.
“I just want to know about your class. That’s all.”
 “It’s a pre—prerequisite I need for pretty much any degree program. Basic writing
skills and stuff. I’m not doing so great, though.”
“I might be able to help.”
“That’s okay, I—”
She pressed her hand over his mouth. “Don’t be prideful. I can help. You’re taking
it online?”
After a long stare that was probably meant to be at least a little bit frightening—it
wasn’t because she couldn’t see anything but those sexy, bedroom eyes from her
dreams—he nodded behind her hand.
“Some stuff you just need to be in a classroom for. You retain information faster
sometimes when someone is teaching it in-person and correcting you on the spot.”
He wrapped his hand around her wrist and lowered her hand to his lap. “The guys
don’t know I’m doing it. They won’t see the point. Don’t need it for our job.”
“As if my art has a practical purpose.” Sometimes, there wasn’t a point to
learning, but that didn’t mean the enrichment didn’t trickle down and improve other
aspects of the learner’s life. Art had taught her that things sometimes looked different
on second glance—that they weren’t necessarily what she assumed. She’d forgotten
that at first when it came to Darius, but she wouldn’t forget it again. “I won’t say
anything. What kind of program are you looking at?”
“I…”
“Say it. It’s okay. I promise I’ll only poke a little bit of fun at you.”
His eyes went comically wide.
She laughed just a little and skimmed her fingertips along his unshaven jaw.
Strong, handsome wolf.
He pressed his hand against hers and swallowed. His dark gaze was full of
questions, and she thought she had the answer to at least one. “You can touch me,”
she whispered.
His nod came slowly. He tightened his fingers around hers and closed his eyes.
His energy mellowed. Touch seemed to help him, and she’d have to remember that.
She kissed the back of his hand.
“I don’t know what to study yet. Something useful, just in case the whole wolf-
for-hire thing stops working out.”
Maybe talking was easier for him when he wasn’t looking. She didn’t want him
looking away, but forcing a wolf to adapt to something before he was ready rarely
ended well. It wasn’t her he was adapting to, but the circumstance. She was doing the
same. Very little about Darius was predictable, and that was a good thing. If he were
predictable, he’d be just like the wolves back in her father’s pack.
“There’s nothing particularly useful about my degree,” she said.
“But you made money?”
She shrugged. “Here and there. Money was never my focus, but if that has to
change, I could always get a teaching job.” She leaned back on her forearms and
clucked her tongue. “I probably wouldn’t mind that, actually. Is there a school here?”
“Yeah. Private K through twelve, though tuition is waived for us. It’s like public
school, but they had to have some admission barriers in place in case developments
spring up near this one that would put kids in the same public school zone. Folks in
Norseton have everything they need in the community.”
Long sentences. This is easy for him to discuss.
“Good to know. They probably have an art teacher already, though.”
“Dunno. Wouldn’t hurt to ask. They have the same staffing problems the
community on a whole has. They don’t like hiring outsiders. They’ve got the money
to pay the salaries, just not the applicants.”
“I’ll put that on my to-do list.”
“You’d really be satisfied with taking a teaching job?”
“Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I—” He sputtered his lips and twiddled his thumbs.
Hypotheticals. He doesn’t do well with those. Perhaps he doesn’t have the
experience?
“I guess I just wouldn’t have thought that with you having some money, you
wouldn’t want to work with…the…”
“The what? The hoi polloi?” She nudged him with her elbow and chuckled.
“Commoners? Hey, money just makes freedom easier to come by, at least the way I
spend it. Why’s that so unusual for you?”
He shrugged, and the tips of his ears turned red again. “It’s just not what I’d
expect.”
“I’m sure there are a lot of things about me you’ll find to be unexpected.”
“I think you’re probably right.”
“So, you’ll let me help you?”
And she didn’t just mean with his assignments, but that was a good enough place
to start. She wanted to insinuate herself into every part of his life, if he’d let her. She’d
dreamed of having a mate who’d trust her enough to let her help with the things that
mattered most to him. A mate not only in name, but in actions.
She skimmed a fingertip down his arm and let her hand linger over his.
“If you think you’ll have time.”
“I’ve got nothing but time, for you.”
She lifted his large hand and set it on her naked knee. “But…we might as well be
productive.”
He looked down at it, then into her eyes.
She leaned back onto her forearms and bobbed her eyebrows. “We’re early, but I
don’t think anyone’s going to call us on it.”
“Early for what?”
“It’s our wedding day. Wedding days usually lead to wedding nights, and since it’s
a full moon, I’ll be otherwise occupied.”
“I don’t have to shift for the full moon.”
“Yeah, you told me that last night.” His hand remained in that same spot, so she
reached down and slid it up a few inches. If that wasn’t explicit permission that he
should touch her, she’d have to resort to words. Before she did, though, she wanted to
see just how well the wolf read cues. He didn’t seem to be very good at it, but that
was okay. Maybe he wasn’t so observant as a man, but that was just fine, because she
wasn’t exactly a gold star wolf. According to Mrs. Carbone, it’d probably be weeks
until Stephanie’s wolf fully got her bearings.
He curled his fingers against her thigh and stared at the gap between her legs.
She sighed. “Darius?”
“Yes?”
“That was an invitation for foreplay.”
“Oh.” He stood and immediately started peeling off his shirt.
She grabbed the hem before he could manage. “Are you generally naked for
foreplay?”
He cringed. “I can’t say I’ve had much of it.”
“What do you do when a woman isn’t ready?”
He furrowed his brow. “That’s never been a problem.”
Looking at him, she could imagine how that would be the case, but she didn’t just
want a quick fuck. Not that she doubted his endurance at all, but she imagined he
probably had one speed when it came to sex, and it was of the highly aerobic sort. She
liked for sex to be an experience almost as often as she liked it to just scratch an itch.
People learned a lot about their lovers in the bedroom, and until she could get her
wolf to loosen his tongue, she’d let his body do the talking.
 CHAPTER SEVEN

Darius had never been the kind of man who was easy to humiliate, but he was
veering closer and closer to that place with every interaction with Stephanie. He felt
as though he couldn’t do anything right—that nothing about him was right for her. He
could barely hold a decent conversation, he was undereducated, and obviously not as
worldly as he’d thought.
He stood there, clutching the bottom of his shirt and watching her drum her
fingertips atop the comforter.
She is totally out of my league, and I’m supposed to make her happy somehow? It
was obvious who got the short end of the stick in their relationship.
“Tell me something,” she said. “How do you usually signal to a woman that you
want to have sex with her?”
“I…I don’t have to.”
“They just throw themselves at you?”
He shrugged. That probably had more to do with the sorts of places the pack
lounged at when they were on the road than with Darius’s flirtation skills. Sometimes,
people went to places looking for specific things, and nobody played coy about it.
But, those weren’t women looking for relationships, and they certainly weren’t his
wife.
His wife. He had a wife now. He still couldn’t quite digest it.
“I’ll tell you what I do, then. Sometimes, I’ll do something to draw a potential
lover’s attention to certain body parts. My hands…” She dragged them lightly up her
ribs and let them rest on her heart. “My lips.” She pushed her lips into a petulant pout
that had his nuts tightening. “My chest.” She nudged down a dress strap and let her
bodice sag enticingly on one side, thereby exposing the pale lace of her bra and inches
of creamy skin. “Perhaps my thighs, when I’m having a good leg day.” She crossed
her legs over the edge of the bed and hitched her hem up a few inches in the process.
“Once a man’s looking at me, maybe I’ll tease him.”
“How?” Stupid question. Anyone would eyes could see the effects of her teasing
on him.
 “Depends on what I want.” She uncrossed her legs and spread her thighs even
farther apart than they had been.
His gaze fixed on the shadow between them, and his brain projected what he
hoped to see there, though it wasn’t actually visible.
He moved forward only to stop at the sound of her quiet laughter. “See what I
mean?”
“I’m getting the drift.”
“Do you want to see?” She smirked and hooked an index finger under her hem.
“Yes.” There was really no suave way to confess that, so he didn’t bother digging
around in his head for the words.
“Then come take a look. You’ve got to pay the admission fee first, though.”
“What’s the fee?” He’d empty his wallet if it made her happy, though he didn’t
think she wanted his money. She had her own.
She shrugged and made that semi-exposed breast jiggle.
Gods. He closed his eyes against the sight and ground his teeth. He could probably
nut in his pants just from watching those tiny movements. It’d be just like age
fourteen all over again, minus the bunking-with-other-young-male-wolves thing. Back
then, he could cream in his sleep just from dreaming of a nubile body. He thought
he’d matured past that by now, though.
“I think it’s pretty reasonable,” she said, and leaned back onto her forearms again.
“One kiss.”
“A kiss?”
“Mm-hmm. Too expensive for you?”
“No, not at all.” He unstuck his heels from the floor and moved to the bedside.
She tipped her head back and grinned at him. “I didn’t say what you had to kiss.”
“I—” Oh. “What do I have to kiss?”
“I won’t say. When you hit the right spot, I’ll let you know.”
“That could take a while.”
“I’ve got all afternoon.”
And so did he, if she was willing to indulge him.
He climbed onto the bed behind her and put his hands tentatively under her arms.
Other than to cock up an eyebrow, she didn’t respond, so he pulled her to the center of
the bed and laid her on her back.
 He rubbed his hands together as he examined her lounging form and considered
the possibilities. She’d given him an invitation to touch her, and he wanted to touch
every inch, but he also didn’t want her to get so bored with his fumbling that she sent
him away before he’d had enough. He was skin-starved, and there was a void in him
that it seemed only she could fill. He didn’t know if that was normal, but maybe she
didn’t either. Maybe she wouldn’t be angry for him being so needy.
Her lips were the obvious place to start, but he needed a little time. He nudged that
precariously leaning breast out of her bra cup, bent, and pulled her nipple into her
mouth before she could react.
She gasped and thrust her chest at him. “Th-that’s not technically a kiss.”
“Sorry.” He puckered his lips and pressed the slightest kiss against her breast.
“Not it?”
She shook her head.
“Okay.” He tried the bend of her neck on both sides next, lashing his tongue along
the curves and swirling the tip along the hollows where her neck joined her shoulders.
He fixed his gaze on her, triumphant at the sight of her pinning her succulent bottom
lip between her teeth. “There?”
She shook her head.
“Then let’s try—ah.” He lifted her hands and kissed the backs of both wrists and
the insides of each elbow.
She wriggled and let out a sexy little sigh.
“Damn. Okay. How about…” He tapped his chin as he took in her body in one
long gaze. So fucking beautiful. A wolf’s dream come true, right there in the middle of
his king-sized bed. “Ah. I know.” He bent and kissed where her thighs touched,
rolling his gaze up to her as he drew in her aroused scent. She was wet, he could
already tell, and he was aching hard. He just had to see her, though, and lick her
dripping slit to taste the honey she made for him. “There?”
She gave her head a hard shake.
“No? Damn. I guess my wolf instincts are off.”
“They seem to be working fine from where I’m lying. How about one more try?”
“I’ll try to get it right.” He considered her body from head to toes, and snapped his
fingers in a revelatory fashion. “Aha!” Bending, he pressed his lips to hers, and with a
moan, she opened her mouth.
He’d never been much for kissing. No one had ever demanded it of him, and it
seemed like such a personal thing. But this was his mate. His wife. He could probably
figure out how to manage a decent kiss, and he wanted to if it made her smile at him
the way she did.
He dipped his tongue into her mouth and explored all the soft parts—her tongue,
lips, and the insides of her cheeks—and toyed at the edges of her teeth, savoring the
sharp sting when she bit down a bit. And she kissed back, sliding her fingers into his
hair and pulling him down even more. She nibbled at his lips, bit along his scruffy
jaw, and tugged at his earlobes. She lashed her tongue into his ear, and he was
surprised when he realized the moan he heard was his own.
“Do you want to look?” she asked breathily.
“Yes.”
“Then go ahead. It’s ready for you.”
She spread her legs, and he moved in between them, reaching inside her dress to
snatch her panties off, but there were none there.
“Oh, gods.” He pushed up her hem and got on his belly to see, finally, what he had
gotten and what he would be getting. “So sexy,” he murmured, sliding his index
finger down her wet slit. She’d waxed or shaved, or something—there was just one
small patch of dusky red hair right over her clit, and it seemed to be saying, touch
here—lick here. So, he did. He pulled the little nub into his mouth and rolled it on his
tongue.
“Yes. Like that. More of that.”
“I’m doing okay?”
She pushed his face back against her sex. “Lick. Suck.”
“Right.” He wasn’t done looking, though. He had to see more. He parted her and
took in her slick folds and the inviting wetness between her puffy lips. He put his
tongue right there for a taste and wiggled the tip inside her for some manna straight
from the source. It was the best dessert he’d ever had, and a feast for the eyes unlike
any he’d ever seen. “You make me so fucking hard,” he said before diving back in. He
loved the way she clenched at his touch, how her pussy clamped around his fingers
and tried to draw him in.
“Show me,” she said. “Show me how hard you are.”
“But—”
She hooked her toes into his waistband and pushed his pants down a couple of
inches. Not enough, but he got the idea of what she wanted to see.
“I wasn’t done looking.”
“Look more later. I want to see you now.”
“Me?”
 “Don’t sound so surprised, baby. That’s how relationships go, usually. People in
them take turns.”
“Having never been in one before now, I’ll have to take your word for it.”
She sat up and performed some unbelievable contortion of her left arm to tug the
zipper at her spine down. She undid her bra’s clasp while she was back there, and
freed her heavy breasts from their unfortunate bindings.
Wolf or not, he wanted to pounce on her like a fucking cat and lick her hard
nipples and the scar from his bite. He wanted to suck purple marks onto her skin
there. Like leaving a graffiti tag, he wanted to show where he’d been, but also enjoy
himself to the fullest while he was still there.
“Show me!” she said forcefully, verbally nudging him from his semi-paralyzed
state. “Let me see how hard I make you, Darius.”
Gods. He yanked off his shirt and shoved his pants down to his knees. His aching
cock jutted straight as an arrow in front of him, and seemed to bob from her intense
inspection.
“Put that in me, and kiss me while you fuck me, if you can manage it.”
“That’s easy.” He kicked the pants to the floor, and yanked her dress the rest of the
way off. Kneeling between her legs, he palmed her breasts and groaned. “Fuck,
woman.”
“Tell me what you’re thinking when you look at me like that.”
“That—that you look like something out of a pin-up girl book.”
“You think I look like a pin-up girl?” That flirty grin of hers made his heart thrash.
It hinted that perhaps he’d said something right. “That’s a huge compliment.”
“You deserve it.” He reluctantly unhanded her and hitched her legs up to his hips.
He lie atop her, his cock positioned at her entrance, and licked the seam of her lips so
she’d open for him. “I don’t know how I got so lucky.”
“At first, I thought I repulsed you. I thought—”
“No, no, no. Gods, no.” He plunged into her and roared at the intense pleasure. He
was ready to come just from the triumph of being inside her. No one was as lucky as
him.
“Kiss me, baby.”
“Show me how. Like you did before.”
“Gladly.” She set the pace, and he matched it down below. He thrust slowly at
first, to let her channel adjust to his shaft, and then picked up speed.
He ate every one of her little moans and did everything he could to help her make
more of them. She seemed to like when he rocked his hips, so he did more of that. She
growled when he ground deep inside her, so he repeated that, too. And when she
repeated “Darius! Darius! Darius!” he thrust faster and faster to push her to that ledge
he so desperately needed her to fall over soon.
“Come on.” She clamped her thighs harder against him and tipped back her head.
Through clenched teeth, she growled, “Give it to me. Every drop. Make me scream
when you come. I want to feel your cock jerking inside me.”
He’d give her anything, and that was certainly easy enough.
“Fuck. Fuck.” His claws extended, and he punctured the mattress as his cock
expended his load. She shuddered beneath him. Her eyes rolled back into her head
and she panted wordlessly, seeming unable to catch her breath. Her pussy clamped
around his cock repeatedly as she found her orgasm, squeezing every bit of ejaculate
from him and practically holding him captive—not that he minded. He’d stay inside
her forever if he could. He liked her saying his name—liked the attention she paid
him. It made the lone wolf want to heel for her and do her bidding.
He wanted her in his space—his inner sanctum. Just her, and no one else.
 CHAPTER EIGHT

After a couple of weeks of learning the nuances of Darius’s silence and his energy,
Stephanie worried that she was letting her wolf fall into a pattern of complacency.
When they were at home together, learning each other’s bodies and her being warmed
by the sound of his voice, she didn’t think about the outside. She didn’t care about
how he functioned in the greater world, because when they were in bed or on the sofa
with the television on, nothing out there mattered. They lived two separate lives,
though. Joined at the hip when they were together, but when Stephanie was out
without him, she craved interaction and socialization. She worried she should have
been trying harder to fold him into that part of her world.
She needed a reality check, and so she’d appealed to fellow mate Christina to get
one.
Christina worked at the executive mansion, and probably saw more of the pack as
they worked than even Mrs. Carbone, who also worked in there, in the kitchen.
They sat on the window seat of the library Christina worked out of and looked out
onto the grounds. The wolves had hired some contract security guards for Norseton,
and were training them out in the courtyard. Alpha was always around for that, but the
other wolves rotated in and out, depending on what the day’s lesson was. Darius was
an expert marksman, which was why he was on hand at the moment. He didn’t seem
to be enjoying his teacher role much, though, judging by the tight set of his lips and
the persistent grinding of his teeth.
“He’s like Anton in a lot of ways,” Christina said, referring to her husband.
“But Anton is reclusive because of his scars, not because he’s trying to avoid
people. He’ll put on his patch and go out with the others if he’s asked to.”
Christina made a waffling gesture. “He’d rather stay home. He’s always got so
much to do, and I think the perception that he’s falling behind on anything makes him
anxious. But, you’re right, he doesn’t have a problem interacting with people. He just
hates most of them.”
Stephanie stifled her laugh. “I don’t think Darius hates people. I think…I think
he’s afraid of them.” It pained her to admit it. He was her man, and she adored him,
but the way social interactions crippled him broke her heart. She couldn’t even
pretend to understand what he felt. She’d always been outgoing.
“That’s the wolf in him,” Christina said. “Probably has a lot to do with how he
was brought up. I bet he spent more time in his animal form than his boy form.”
“He did.” Another thing that had broken her heart. When he was expelled from his
birthpack, he’d had no choice but to take the shape he was stronger in as he traveled.
“Damn, I just wish I could go back and undo some things.”
“Why?” Christina furrowed her forehead. “To make him normal? Or what you
think is normal?”
“To make it easier for him. When he’s afraid, my wolf gets afraid, too. She doesn’t
understand what’s wrong, and I don’t know how to fix that. There weren’t any wolves
like him in my father’s pack. I don’t understand the personality type.”
“I can’t say I know what that means, either. Anton won’t bite me, so my inner
wolf’s not fully awake. But I do know that Anton isn’t the kind of man who’d want
pity for the things that he considers to be flaws. He thinks they’re his lot in life, and
he compensates accordingly. I do the same thing when it comes to him. I treat him the
way he needs to be treated, and that may change from one day to the next. Our mates
will keep us on our toes, for sure.”
Stephanie grunted in agreement.
“What is it you think Darius needs?”
“I don’t know, really. I guess my instinct is to force him to be more social, but not
only does he not have the training for it, I wonder if he’s just not equipped for it. His
first pack kicked him out because he had the makings of an alpha, but what if he was
designed to be a lone wolf all along?”
“I think he was,” Christina said softly.
“But what does that mean for a pack structure? What would newcomers think?”
“There are few rules in this pack, so why does it have to mean anything at all?”
“Huh.” Stephanie leaned back against the window and stared unseeing at a
bookcase across the room. “Why does it? He just needs to pull his weight, right?”
“Yes. And there are a lot of ways he can do that. The greater concern is what kind
of father he’d make.”
“I don’t have worries about that.” A man who cuddled the way Christina’s wolf
did probably wouldn’t have any problems holding a baby. In fact, she looked forward
to seeing him with one of theirs. Just by being present, he would already be a far
better father than hers was. But, if their children wanted to have friends over, then
what? Would he get stressed and flee? Would people talk?
 She didn’t care if they talked. She was used to people talking about her, but she
did worry about him.
“I’m afraid of what’ll happen as the pack gets larger,” Stephanie said softly. “He’s
familiar with it, the way it is, and has worked with the guys for a long time.”
“I worry about that, too. None of our men are especially adept at being in a
general population. When there are more personalities in the mix, will the dynamics
change, or will the men simply adjust?”
“We’re good at adjusting. We came here and…” Stephanie let the words trail off
as she realized the gravity of them. The mates had all gone to Norseton to try to find
suitable wolves. They were suitable for a reason—matches made by their alpha and
their goddess. Stephanie’s ability to read Darius’s energy was a mystery Alpha
couldn’t explain, beyond saying that an alpha wolf’s mate gave him what he needed.
The “vice versa” didn’t need to be said. It was obvious. Even a woman like Stephanie
wanted to feel like she fit with someone, and she did.
“They have us to help them adjust. And if they don’t, then we’ll buffer them from
the world. We’ll become their emissaries.”
Christina’s smile was dreamy. “I think that would make Anton happy.”
“I’m pretty sure it’ll make my wolf happy, too.”
___
Alpha was at the Norseton gate screening vehicles, and Stephanie let herself into
the security shack, bearing one of his wife’s special submarine sandwiches. A
shameless ploy, but she didn’t care. When her mother had put her in that car her father
had sent to deliver Stephanie to him and his pack, one of the last things her mother
had said was, “Don’t be ashamed to appeal to people’s basest natures if it means
doing so will get what you need. That’s the only reason I was able to keep you with
me this long. Remember that.”
Stephanie had forgotten it, along with so many other important lessons, but she
was going to put that wisdom to use now.
Alpha pushed up one bushy eyebrow then lifted the gate for a delivery truck.
“Long walk all the way up here.”
“I took one of the golf carts.”
“Ah. Smart. Just to bring me a sandwich? Let me guess.” He lowered the gate and
leaned in the open doorway. “Someone in the pack needs maiming, and you want me
to do it. Is it Colt?”
She sighed, and then laughed. “No. I do need a favor, but nothing like that. Lisa
can deal with Colt.”
 “That’s what my gut says, anyway. What kind of favor? The last time someone
asked me for a favor, I wasn’t so inclined to grant it. Some wolves don’t know what
the best thing for them is.”
She furrowed her brow.
He waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t mind me. What do you need? Before you tell
me, give me the sandwich. I could eat a brick, I’m so hungry.”
Laughing, she handed it over. “I don’t know much about what you and the pack
did before you settled here at Norseton, and I’m not really sure I want to know. Darius
doesn’t discuss it at all, but I know your team works well together, and that’s
something that shouldn’t be discounted.”
Adam took a big bite of sandwich and nodded.
“I’m not suggesting he stop doing what he does, but…I wonder if…”
“You’ve got the worst hearing of any wolf I’ve ever known,” Darius said softly
behind her.
She cringed. Turning, she found his expression to be a contrived blank, and he
pulled his energy in close to his body the same way he always did when he was angry.
Shit. Is he angry? Her wolf was never really angry for long—at least not with her
—but she didn’t want to think she’d hurt his feelings. She was in a unique position to
do so, and knew it.
“You’re the quietest wolf in the pack,” Alpha said to him. “You can’t really fault
her for not hearing you.”
Darius flitted his gaze to Alpha, but said nothing. He didn’t need to. He might
have tried to tamp it down, but his discomfort radiated off him like heat off a radiator.
“Now she isn’t going to ask for whatever she came here for. You couldn’t have
waited five minutes? You’re early for your shift.” Alpha took another large bite and
stepped out to hail an oncoming vehicle.
Darius crossed his arms over his chest and ground his teeth.
“I’m not trying to get you in trouble. I just want to help,” she said.
“Help what?”
“Help get you what you need, since you won’t ask for it.”
“What is it that you think I need?”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Are you going to act like I haven’t spent the past
couple of weeks learning your ins and outs? I may not know everything that has made
you the way you are, but I know who you are. By now, you should damn well know
who I am, and what I’m capable of.”
 Alpha stepped back in and carefully wrapped his sandwich. “Catch me on the
walkie-talkie if you need anything. I’m gonna go see if I can take my lady for a
stroll.”
Darius said nothing. He just watched Alpha leave, and then sat on the low black
stool in front of the security video monitors. He adjusted the view on one for a wider
image of the westbound road.
She drummed her fingers on the sides of her arms. “I can tell the difference
between good silence and bad silence. This is bad silence. You need to talk to me.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“Anything at all is better than nothing. I know I’m enabling you. I think you’re
less social now than you were before you took me as a mate.”
He straightened his spine, and the electric tension in the room raised the hairs on
the back of her neck. She needed to calm her wolf. It was a job only she was equipped
to do, and that was why she was his mate—why the goddess had chosen her for him.
The goddess had equipped Stephanie with the tools to help him. Stephanie couldn’t
read any other wolf the way she did her mate, and she knew that wasn’t coincidence.
“And don’t you think I’ve figured out that’s what you need?” She moved slowly
across the small room and set her hands gently on his shoulders. She brushed her
thumbs along the sides of his neck and hooked her chin over his shoulder. “I know in
packs that perception is just as important as reality. I would never do anything to
compromise your standing with your peers. I would never shame you.”
Her father had always said she’d end up being some wolf’s shame, and for a
while, she’d believed it. In fact, she’d arrived in Norseton believing it. Her baggage
had made her forget all the important lessons that art had taught her about layers and
expression. About holding her judgment until she’d had time to think.
She skimmed her lips across his stubbled cheek and kissed his jaw.
That alpha energy flared around him, snapping and coiling, but it was less hot
now. Less stifling. But he wasn’t the kind of alpha wolf who’d pick a fight. He was
the kind who would walk away if he got angry. She didn’t want him to walk away
from her in either of his forms.
“I just want to make sure you’re happy,” she said.
“I will be if you don’t run out of patience with me.”
She slipped her hands under his shirt and slid them up his chest. Skin-to-skin
contact made talking so much easier. She always knew she was on the right track by
the way his muscles relaxed and his breathing slowed.
“Remember, I need you as much as you need me,” she whispered.
 “You don’t need me. You’d be okay without me. You’d probably be better off with
some human guy who wears a suit to work.”
“I needed a wolf, and I like the one I have. No human guy in a suit would let me
make Sharpie doodles on his chest whenever I want.” She nudged up his shirt and
took a peek at his pecs. Her black ink drawing of a cross-eyed wolf was still there,
though somewhat faded. She giggled at the memory of him trying to scrub it off in the
shower with her purple bath pouf. She made them increasingly silly just to see those
precious expressions he made when he looked in the mirror at them.
He looked up from his chest and met her gaze. She knew how hard that was for
him, so she rewarded him with a kiss on his chin. Weeks ago, she would have never
guessed she’d find pleasure in such a chaste act, but she hadn’t known there were
wolves like Darius then, either.
“I don’t think I told you. I…I like the ones you do with a bunch of colors. Takes
you longer.”
She let his shirt fall back into place and stuffed her hands into the back pockets of
his jeans. “You could just ask me to not scurry away so soon when I’m done.”
“Like I said, I don’t want you to run out of patience with me.”
“Gods, Darius, don’t worry about that.”
“Can you blame me?”
She cringed. No, she really couldn’t blame him. She hoped to quickly disabuse
him of the notion that she couldn’t be asked for simple favors, though. His happiness
was contagious, so it was in her best interest to make him practice that smile.
“What did you want from Alpha?”
“Just reassurance.”
“About what?”
“That this pack is what we both need. Before I came here, I had dreams that it
might be. The pack is growing. There are no molds for us here, and I think we have to
carve out our places while we have a chance.”
“What did you have in mind?” The last nervous tendrils of his energy dissipated,
and she finally let herself take a deep breath.
“We’ll figure it out together. You don’t have to worry about it, because we’re
going to help each other. You’re going to teach me how to be a wolf, and I’m going to
keep all of the noise and chaos away from you. That’ll be my job, just like teaching
art at the school next semester. How about that?”
He flashed Stephanie one of those bashful grins and pulled her onto his lap. “So
you’re okay with me letting you do all the talking?”
“As long as you’re not hiding from me.”
“I’d never hide from you. Not me or my wolf. You make me feel safe.”
“Me?”
“Mm-hmm. You feel like home. I haven’t had that in a very long time. I’d be
stupid to hide from that.”
“You’re definitely not stupid.”
“I don’t know about that. I know I’m lucky, though. I don’t know what I did to
deserve you.”
“Probably about as much as I did to deserve you. Since I’m here, why don’t you
pull up your homework? I’ll watch the monitors, and you can fix your sentences.”
“Okay.” He switched one of the screens to a browser display and navigated to his
online documents. “I figured out what kind of degree I want to get.”
“What?” She squinted at moving speck on one of the screens. It turned out to just
be a cat walking past the mansion steps. Cute little thing.
We should get a cat. Something to tangle up Darius’s feet when he walked and
make him swear in that hilarious way he did. He was so oddly eloquent in that one
way.
She laughed even thinking it, then kissed his furrowed brow. He probably thought
she was nuts, which was a little true, if she was being honest.
“Uh. Computer science. The pack needs to use technology more efficiently in our
jobs. I think I can help with that.”
And he would probably have less face time with the public. A perfect solution.
“Just need to run it past Alpha.”
“He’ll say yes,” she said confidently.
“How do you know?”
“I brought him lunch. He owes me a favor.” She winked, and he blushed like a
teenaged boy. A shy, gentle, lone wolf.
Her lone wolf.
He didn’t need changing, and neither did she.
 IDLER
Lisa Modesto needs an ambitious, proactive mate to help her navigate Pack drama.
With her younger sisters being on the fast track to matrimony with a couple of
indolent werewolves from her old Pack, she has to get them out, and soon. She
accepts a random pairing with a male from an unknown pack, hoping to find a
potential safe haven for her sisters, only to get matched with an idle wolf who has a
full moon-sized chip on his shoulder.

Wolf-for-hire Colt Baylor is used to doing the bare minimum to get by. He’s
convinced the stability the Norseton Wolfpack has experienced in the past half year is
short-lived, and he doesn’t want to put his heart into impermanent things. He learned
that lesson all too well as a teen, but his reluctant new mate would have him revisit it.

Lisa is convinced that her born-alpha mate has the potential to solve big problems, but
not without incentive. He’s a wolf with a troubled past, and if she pushes too hard,
she’ll lose his trust. She can’t afford that. Colt may not only be the ticket to a better
life for her sisters, but possibly the closest thing to a perfect mate a domineering Type
A personality like her will ever find.
 CHAPTER ONE

I could end up with a sorrier wolf than the one I got paired with last time.
Lisa Modesto shuddered at the idea, and groaned quietly. She couldn’t believe the
thought hadn’t surfaced before, but she’d been too busy to pee, much less think.
The lady sitting next to her on the crowded bench bumped Lisa’s knee with her
own.
“Sorry,” Lisa whispered. “Just reminiscing.”
Their new pack’s alpha, Adam Carbone, paused his inspection of the four women
on the courtyard bench and accepted a cordless phone from his wife. He furrowed his
brow as he accepted it. “Is it important?”
Mrs. Carbone sighed and flicked a dismissive hand in his direction. “What do you
think? You think I can’t tell what’s important after almost forty years of marriage?
Give me some credit, you doofus,” she called over her shoulder before walking away.
Alpha blew a raspberry, pressed the phone to his ear, and put a little distance
between him and the women on the bench. “Carbone,” he said into the receiver.
Lisa couldn’t help but to smile. It was so rare to see werewolf couples in
relationships that looked anything close to normal. Her parents tried to set a good
example, but they were far from an alpha couple. They were amongst the most
submissive in her old pack, so they could get away with being kind to each other. No
one paid them any attention until it was time for them to pony up their dues.
“Been here before?” the woman to Lisa’s right whispered.
“Well, this ain’t my first rodeo. Let’s put it that way.”
“You’ve taken a mate before?”
Lisa cringed. “Uh, no, I just came very close to taking one.”
And that was why she’d decided that she had to be out of her freakin’ mind. Like,
for real, straight up riding the crazy train. If she weren’t, she wouldn’t be sharing a
bench with a group of hopeful single women, and participating in the second mate call
of her life. After all, the first one she’d responded to four years ago had gone so
wonderfully that she’d grabbed her luggage and went home before her would-be mate
had given her his bite. No one did that. It was the werewolf equivalent of a bride
deciding to call off a wedding, right after she’d marched up the aisle. Lisa had taken
one tiny whiff of the asshole she’d been paired with, caught the stench of weed on his
breath and clothes, and hit the road. Wolf women were used to getting the short end of
the stick—they held no power in their packs—but Lisa knew if she stayed, there
would have been bloodshed, and she hadn’t wanted to shame her family that way.
They already got enough bullshit from their alpha as it was.
After that disappointing ordeal, she didn’t expect to have another chance to answer
a mate call—or even thought she wanted to answer one. Back then, she hadn’t been
desperate. Now she was. She had little sisters to think of, and if it weren’t for them,
she’d have stayed at home and toed the line. She’d made herself so undesirable in her
pack that the men mostly left her alone, but her sisters… Well, they were sweet. They
didn’t have Lisa’s bite, so they’d end up being the brides of some sorry excuses for
wolves as soon as they turned eighteen, and their parents wouldn’t be able to fight it.
Lisa could, though. Not with teeth and claws, but with cunning. She couldn’t spirit
them away, but if she played her cards right, she could transfer them out of the pack.
Answering the mate call was Lisa’s last chance to put the ball in motion before it was
too late.
The woman gave Lisa another nudge of the knee. Lisa didn’t even know her name,
but she wouldn’t beat herself up about it. She hadn’t learned any of the women’s
names last time, either.
She forced a swallow down her parched throat and guessed that the lack of
humidity in New Mexico was already wreaking havoc on her body. “It wasn’t here,”
she said.
Alpha, about five yards up the path, held the phone clamped between his shoulder
and ear and patted his pockets. He pulled out a switchblade and slung it open.
The four women on the bench gasped in unison.
Alpha looked at them, pushed up one bushy eyebrow as if they’d all lost their
marbles, and quickly cut the tag out of his T-shirt’s neck before resuming his
conversation.
The women relaxed.
Jeez.
Wolf men with weapons didn’t generally evoke thoughts of comfort for Lisa.
Judging by the women’s synchronized reaction, that was apparently a trend across
many packs.
“Where was it?” the woman whispered when Alpha turned his back.
 He took a few paces toward the desert and the sun sinking into the horizon.
Lisa gave her chin a contemplative rub. He was an odd man, her new alpha. Most
didn’t like to be interrupted, but from the time he’d collected the four women from the
airport, he’d been as calm and cool as a priest.
“It was a pack up in Maine,” she said softly. “Some real dipshits up there, let me
tell you.”
“Ugh, I know about them. Interacted with them a lot during pack conferences. I’m
from New Jersey.”
“Ah. A neighbor, then.” Lisa held out her hand. “I’m from Delaware. Nice to meet
you, I’m Lisa.”
“Ashley.”
“Long way from home, huh?” Lisa jammed her hands into her sweatshirt pockets
and stared at the mountain range across the expanse of desert.
“Yep.”
The desert, of all freakin’ places. There was rarely enough information to guess
where a pack issuing a mate call was located, but her imagination had gone to
woodsy, green places, or semi-rural exurbs like where she’d grown up—not stark, arid
terrain, rife with cacti and armadillos.
“I have a friend in a pack up in Colorado, though,” Ashley said. “Maybe this’ll
make it easier for me to see her.”
“Mated into that pack?”
“Yeah. Jersey girl, just like me. I waited as long as I could for her to tell me her
pack was putting out another mate call, but I…couldn’t wait any longer.”
Huh.
Given the wistful tone of Ashley’s voice, Lisa suspected that Ashley might have
been operating on a deadline of sorts, too.
“How long have you been waiting?” Lisa asked.
“A couple of years.”
Lisa whistled low. “I guess you weren’t in a hurry.”
Ashley’s cheek twitched. “Not until recently.”
“Yeah, I know the feeling.”
Lisa could tell when Alpha was back in proximity without looking up because the
hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, and her gut went flip-flop. The guy had to
be a born alpha. His energy was unmistakable. She’d only ever encountered the
breathtaking surge a couple of times, and neither time had been with her old pack’s
alpha.
Instinctively, Lisa stood, as did the other three women on the bench with her.
“Ah, sit,” Alpha said. “You’ll get over the compulsion to stand soon enough, just
like my wife.” He chuckled.
They sat.
Alpha rubbed his palms together and eyed each woman yet again. He paced in
front of them, scratching his chin and looking over their heads to where Lisa was
almost certain the waiting bachelors were standing. The other women turned to look,
but Lisa didn’t want to kill the suspense just yet. She’d turned to look during her last
matching, and the sense of disappointment had seeped deeper and deeper with each
step he took. By the time her potential mate had made it to the tree where the ladies
were waiting, Lisa had already thought up five reasons to say no. The weed stench
had just pushed her over the edge.
Alpha waved over one wolf, who walked away with the half-wolf redhead beside
her, and then another, who took Ashley away.
The quivering leaf of a lady at the far end of the bench had her head down and
eyes closed, as if she needed to pray her way through the ordeal. Lisa wanted to
squeeze her shoulder and say, “Hey, it’s okay,” but she’d never been a liar. She didn’t
know what that little woman was going to get stuck with. For that matter, she could
only hope Alpha knew what the fuck he was doing. Supposedly, a good alpha could
feel the right mate match in his bones, or something. Lisa hoped his bones were extra
wise, and that Alpha was honorable enough to actually listen to them.
“All right. This’ll be interesting, I think.” Alpha waved someone over and pointed
to Lisa.
Oh, shit. She didn’t like that word—interesting.
Interesting got people into trouble.
Lisa stood again, this time turning to watch the man approach. She let out an
involuntary grunt of appreciation.
He was tall, broad, smiling like the cat that got the cream, and blond.
She canted her head and squinted. “I don’t think I’ve ever been with a blond. Not
common in werewolves, I guess.”
“Common enough where he was from, but don’t worry,” Alpha said with a
chuckle. “As far as I know, he’s not too terribly inbred.”
“Alpha,” she scolded, and then realized what she’d done. She slapped her
forehead. “Shit, did I say that out loud? I’m so sorry.” In most packs, speaking out of
turn to the alpha was a surefire way to earn a mauling, but something about the energy
of her new home loosened her tongue, for better or worse.
“Eh, don’t worry about it. My wife doesn’t like my jokes, either.” He shrugged,
nonplussed.
Jeez. She let out a breath. Rein it in, girl.
“Lisa, meet Colt Baylor. Colt, meet Lisa.”
The blond wolf named Colt took her hand and kissed her knuckles.
“Charming. Off to the right start, I see,” she said.
“Of course. And you know what they say about blonds, right?”
“What’s that?”
He wriggled his eyebrows, and his dark blue eyes twinkled with mischief. “That
we have so much more fun.”
“You’re going to be trouble, aren’t you?”
“Probably.”
Alpha let out a long breath and massaged his temples. “I wish he were lying. Take
her to my house and get her bags, Colt. I hope you cleaned up.”
“Sure, sure.” Colt grinned one of those politician smiles that were all teeth and no
truth.
Oh, god. He was too blithe, too glib. She’d bet half a brick of gold that whichever
of those adobe houses he lived in smelled like a frat house, and probably had sneakers
and titty mags scattered all about.
Oh well. She’d suck it up and deal with it. As long as he was trying to do
something with his life, she wouldn’t complain. All things considered, she had it
pretty good. He was attractive—in a Wheaties box athlete kind of way—and seemed
to have a pretty hot body beneath that long-sleeved black tee and faded jeans. He’d
probably have no problem bench-pressing his own weight. The last guy she’d been
paired up with…
Ugh.
She suppressed a groan and gestured for Colt to lead the way.
“Good luck,” she whispered to the last lady on the bench as she passed, but the
woman didn’t look up. The poor thing was still praying.
Colt walked into the nearest house, and called through the screen door, “What do
your bags look like?”
“One is bright blue, one has purple flowers, and there’s a laptop bag that has the
monogram LLM on it.”
That was everything she owned, in three bags. For the second time in her life,
she’d pared down to just the basics so she could travel light, and she hoped she would
never have to live so austerely ever again.
He carried it all out and tilted his head toward the house in the opposite corner of
the courtyard. There were five identical houses there, and there seemed to be a few
more lots marked off for future expansion, as well. That was good. That meant the
pack was looking to grow, and that there’d be space for others. They weren’t so
insular and set in their ways yet. Dynamic packs were healthy packs. She wouldn’t
bring her sisters to a place where there wasn’t the potential for them to thrive. She
wanted more for them than the bare minimum. They deserved kindness and human
decency, even if they weren’t quite human.
“I’m counting on you to impress me,” she said to her wolf.
“Oh, yeah?” He chuckled and passed her laptop bag over to her before setting off
down the stone path. “You mean my superior good looks and large hands and feet
don’t do it for you?”
“I need a little more than that.”
“Oh, I doubt you could take half of what I’ve got.”
“I hope you’ve got some ambition to go along with that slick mouth of yours.”
“I’m plenty ambitious. I’ve already gotten half of my to-do list for the day
accomplished.”
“I’m not so easy to impress. How many items were on the list?”
“Just two. You think you’re smart, huh?”
“I know I am.” Gambling on mate calls aside, anyway. “What was the first item
on your list for today?”
He propped open the screen door and turned the inner door’s knob. “Pick up a
chick. That was a pretty big item.”
She rolled her eyes at his back. Oh, God. “What’s the item yet to be marked off?”
She figured she might as well ask, although she already had her suspicions.
“It actually has two parts.” He opened the door and pulled in her bags.
She stepped into the cool, airy living room, took one look around, and stepped
back outside with a bark of laughter. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
“Hey, it’s not the Taj Mahal, but it’s home.”
“I wouldn’t care if it was a tent if it were well taken care of. Is that your idea of
cleaning?”
 It was worse than a frat house. It was half Hoarders episode and half horror movie
creepy. It looked as if a tornado had ripped through his house and deposited every
scrap of roadside trash within a ten-mile radius into his living room. At least it didn’t
smell, though.
“It is clean, from a hygienic perspective,” he said. “Just not de-cluttered. I’m
going to clean up for real.”
She got the sneaking suspicion that was a promise he’d made before and often, but
she kept her mouth shut and crossed her arms over her chest.
“Don’t give me that look,” he said. “It’s the same one Mrs. Carbone gives me.
Shit, everyone’s a skeptic. I will do it. It’s not a big fuckin’ deal. Just step around the
mess, princess. It won’t burn you to get close. But if it bothers you so much, feel free
to tidy up.”
She hitched her bag up higher on her shoulder. “Excuse me?” She thought maybe
she hadn’t heard him right, or that perhaps he would realize what a stupid thing he’d
said and recant it.
“You’re going to be home all day, so you might as well get started now.”
“Oh. Okay. Ha! Well, then.” She turned on her heel and hauled ass back to the
bench, where Alpha remained with that praying chick.
Unbe-fucking-lievable. I’d have no luck at all if it weren’t for bad luck.
“What’s wrong?” Alpha asked when Lisa dropped her bag on the bench.
She cut the air with a slash of her hand and shook her head. “I’m sorry. I can’t. I
know beggars can’t be choosers when they answer mate calls, but I’d rather repay you
for my travel expenses and fly myself home than play house with a mate who thinks
he’s getting a wolf maid out of the deal. Fuck that.”
She clapped her hand over her mouth. Shit. Apparently, her filter had completely
unhinged during travel to New Mexico.
Alpha stuffed his hands into the pockets of his cargo pants and rocked back on his
boot heels. She expected there to be an energy flare—a punishing squeeze meant to
put her in her place, but he kept his power in check. In fact, it didn’t seem to fluctuate
at all.
He pushed up one bushy eyebrow. “You don’t trust me?”
“Look, I don’t mean to be tart. I know how to behave, even when I think the rules
are stupid. Wolves have to toe the line, and usually I’m pretty good at it. You gotta
understand this isn’t my first time answering a call, and after the last one, I promised
myself I wouldn’t do this again. But then I did do it again, because I was out of
options.”
 Alpha’s other eyebrow went up.
“I guess what I’m saying is—”
“You’re saying you don’t think it’s a good match.”
She turned her hands over, conceding. “I hate to get off on the wrong foot, but I
gotta be true to me. I don’t have it in my spirit to endure misery for the sake of
tradition. My compulsion is to buck against tradition if it doesn’t make sense. I know
that makes me a little defective as a wolf, and a lot pain-in-the-ass, but I’m not going
to apologize for that.”
He stared at her quietly for a while—a whole minute, maybe—and rocked on his
heels again. It was such a casual, playful movement for such a powerful wolf. She
couldn’t really wrap her mind around it. Then again, she couldn’t wrap her mind
around much about the place she found herself in.
“Between you and me,” he said finally, “all you girls are a little weird.”
“What?”
He crooked his thumb toward the silent woman on the bench. “It’s like she’s not
even there, huh? Truth is, I would have been more surprised if I had fetched four
completely ordinary mate prospects from the airport.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “I don’t have ordinary wolves in my pack. Why would the goddess
send me women who couldn’t keep up?”
“You believe the goddess made this match?” She turned and pointed to the blond
wolf leaning into his house’s doorway, whom promptly raised a middle finger in
salute.
Fucking asshole. He could probably hear every word they said, and she didn’t give
a single shit.
She turned back. “No disrespect intended, Alpha, but are you insane?”
“Only in the best ways. Listen,” he said gently, “I’m not going to force you to stay.
But of the four matches I made today, the goddess picked two, and I picked the others.
She happened to approve of them.”
“The goddess did? You can’t possibly claim that. She’s not so forthcoming, even if
we hope she has a hand in guiding us.”
“Doesn’t she, though?” His voice was a whisper now. “You know our lore speaks
of how fond she is of her signs. Did she send you one before you came? Maybe she
put a wolf image on some unusual place, like a doodle on a dollar bill. You recall
anything like that?”
 Lisa’s stomach lurched. Not a dollar bill, but a travel agency ad she’d seen in the
newspaper the day she saw the mate call. There’d been a yellow wolf in the logo. She
forced down a swallow and put a hand over her thrashing heart. “Just a coincidence.”
“I don’t think so. Hey, I try to be a decent person. That’s usually good enough for
her, so she talks to me sometimes. No one’s expecting you to submit meekly here,
Lisa. No one here expects you to anything more than to give respect to the people
who are owed it.”
That would be Alpha and Mrs. Carbone. The rest—her mate—would have to earn
it. She was pretty sure that was what Alpha was saying.
“Run your household as you see fit. I strongly suggest you stay and examine what
you have. There’s always room for change.”
“Change.” The word was like candy in her mouth—a luxury she was so rarely
afforded. “You’d let me do that? Make changes?”
“I wouldn’t have brought you here if I weren’t open to them.”
“Fuck.” She’d held out a glimmer of hope that her mate would be if not easy to
live with, then at least cooperative. He was going to push her past her tolerance, and
she was going to be mad at herself for letting the domineering battle-ax out. She was
volunteering for the sakes of her sisters, and she needed to be kind. She needed to
make Alpha her advocate.
Good luck, bitch.
She let out a long, ragged breath. “At least he doesn’t smell like he’s been rolling
in pot,” she said dryly. “That’s a start.”
“And he’s gainfully employed. I hear ladies love that.”
She groaned and rubbed her eyes. Shit.
She trusted Alpha—believed his connection to their goddess was legitimate—but
that didn’t make accepting the man assigned to be her mate any easier. First
impressions meant something to her, and he couldn’t have blown his more if he’d
tried.
Still, she needed to commit, not only for her sisters, but to prove to the goddess
that she could listen, even when doing so was hard.
Lisa scooped up her laptop bag and hugged it against her chest. She swallowed.
“All right. I’m going to go get my bite, Alpha.”
“Thatta girl!” He gave her shoulders a little squeeze, and a trickle of energy
skipped over her flesh. It felt like tickling fingers, and made her laugh out loud.
She thought it was an odd use of his power, to make her laugh. But, he is such an
odd alpha.
He laughed along with her. “I’m not saying you don’t have your work cut out for
you, Lisa, only that you’re the woman best equipped to do it. It may not seem like it
right now, but you made the trip for Colt. You’re his match.”
“That’s what scares me.”
 CHAPTER TWO

“I knew this was a bad fuckin’ idea.” Colt tore the remnants of the previous night’s
pizza crust into tiny morsels, and flicked them one by one toward the garbage
disposal.
He scoffed to himself. “We should have learned our lesson back in the garden,
with Eve. How dare that woman show up and start slinging insults before she’d even
had the chance to crack open her fuckin’ suitcase? Shouldn’t have gotten my hopes
up.”
He’d tried not to, but then it all became so real when Alpha had let the women out
of the van, and immediately Colt’s gaze had locked on the ball-buster. Maybe it was
her dark, sexy eyes, or the way her full lips tipped up at the corners. Or maybe it was
because his inner wolf knew before he did that he was doomed, and his downfall was
coming at the hands of that particular nag.
He rolled his eyes and stared at the empty doorway.
A couple of months before the women’s arrival, he’d scoffed when Alpha had
called a meeting and broached the subject of the mate call. “It’s time,” he’d said. “You
assholes aren’t getting any younger, and you don’t have an excuse anymore. Wolves
take mates when they have stable homes, and you need to do it before you start acting
like the animals you are.”
They’d all groaned, but in the end, three out of four men had voted yes—Beast
being the only holdout, because the attack that had scratched up the guy’s face had
him kind of fucked up. Colt had voted yes, not because he was so desirous of
monogamy or having a werewolf ball and chain, but because Alpha was right. Alpha
wolves, which each man in the pack was in his own right, needed to take mates. Colt’s
own wolf was becoming harder to control. “You do it or I fucking will,” was the gist of
his impulses as of late. Conceding to the mate call was his way of getting ahead of his
wolf’s increasingly desperate tactics. He needed to get himself in check, or Alpha
would. The pack was the best thing to ever happen to him, and he didn’t want to fuck
that up.
As he glanced into the crumb pile-up in the sink, the screen door creaked open and
slammed shut, and Lisa stepped into the foyer, scanning the great room and finally
finding Colt leaning against the kitchen island.
Her gaze was direct and cold. That stereotype about Latina women being warm
swirled right down the drain, along with a few pizza crumbs. Apparently, her culture
manufactured ice princesses just as well as any other.
He gave her a little salute. “Shall I carry your bags back to Alpha’s, ma’am, or
will my home be sufficient for your immoderate needs?”
She narrowed her dark-as-night eyes and put her fists on the hips that her jeans
barely covered. The things must have been painted on. They dipped so low, he could
have probably seen the dawn of creation if she sneezed. Jeans like those wouldn’t
have been allowed at his first pack. They had “decency and modesty” standards. He
scoffed inwardly. What a joke. There had been nothing decent about that pack, and
modesty flew out the window the moment his father was ousted as alpha.
“I’m going to stay, and you can bite me,” she said, “but do not assume that means
your home—or you, for that matter—are sufficient for my oh-so-immoderate needs.”
She added, “Verga,” in a whisper, and strode into the adjacent room.
“Do I want to know what that means?”
“Use your imagination. It can’t be any worse than what you’re probably calling
me.”
“In that case, it’s pretty fuckin’ bad.”
She shrugged and scanned the room, as if taking full stock of the chaos.
It was just stuff he hadn’t had a chance to put away yet. The pack had arrived in
Norseton, and everything had moved so quickly. They’d followed a lead that the
queen of the clan of Viking descendants residing in Norseton had a hit out on her, and
given Alpha’s respect for the queen’s family, they’d showed up voluntarily to
neutralize the threat. Of course, Alpha had hoped to squeeze permanent jobs for them
out of the ordeal, because they were all so sick of the roaming. They’d been hired
pretty quickly, and their housing went up within a few weeks. He’d been in his house
going on five months now, but he didn’t think that was an unreasonable amount of
time to still have a bit of a mess.
It looked worse than it actually was. It was three, four hours of works tops.
Or perhaps eight or twelve.
“Jesus,” she whispered. She stood in front of a leaning tower of boxes in the
corner, pushing the middle one so the whole configuration was a bit more erect.
The best he could remember, they contained kitchen stuff Mrs. Carbone had
ordered for him. It wasn’t like he cooked, so there’d been no pressing need to unpack
them.
 Lisa turned, hands on hips, and took a deep breath.
Colt ground his teeth and made a Let’s have it gesture.
“I’m a bleeder, so let’s do this in the bathtub,” she said. “If you want to brush your
teeth beforehand, I won’t complain about you taking the time.”
He scoffed. Again. “Ooh la la. Should I get the lavender bath salts for you, or do
you prefer to stand while I service you, princess?”
She was on him in a flash, eyes narrowed and decadent lips pulled back to show
off straight, white teeth. “Excuse me? Have you forgotten I’m doing you a favor
here?”
Bitch. He leaned in and put his lips right next to her ear. “Some favor.”
She closed her fingers around his nuts and gave him a squeeze that took his breath
away.
“Shit!” He pushed onto tiptoes, trying to inch away from her grip.
“That usually works when I need to get a man’s attention.” Her voice was a quiet,
modulated purr that confused his stupid cock. Should I get hard now? it seemed to be
asking, oblivious to the pain in his nuts.
Or is it pain?
The longer she gripped him, the less sure he was. He spread his legs a bit to
relieve some of the pinch from his jeans, which made her adjust her grip. It wasn’t
tighter, just more complete, with her palm growing increasingly snug against his sac,
and her fingertips pressing against his perineum.
He drew in a bracing breath and curled his toes in his boots. He wouldn’t let her
see him out of control. He refused to respond the way she seemed to be driving him
to. Oddly enough, the wolf side of his brain didn’t seem to be demanding him to lash
out. The wolf was curious—wanted to see what she’d do next.
“I’m going to stand in the tub and bleed over the drain,” she said. “And if you call
me princess or any other such frivolous nonsense again, I’m going to put my fingers
in, on, or around things you’ll enjoy even less.” She thumped her fingers hard against
his perineum, and he hissed. “Are you playing up the dumb blond stereotype, or do
you actually understand me?” She gave his balls a little twist, and a defiant grin
curved on her full lips.
She’s getting off on this? He swallowed hard. Why is that so hot?
Maybe it was because she probably knew exactly what she was doing, and left
him no room to refuse. His inner wolf recognized that, and it seemed to make things
easier. But the human male part of him—the part of him that was just an asshole—
wouldn’t concede. “For fuck’s sake, I hear you.”
 “I didn’t ask if you heard me. I asked if you understood me.”
“I understand.”
“Good.” With that, she unhanded him.
“Turnabout is fair play, don’t you think?” He picked her up, hauled her to the sofa,
and put her over his knees. He pinned her wrists at the small of her back as she
squirmed atop his lap, and pressed his free palm to her ass, rubbing it. “I’ve never
been a fan of corporal punishment, but you seem to subscribe to it. I’ll happily play
along. Pants on or off? Your choice.”
“If you think you’ll be seeing my ass anytime soon except for me to shapeshift,
you’re out of your mind.” She squirmed ineffectually under his grip. He had her by at
least fifty pounds, so she wasn’t going anywhere unless he wanted her to. “Let go of
me, or so help me, I will have your balls ten shades of blue, and I won’t even have to
touch you to do it.”
He let go of her then, not because he believed her, but because she asked him to.
That seemed to surprise her. She took a couple of steps back and stared at him while
rubbing her wrists.
“If you want to come back, you’re welcome to.” He pointed to his lap.
“If there’s anyone here who needs to be spanked, it’s you.”
“You couldn’t hurt me if you tried, princess.”
Shut your fucking mouth, he thought, even as she advanced on him yet again and
gripped him hard.
He chuckled as her expression went from pissed, to confused, and then right back
to pissed again.
“You’re asking for it. You’re trying to play me, and I’m not falling for it. Where’s
the bathroom?”
“Well, damn. I like you getting personal with my junk. You’ve got the sweetest
little hands. That might hurt a little more once your wolf comes out for the first time,
but I doubt it.” He gestured toward the hallway. “Bathroom is down there. First door
on the right.”
She unhanded him with a scoff and started toward the hallway.
The chick was probably going to stress him into an early grave, but he was going
to have fun with her before he went down.
Is that what I’m doing? Having fun?
He stood and followed in her footsteps. He should have been angrier at how she’d
touched him, but instead, he’d felt a rush of anticipation. He wanted to know how far
she’d go to put him in his place. No woman had ever tried to control him before, so it
was natural that he’d be a little curious. That was all.
He found her in the bathtub, shirt and bra off, and tucking a towel into the
waistband of her jeans to catch the runoff, apparently.
“I don’t think this is going to be as messy as you’re making it out to be.”
“Yeah, because you’ve witnessed so many bites?”
“Enough to know.”
He leaned against the open doorframe and let his gaze track down her torso. She
was fit. Most wolves were, because of their fast metabolisms, but a few women
managed to put on a little extra weight in some very nice places. He’d noticed that
about her ass when he’d been so lovingly stroking it. No false padding there. All real.
If he’d been slightly more animal than he actually was, he might have stripped
down along with her to make her look at him. He wanted to be looked at, too, and
with something other than malice. He resisted, though. First things first—the lady
needed his bite to make her wolf come out. He’d have plenty of time to make her look
at him later—when they were truly mates, and no other wolf would want to touch her.
“I’ve seen a lot of these,” she said. “Where I’m from, the men in the pack bite
their mates in public, and maybe it’s just my particular variety of wolf, but we fucking
bleed.” She held the towel over her chest and pointed to the stretch of skin between
her collarbone and breast. “Come on.”
“Right down to it, huh? No foreplay? I could still get that bath salt, if you’d like.
And some candles. Maybe some oils? You know, so it’s special for you.”
“Don’t try to spoil me, wolf. You wouldn’t want me to get too comfortable here.”
Wolf. He forced out a breath and raked his hair back a little more aggressively than
was strictly necessary. That word…it was like some kind of trigger. “My name is
Colt, not wolf.”
“I know your name, just like you know that mine isn’t princess.”
She has a point.
Grunting, he straddled the tub’s side—one foot in, one foot out—and stretched the
bit of skin he’d be applying his mark to between his fingers.
He let down his fangs, licked her smooth, tan flesh in preparation, and set his teeth
into her in one quick motion.
She pounded his back with her fists. “Fuck, that hurts!”
“Mm-hmm.” He left his teeth where they were a little longer and pushed his
tongue against them, making very sure that his saliva completely contaminated his
bossy, would-be bride. No way she was going to be able to wash that out. She’d have
his scent—his essence—in her until the day she died. No other man could come
behind him and cover it, no matter how much he bit her. It was why a woman’s first
mate was usually her only mate. It was also why more and more women put off taking
mates for as long as their alphas didn’t force them to.
Try to get away now, bossy. He rimmed his tongue along the backs of his teeth
again and lashed at her salty flesh.
Mine now.
“Gods.” She thrust her breasts toward him and let out a long hiss as she pushed
her fingers through the back of his hair.
He’d heard there was no aphrodisiac quite as strong as receiving a mate’s bite, and
her fertile scent seemed to support that. He pressed his fingers against her belly and
inched his hand down into her waistband. If she were as wet as she smelled—fuck. He
could have been inside her already.
Why aren’t I inside her?
“I think that’s good enough,” she whispered.
Just like that, his hand stopped without any instruction from his brain, and he
loosened his bite. She was being his brain, apparently—telling him what to do, and he
just did it. Or maybe it was his inner wolf who was just doing it. Either way, it didn’t
matter. If his guess were any good, in a few minutes, she wouldn’t be able to resist
him. Her wolf was going to want to be let out, but before she could shift, she’d want
to be fucked. And he could fuck her so good, she’d never forget it.
Fuck. He was already hard. His cock strained against the front of his jeans,
painfully stiff.
He eased out of the tub and took a deep breath through his mouth, because her
scent was going to drive him insane. Maybe I’ll be the one begging.
Seemed likely, the more he thought of it.
“See?” She pointed to his bite. “Told you.”
Sure enough, she bled freely. The crimson streaks nearly saturated the white hand
towel she held over her breast.
He crossed his arms over his chest and grunted. It was a damn fine bite. “I do
good work.”
“Don’t let it go to your head. Any wolf can tear flesh. Get out.”
“What?” He ground his teeth and tried to suppress the growl rumbling up his
chest. “You don’t seem interested in anything besides my teeth at the moment, but I
assure you, I’m good at everything I set my mind to.”
“So am I. Get out. I’m going to shower.”
He didn’t know why he was goading her—why he had to have that last word—but
he leaned in and whispered, “Come on, princess. You can’t shower my scent off, if
that’s what you’re thinking. You’re stuck with it now.”
No, he knew exactly why he was goading her. It wasn’t Colt, but his wolf doing
the talking. The wolf wanted her to react.
She grabbed his hair again, yanking his head back. “You’re gonna want to watch
how much shit you talk, motherfucker. I’m not the kind of submissive wolf who’ll be
cowed by it.”
Good, his wolf thought. The mouthy man part of him said, “I’m sure I’ve fucked
someone’s mother before, though only once, and I didn’t learn her name.”
Touch me again.
She met his gaze for a long moment, and did just the opposite of what his inner
wolf wanted. She let go of Colt’s hair and pointed to the door. “I’ll be out of here in
five minutes. By the time I’m done, it’d be amazing if you got all those clothes
cleared off the sofa so that we can sit down and have an adult conversation about our
relationship.”
In five minutes, we’ll be fucking. A born alpha just bit you. He grinned.
“Sure thing. Anything else?”
“Perhaps put them away, if they’re clean.”
“They are.”
“So why are they on the sofa?”
“Why not? I think that’s the better question.”
“Do you own a dresser?”
“Two. I imagine you’ll be filling them with negligees and G-strings soon?”
He must have been grinning like an idiot, because she furrowed her brow and
pressed her lips into a tight line.
“I don’t exist for your pleasure, wolf.”
Wolf. His grin fell away. “My name is Colt. And no, no, of course you don’t. That
would be too much like submission, wouldn’t it? And you’re not even a little bit
submissive, are you, princess?”
She ground her teeth and sneered at him.
So damn sexy.
 “If that’s what you want, hold your breath for a while. I hear some people
hallucinate when they’re oxygen deprived. Maybe you’ll get exactly what you want in
psychosis.”
“What were you saying before about talking shit? You seem to do more of it than
anyone.”
“Because I can back it up with action, and I will, baby. Now get out.”
He did. He still wanted to have the last word, but his inner wolf got him moving.
He scooped his pile of jeans and T-shirts off the sofa and carried them to the
bedroom. Flinging all of it onto the bed, he scanned his inner sanctum and groaned. If
Lisa thought the living room was a disaster, she was likely going to chew his ass out
good for how the bedroom looked.
He thought it was comfortable—like a nest. When he stumbled into bed after a
late night after work, he didn’t care if he was surrounded by laundry, various unread
magazines, and who knew what else. In sleep, none of it bothered him. He suspected
she wouldn’t think that was a viable excuse. He’d probably have to clear it off.
Later, though. First things first.
He quickly wadded the laundry into random dresser drawers—it didn’t matter
where it went, because nothing was sorted, anyway—and turned off the light. He was
back in the living room straightening sofa cushions when the water in the bathroom
stopped running and the door clicked open.
Soft footsteps sounded down the hall, and his wolf-caliber hearing picked up
breathing—heavy breathing—and his nose was flooded with that scent…
Her scent, mingled with his, and…arousal.
She was so aroused.
Bingo.
He turned, letting his gaze track up from the wet feet that left puddles across his
tile floor to the long, leanly muscled legs that came together at the apex that her hand
now cupped and rubbed.
She was touching herself, and her breathing, well—he looked at her face and
found her lips parted and dark gaze intense—her breathing was ragged as hell.
He scanned downward to his bite and found satisfaction in its neatness, in spite of
the circumstances in which he’d given it. It’d stopped bleeding, so all that was left
was the perfect impression of his teeth and her tempting, smooth flesh.
“Drop—drop your pants,” she ground out through clenched teeth.
“What? I’m not sure I quite heard you.”
 “You heard me just fine, wolf. Take off…your fucking…pants. Now.”
“My name is Colt.”
Growling, she grabbed him by the belt buckle and yanked the strap out of the
loops in one easy tug before assaulting his fly.
Shit.
His pants were around his ankles and his ass on the sofa before he could even
think of putting up a struggle—not that he intended to.
She pushed his spine against the sofa back and put her face very close to his, as if
she were holding herself back from kissing him. Her breathing was so fast and
unregulated, she had to be moments from hyperventilating. It wasn’t a time for
teasing.
She was so wet, she was fucking dripping.
And then he was in her, and it felt amazing.
Fuck. He ground his back teeth and growled as she settled onto him. There was
nothing better than a mate’s touch. He’d heard that time and time and again, but he
didn’t know what it really meant until now.
She threw her head back and murmured something in Spanish at the ceiling while
digging her fingers into his tense shoulders.
His Spanish was pretty rusty, but he managed to catch something about el diablo.
Whether she was speaking in general terms about the supernatural being, Colt’s cock,
or Colt himself, he couldn’t guess from context. Didn’t matter, though. Knowing the
meaning wouldn’t change what he wanted to do.
He rocked his hips again and tried to push more of him into her tight, wet channel,
and she put her hands around his neck and squeezed, cocking her head in a daring
way.
He let out a slow breath through parted lips as his belly spasmed and tingles
danced down his spine and settled into his loins. His nuts drew up tighter as she
grazed her thumbs up the column of his neck.
“I didn’t tell you to move,” she whispered and gave his neck another little
squeeze. It didn’t quite cut off his air, but still managed to amp up his anticipation all
the more.
His head was in a pretty fucked up place at the moment, with his inner wolf urging
him to let her have her way, and Colt not really wanting to put up much of a fight.
Do want you want, princess.
He nodded, slowly, so as not to rile up her inner wolf’s aggression any further. He
was guessing that’s what he was dealing with. Usually after a woman received her
bite, her DNA would start to shuffle immediately, so the part of her that was wolf
came out of slumber. Depending on her innate tolerance, the process might take a few
minutes to start, or a few hours. Colt was the son of an alpha, and a born alpha
himself, so he imagined that his bite wouldn’t be of the garden-variety sort.
Just do what you want.
Sighing, she started riding him, using her strong thighs to slide her pussy up and
down his cock, and his breath came out in a growl.
She clapped a hand over his mouth and bared her new fangs at him. Her first shift
was starting, and she probably didn’t even know it. “Don’t. Talk. Shit.”
He nodded slowly again.
She squeezed around him tightly, and he held his breath so as not to let out the
moan.
“Good.” She stood quickly and turned, only to straddle him backward with her
knees pressed to his thighs and her hands gripping his knees.
Gods, please don’t…
At that angle, he was going to come fast, and there wasn’t a damned thing he
could do about it. There was no mind over matter treatment for being ridden reverse
cowgirl.
She bounced. And then again. A double, this time, as if she were checking him for
durability, judging by the way she looked back at him and assessed his condition
before going on.
He put his hands on the delectable swells of her ass and parted her cheeks.
What he wouldn’t give to run his tongue along her cleft and make her squirm.
“You’re going to get yourself into trouble,” she said breathily.
“You said I couldn’t have fun. I’m not having fun. I’m being tortured. You could
at least give me something to hold on to.”
“Maybe you need to be tied up so you won’t have to.”
“Tie me up, then.”
“Next time.”
Next time.
Gods.
He squeezed his eyelids shut as she bounced and clamped down hard enough on
his bottom lip to draw blood as he hit the end of her channel against and again, and
fuck, he wasn’t even allowed to like it.
His fingers curled into the sofa fabric and he heard the rip—the ruination of
expensive material that was supposedly designed to survive even the most
rambunctious of families. Apparently, that furniture designer hadn’t had werewolves
in mind when sourcing the polyester blend.
His thighs shook and belly shuddered with each aggressive rise and fall, and he
had to look. Had to see that gorgeous ass rippling as she rode him up and down.
Her nails dug into the flesh of his thighs and she let out an ear-rending shout, full
of what he was pretty sure were Spanish expletives as she clamped so fucking hard on
him, milking him. But she hadn’t said he could come yet.
“Can I—”
Abruptly, she stood and yanked him up by the collar of his shirt. “It’ll have to
wait. Oh, gods.” Her fangs dropped even more and her eyes darkened. Her skin
rippled with the beginnings of her shift.
He pushed her toward the back door, kicking his pants off his ankles as he went.
Time to run. Nothing killed an erection like an impromptu shifting to one’s wolf.
She screamed, writhed, and clawed at herself as the moon compelled her to shift,
and he shifted right alongside her, although he didn’t have to. His variant of werewolf
wasn’t affected by the moon, though most others were.
He had to shift right then to make sure that she didn’t get confused and lost in her
new form. It would probably take her brain a few shifts for the wolf part to connect
with the human one, and until then, she needed to be supervised.
He could tell her what to do when they were wolves, and she’d have no choice but
to listen. It would probably be the only time she’d listen to me.
Again, he wasn’t so sure he minded.
That scared him even more than that time he’d had a madman swing a machete at
him in a tight hallway. Colt had known what to do then, and had managed to put the
guy down without any bloodshed. Fighting was easy. Relationships? Not so much.
It wasn’t his fault, though. He’d had training in fighting. Alpha had made sure
Colt was as dangerous on two legs as he was on four. When he was fighting, he didn’t
second-guess himself. Alpha couldn’t train Colt on how to be in a relationship,
though. His parents were supposed to do that, and…
Well, they failed.
All of his relationships were fucked up, so what was one more?
 CHAPTER THREE

Lisa yanked open the screen door, and spotting her so-called husband on the sofa
with a game controller in his hands, tossed her purse at his head.
He easily dodged it and didn’t even have to take his gaze off the television screen.
Of course he didn’t. His reflexes in both his forms were stunning.
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
“You seem upset, dearest.” He let out a volley of rapid gunfire on the baddie on
the screen, and growling, she put her body in front of the massive display. She
wouldn’t be able to cover all of it, but she could definitely annoy him. She wanted
him annoyed—at least as annoyed as she was at the moment. After that first night
when she’d lost control and let out her unleashed bitch, she’d been trying to rein
herself in, but he made it so fucking hard. If anything, he seemed to be goading her on
purpose, but she decided that couldn’t be true. A wolf like him couldn’t possibly want
to be bossed around by his mate. He was a born alpha, after all. It had been evident to
her after her wolf came out.
He groaned and tossed the game controller onto the sofa. “What did I do wrong
this time?”
She sighed and batted a hair though her ponytail. “Oh, you know what you did.
Seems like you healed okay, though.”
He gave her that long, apathetic blue stare she was becoming so familiar with and
let his hands dangle between his legs.
She tapped her right foot against the floor and willed herself to stay focused.
Pretty much nonstop for the three days since she’d gotten her bite, she’d been
thinking dick, dick, dick—and not the word as an insult, either. Colt may have been
batting zero in certain aspects of his personality, but his cock had certainly been worth
the price of admission.
Fuck, the man was going to drive her insane.
She closed her eyes and balled her hands into fists at her sides. She could be calm
and composed. “I heard Christina clawed you up.”
Sweet little Christina—the prayerful one from the day of the matches. She was the
kind of woman who wouldn’t hurt a fly. During a grocery outing with Mrs. Carbone
and the other mates, Lisa had observed Christina to be the kind of woman who’d go
out of her way to not step on a worm on a wet sidewalk. But apparently, even an
unassertive wolf like her had limits.
He shrugged. “Just a little swipe. I shifted soon after, so the cuts went away.”
“What’d you do to earn it? Keep in mind that I already know.”
“So why bother asking?”
“Because I want to hear your side of the story. Perhaps I’m missing something.
Maybe you’re not actually that big of a jerk, and people just overstate things because
you’re large and imposing.”
He scoffed. “Imposing, huh? Doesn’t seem to affect you one way or the other.”
“I’m immune to that bullshit and so much worse, let me tell you. Now you tell me,
what did you do?”
“Usual shit. I was yanking Beast’s chain a little. He’s used to it.”
“Anton, you mean.”
“Beast. We all have nicknames.”
“Really? What’s yours? I haven’t heard it yet.”
Again, he shrugged.
“I see.” She tapped her foot impatiently. “Well, let me tell you what I heard. I
heard that you were talking shit to Anton, and Christina didn’t like it, so she gave you
a swipe.”
“Sounds about right. I’m sure you would have done the same thing.”
“For you?”
“Yeah.” He leaned sideways a bit as if to see the television around her body.
She turned and pressed the game console’s power button with her foot.
“Goddammit.”
“I don’t know if I’d do it for you, to be honest. I might have thought you deserved
the insult. You just can’t keep your mouth shut, can you? Not everything in life is a
pissing contest.”
He put his booted feet up onto the coffee table and crossed his legs at the ankles.
“Oh, but it is. It’s just one big pissing contest. That’s what happens when you have the
makings of five alphas in one confined area. Some of us handle it differently than
others. Beast somehow manages to compartmentalize that shit. Loner keeps himself
separate from everyone. Scion just puts his head down and tries to find shit to distract
himself from all of the compulsions. Me?” Once more, he shrugged. “I crack jokes.”
“You’re trying to start fights.”
“No, no, no, princess. I’m not trying to. Wolves try to assert their dominance
whenever possible, and I often do it with words.”
She was going to break him out of calling her “princess” somehow and some way,
but at the moment, it was the least of her problems. “How’s that dominance thing
working out for you?”
He turned his hands over. “It is what it is. Doesn’t seem to be working so well on
you, huh?”
“Like I said, I’m immune to that shit. I’m an alpha’s worst nightmare.”
“I’ll say. You won’t consider me dominant in my own house?”
“Well, you do seem to think you’re the one running it.”
“You haven’t even been here a week yet.”
“That’s right. When I commit to something, I commit one hundred percent. I said
I’d stay and be your mate, but I’m not the complacent sort of girl who’s going to coast
on the status quo. You’re thirty-four years old. You need to do better.”
He scoffed. “You throwing my age into this, princess? You’re no spring chicken.
You and those pretty tits of yours are twenty-eight, and as far as I can see, you haven’t
solved any major world crises yet. What, precisely, should I be aspiring to? I’ve got a
roof over my head, a pretty good job, and scheduled downtime. That’s far more than
we had before we settled here. I’d like to enjoy it.”
“You’ve been here for more than six months.”
“Yep. I think it’ll take a little while longer to make up for a lifetime of shit-tastic
situations. I’ve lived out of vehicles for the better part of my adult life, and left my
birthpack when I was sixteen. That’s when my father got challenged. He lost. He was
perfectly willing to stick around and be some guy’s ass-sniffing lieutenant, but I didn’t
get to choose. I got sent away. Adam collected me after my mother sent him out to
find me, and here I am. So, yeah, I’m enjoying this sofa and my television and my
free time very much.”
She sighed and closed her eyes. Goddammit. He just had to go and have a sob
story. Still, that doesn’t excuse bad behavior. She had a fucking sob story. Thanks to
her ex-alpha’s mishandling of pack funds, her family had nearly been homeless more
times than she cared to recount. They’d always had to dig themselves out. The odds
were stacked against them, and she hadn’t let that stop her. She sighed. “You should
want more.”
“Okay, maybe I’m an asshole. I freely and under no duress—beyond the blue balls
you inflicted me with—can admit that. But that doesn’t mean I’m lazy.”
“I never said you were lazy.”
“You were getting there, I’m sure. My nickname is Idler, by the way, because I
don’t volunteer for extra. I don’t do the above and beyond thing.”
“Because you don’t care?”
He gave his head a slow shake and let out a bark of laughter. “I care plenty. I just
don’t think this is going to last, so I’m enjoying it while I can.”
“You don’t think what’s going to last?”
He swept his arm at the room. “This—domesticity thing. We’re not used to it.
We’re the castoff wolves that our old packs couldn’t trust to let stay, but that’s our
culture, isn’t it? No one can get too comfortable. Little boys with any power at all get
sent away before they grow into it. Girls answer mate calls hoping to find something
better than the shit puddle they’re living in.”
Lisa groaned and rubbed her eyes. She couldn’t really debate that. She’d done it,
after all. Twice.
“Alphas get overthrown,” Colt continued, “and there’s chaos. So much fucking
chaos. There’s no stability.”
“And you don’t think it’s possible here, is what you’re saying?”
He shrugged. “Maybe it’s possible. Alpha sure hopes it is. He’s so damned
optimistic that he’s already got our hosts partitioning off lots for newcomers. He
wants to make us a legitimate pack, I guess. Not just a roving band of mercenary
nomads.”
“You think that’s a bad thing?”
He pursed his lips and made a waffling hand gesture. “Nice thing if you can get it,
but it’s just going to be more of the same. The pack will get too big, and have too
many little boys, and we’ll start sending them away because we’re afraid of them.”
“It doesn’t have to be that way. There are ways for people to lead without them
being the alpha in charge. I’ve seen it in other groups. If you structure the pack the
right way at the beginning, align people’s expectations, you can give people a chance
to do it a new way. A democratic way.”
“If I had a little flag, I’d wave it at you right now. Nice speech, princess.”
“I told you not to call me princess.” She stalked across the room, slammed her
hand between his thighs, and grabbed his nuts.
The sound he made was as much moan as it was a hiss. His eyes rolled behind
fluttering eyelids, and she pushed up an eyebrow, in awe.
 “You like that, don’t you?”
He swallowed audibly and pushed up his heavy-looking eyelids. “I have no idea
what you’re talking about.”
“You do. You’re prodding me, just like you do with your packmates. But from me,
you’re not expecting a cranky retort. You want me to put you in your place, don’t
you?”
He dragged his tongue across his lips. “As if you could. No one can. Not even
Alpha.”
“That’s a lie.” She released his balls and drew out her hand. Giving him a little
space to move, she hissed, “Stand up.”
He did, but only after staring at her for a few seconds first.
She put her hands on her hips and met his skeptical gaze. He couldn’t hold it and
looked away, down at his crossed arms.
No way.
“Look at me.”
His gaze flitted up briefly, then back down again.
No freakin’ way.
She knew men with attitudes like his who always played so nicely with her once
they knew it was the best thing for them, but they weren’t wolves. Submissive alpha
wolves didn’t exist.
Or do they?
There were a few ways to find out. “Listen, I need to get some work done. You’re
possibly the most pessimistic wolf I’ve ever met, and that’s saying something, coming
from a realist. I have to be optimistic. I came to this place to find somewhere better
for my sisters, because they’re not doing so great back in that shit puddle—as you
called it—where I came from. I’m going to make this a good place for them. I want to
see them living on a couple of those unclaimed plots, do you understand me? Nod if
you understand me.”
He nodded and licked his lips again.
“And you may not be particularly ambitious, but I am. I earn my way, and I like to
have money in the bank to cover my ass. I’ve got work to do—clients to do taxes for.
I need some room to do it. There’s a desk in your guest bedroom that needs to be
assembled. You can have the couch and your game controller back when you’re
done.”
He waited a few seconds before moving, but he did move. Not a single retort
passed his lips.
Interesting.
“Tools are already in there.”
“Okay.”
“Oh. And Colt?”
He turned. “Yeah?”
“Going above and beyond doesn’t have to be a fruitless endeavor. We’re not just
talking about sowing seeds for the future. There’s something so—” Lisa slipped her
hand inside her waistband and gave her clit a tender rub. “Mmm. So arousing about a
hardworking man. Makes me want to corner him. To sit on his face and let him tongue
me off. And if I’m still raring to go after that…” She strode to him, pulled her hand
free, and tucked her fingers between his lips. “Well, you know.”
“You’re killing me,” he said around them, and sucked them hard.
“Not killing you. Motivating you. Ready to work?”
He groaned and let her fingers fall from his lips. “Shit, I’m pretty sure there’s
some rule about bribing one’s husband with sexual acts.”
“You complaining?”
“You’d probably say that’s all I do.” He continued to the bedroom, and Lisa stood,
watching him walk away.
So fucking weird.
Her natural assumption had been that he wouldn’t want to be told what to do,
because no strong wolf really did. But letting someone else do the steering wasn’t
always a sign of weakness. Sometimes, it was the smartest thing a person could do, if
the person doing the steering was trustworthy enough.
Lisa liked to think she was, but she hadn’t earned his trust yet. She’d arrived at
Norseton expecting its wolfpack to be like so many others—expecting its wolves to be
like all the others. She thought she was taking one for the team—paving the way for
her sisters. She’d given more thought to how she’d work the system than she did to
figuring out a way to connect with her mate. She’d assumed he wouldn’t be worth her
energy.
Maybe he wasn’t. But if he was, then the trip to Norseton might turn out to be
even more life changing than she’d hoped. She owed it to herself to at least try to see
the man as a partner, and not just a mate.
Perhaps she owed it to him, too.
 CHAPTER FOUR

Colt carried the toolbox out of the guest bedroom and set it down in the hallway.
Then he changed his mind and carried it to the garage. Lisa would probably have his
ass if she found it there and tripped on it. Wolves tended to be a bit more spatially
aware than plain-old humans, but he didn’t think the experiment was worth the risk.
Besides, it was just a few more steps and carrying it wasn’t big deal.
Shit.
She’d been there for barely three days, and already had him jumping through
hoops. Not even two days ago, he’d been cracking jokes at Loner about the same kind
of shit, and there Colt was, letting a woman lead him around by the dick.
He rolled his eyes and groaned. “Can’t think of a better part to be led around by.”
He found Lisa tucked into the left corner of the sofa with her laptop propped
between her legs and a tablet computer right next to her. Her brow furrowed as she
typed away, looking from one screen to the other without acknowledging him. She
had a wolf’s hearing now, so she had to have heard him approach.
Maybe she’s holding up another hoop for me.
He cleared his throat and rocked back on his heels.
“I heard you. Give me a minute, okay?” Again, she didn’t even look up.
Won’t even look at me. He scoffed and tapped his foot impatiently.
His inner wolf thought he was being too sensitive. The part of him that was just
man wanted the wolf to shut the fuck up. He hated feeling like his two halves were at
odds. It was an unfamiliar situation for him, and he wasn’t sure how to navigate it.
Pour some beer on it.
He started for the kitchen. A quick glance at the microwave clock told him he still
had a chance of getting eight hours of sleep before his six A.M. shift. Most adult
wolves did just fine on four or five hours, but their reflexes were sharper and acuity
more reliable when their brains got enough time to unpack and reorder all the crap
from the previous day. He imagined his brain was going to have a roaring good time
making sense of why he was allowing some slip of a woman to boss him around. The
only person he’d ever let talk to him like that was Alpha, and Alpha had earned the
right.
Lisa, though…
He put his hand on the refrigerator handle and pulled.
“I’m ready for you,” she called.
He froze. Get the beer, or hop to attention? Fuck, he wanted that beer, but he did
need to be on security duty at dawn. Sobriety was a safe bet. He settled on pouring
himself a glass of water, and drinking it while she waited.
Why the fuck am I being so ornery?
He rolled his eyes.
Duh. Reflex. He’d been on autopilot so damned long, he didn’t know how to shut
it off.
“Colt?”
“Yeah, I’m coming.”
He poured another glass, returned the pitcher to its fridge shelf, and headed down
the hall toward her voice. He found her on her knees, under the desk where she
seemed to be assessing the craftsmanship. “Does it meet your requirements, milady?”
He groaned inwardly. He’d done it again—his mouth was running on autopilot.
She’d probably want to muzzle him soon, and he probably deserved it.
Her gaze tracked from his face down to the hand clutching the water glass.
“Want some?” he asked.
“Nah, thanks. The desk is fine. Thank you for assembling it. Does this cable jack
work? I’d like to move the Internet connectivity stuff into here so a heap of cords isn’t
the first thing you see when you open the front door.”
“I’m honestly not sure if it works. I’ve never plugged anything into it.”
She pushed up one of her perfectly arched eyebrows.
Fail. Fail. You fail, dude. “I mean, I can find out.” He thought longingly about that
beer again.
“I don’t need you to find out. I can figure out whether or not it works by plugging
a television into it, but if you already knew, it would have saved me a little time.”
“I hadn’t tried. Mrs. Carbone was the one who got in contact with the satellite dish
company and got everything activated. I know every outlet in the front half of the
house is hot—living room and kitchen—as is my bedroom.”
“Our bedroom.”
 “Right, right, our bedroom.” How quickly he’d forgotten, seeing as how he’d been
camping out in Sofatown for the last few nights. There’d been no wedding night roll
in the hay for them, or even some night-after-the-wedding-night coitus. The ice
princess had frozen him out of his own bedroom.
Well, actually, that wasn’t true. He’d chosen not to pursue her. She’d never
explicitly barred him entry. He’d just assumed she’d kick him out.
Damn, I’m a chickenshit.
“I’ll check it tomorrow. This should do for the time being, though.” She crawled
out from beneath the desk—head down to avoid bumping it, probably—and wiggled
her hips so damn enticingly as she backed out.
If she’d been any other woman, he might have dropped to his knees and pulled her
back against him—ground his erection against her backside to show her the
consequences of teasing him. Trying such a thing with his wife, however, would be a
scenario likely ending with him getting mauled.
She stood, clapping her hands clean on her jeans. She twisted her lips to one side
and gave him an inscrutable look that made his spine straighten instinctively.
It wasn’t a hostile look, by any means, but he hated not being able to figure her
out. All the missteps were ramping up anxiety he’d never felt before. He wanted to
please her, but didn’t really understand the compulsion to. She was his mate, but that
had never meant much in their culture. And she was also his wife—legally. Those
were just titles, though. They didn’t dictate how they were supposed to treat each
other. They were on their own to figure that shit out.
She shoved her hand down the front of his pants, unerringly finding his cock.
His body pulled tight as a bow. His spine arched away from her, yet pushed his
hips toward her at the same time.
He waited for the pain, for punishment, but she merely worked her fist from the
base of his shaft to the head and rolled her dark gaze up to him.
Please don’t tease me.
“Are you always hard, or do you just go rigid at the slightest touch?”
He sucked in some air and let it out in a sputter. “You know, there is really no
good answer to that.”
She couldn’t walk into the same room with him and not get him hard. Some of that
was hormonal werewolf bullshit. She was obviously nearing a fertile period, and as
her mate, he would notice the shift in her biology better than anyone. Of course he
wanted to bend her over and push his cock into her as far as it could go, and then not
get off her until he’d filled her with his seed. But, his eyes were working just fine, too.
She was a beautiful woman, and he was fucking lucky.
“How many women have you been with, wolf?”
Wolf. He grated his teeth. She had to stop calling him that. Coming from her, it
was like a slur.
“My name is Colt, and why do you ask?” If any question could have deflated a
woody, that would have been it.
She freed her hand from his pants and undid the button. “How many?”
“I don’t know. Why?”
“You don’t know because you’ve lost count? That seems typical with male
wolves, doesn’t it? You’ll fuck anything in a skirt, and then move on to the next prey.”
“If you know it’s typical, why bother getting mad at me about it?”
She let down his zipper and pulled his boxers away from his cock. “I’m not mad. I
just don’t condone it. In fact, there are a lot of things about wolf culture that can stand
to be changed. It’s not fair, is it? All of the double standards and chauvinistic
leadership. A woman can never get ahead.”
“That’s the way it’s always been.”
“And do you like that?” She clenched the base of his cock once more and pumped
it to hardness again.
Took all of three seconds.
He put his head back and rolled his eyes at the ceiling. Gods, so pathetic.
“Do you?”
“Like what? Having you play with my cock? I think the answer to that is
obvious.”
“No, I don’t mean that, but I’m glad you like it. I tend to touch when I talk.
Usually not of this nature, but, we’re mated, so why not?”
Yes, why not? “For God’s sake, keep talking, then.” He thrust his hips forward a
couple of inches, pushing himself farther through her fist.
She smirked and gave him a playful tug that had him hissing.
So good.
“What I meant was, do you like the way it’s always been? Women having no say,
and men getting away with everything under the sun, including murder on the rare
occasion.”
“I’ve never really had an opinion about it. I mean, I like to think my dad was an
okay alpha, but I’m sure he was just as entrenched in the bullshit as anyone else. I try
not to think much about my old pack and what happened there. Easier to block that
shit out.”
“I see. Well, I can’t help but to think about mine, because my sisters are still there.
I know my parents will do the best they can for them, but let’s face it—eventually,
their alpha is going to insist that they take mates within the group—one of his
disgusting sons or the sons of his lieutenants, probably. And then they’ll have no
choice but to turn the girls over.”
“They can say no.”
Lisa dropped his cock and laughed. “You actually think that? If so, you really are
naïve about your own culture.”
He bristled at the accusation and opened his mouth to spew a retort, but with a
great deal of self-restraint, he pressed his lips together. He knew fuck-all about what
was happening in most packs nowadays, because Alpha chose to limit their
interactions with them. Colt had no sisters and no close female friends growing up, so
he couldn’t really understand the female wolf’s plight. Perhaps he’d even made
himself purposely blind to it because it didn’t concern him. He’d only fucked human
women in the past fifteen years, and none of them had ever had a problem saying no
when they wanted to.
“They’re sixteen and seventeen,” she said softly. “And men in the pack are eying
them. They’re sweeter than I am. More docile. They’d make perfectly submissive
mates.”
“How is that possible if you were raised in the same household?” He couldn’t help
himself. She’d left herself wide open for the observation.
She sighed and crooked her index fingers into his belt loops. “Don’t get smart.”
He wanted to see what would happen if he was, but for the moment, he could
behave.
She furrowed her brow and let out a long breath.
She’s upset. Fix it, his inner wolf said. That’s your job.
Colt swallowed and turned his gaze up to the ceiling. My job. Right. He was
unpracticed in being a listening ear. The guys in the pack didn’t lay their burdens out
for their packmates to brainstorm about, and his mother had never told his father shit
because his father probably wouldn’t have done shit. Colt had never thought that was
unusual until he met the Carbones. At first, he’d thought the Carbones were unusual
in their constant communication. It had taken a year for Colt to figure out that they
actually respected each other. He was pretty damned pathetic.
She skimmed her fingers up his chest and grazed the stubble on the underside of
his jaw. Her gaze was on his face now, and there was no question that she saw him.
She was too meticulous with her strokes for her to just be fidgeting, though.
Her hands moved with purpose, as did her lips, which shaped whispers.
“I was wondering if you’d shave. I prefer this to the beard. I like being able to see
your face.”
“Yeah?” He breathed in time to the rhythmic gliding of her thumbs against his
cheeks and closed his eyes.
Every gentle touch seemed to loosen some tight knot, either in his body or in his
energy. It was like she was molding it beneath her fingers, smoothing the rough edges.
Forcing out the garbage.
“Mmm, you’re a bit of an alpha yourself, aren’t you?” he asked as her fingers
worked down his chest again. “I don’t know anyone else who can move power around
like that. I bet your old alpha was happy to see you leave.”
“He didn’t know I could do it. I would have had to touch him for him to know.
And I think the gift is stronger now that I have your bite.”
“Happy to be useful.”
She laughed. “Always talking back, huh?”
“Can’t help it.”
“I’m seeing that.” She sighed and backed away, crossing her arms over her chest.
Come back.
“Hard to be so close and not touch you,” she said. “You’re distracting.”
“That’s a bad thing?”
“When you’re trying to have a conversation about things that aren’t sex? Yes.
Listen, I raised my sisters more than my parents did, really, from the time I was
eleven or twelve. It was a shitty arrangement, but we didn’t have a choice. While they
worked, I babysat. Try as I might to get them to toughen up, they just aren’t fighters.”
“No one really expects female wolves to be.” Not everyone could be like Lisa, just
like how not every man could be a true alpha, even if he somehow managed to steal
the position.
“I’ve got less than six months to get the seventeen-year old out. My parents won’t
be able to do it from the inside because they’ve got no clout, but I can do it from here.
Everyone knows I’m a wildcard. The pack higher-ups will leave my parents alone,
thinking it is all my idea. The pack won’t give them a hard time if the girls get
absorbed into this pack first. They can’t leave without their alpha’s permission, or
Adam’s consent for them to come, though.”
 “I don’t think Adam would deny them, but why can’t they do what you did and
answer a mate call? There’s a chance they could end up somewhere better.”
“Because mate calls are unpredictable. My old alpha is going to try to pair
Graciella off the day she turns eighteen, and there may not be a call in time.”
He rubbed his chin and furrowed his brow. He could figure it out. He was the best
tactician in the pack, and the guys relied on him to find simple solutions to
complicated problems. He could do that for Lisa, too. He could prove he was good for
something besides being an asshole with a big mouth.
And…hell, maybe he liked talking to her a little. He didn’t have conversations
with the guys. They dealt more in grunts than words, and Colt was a talker. Always
had been.
“But even if you get her out, your other sister will be on the hook, and their alpha
will know the game by then. He’ll be waiting to pounce and reject any requests that
come through.”
“That’s why I have to get them out together. I just need to figure out how.”
Her voice always seemed to hold a note of persistence when she talked about her
family. Colt had never been moved to such sentiment by anyone. He’d never wanted
to fight for anyone, besides himself. His woman was scrappy. He couldn’t deny that.
She wasn’t what he’d imagined he’d get in a mate, because he hadn’t really known
that women like her existed.
“In my old pack,” he said, “there used to be a custom that wolves would get
promised during their adolescence. Arranged matings, I guess. Everyone would know
about them, so none of the males would pursue the females that had already been
earmarked. The day they turned eighteen, the women would get packed up and
shipped off to their mates, no questions asked.”
Lisa rubbed her chin and narrowed her bewitching, dark eyes. “That custom is
widespread. People don’t do it much anymore, but I don’t see why I couldn’t try it.
The problem is, there are no males here of the right age, or even any eligible ones for
that matter.” She pressed her palm against his belly and slid it down idly, chewing on
her bottom lip as she went quiet in her thoughts.
He drew in a deep breath and let her fondle. His toes curled in his boots and ass
cheeks clenched with each rasp of her fingernails against his tender skin.
And then she stopped.
“Don’t stop.”
“Huh?” She cast her gaze upward and furrowed her brow. She probably hadn’t
even realized she’d started touching him again.
 “Touching me. I mean, it’s okay, if you want to. I won’t get pissed, although I do
feel a little teased. Not helping my blue balls any, but I’m not going to say no to your
hand being on my dick.”
She put her hand back and smirked. “Do any of you men have brothers or cousins
young enough for a couple of naive wolves?”
“I don’t.”
“Damn.” Her smile fell away, as did her hand.
No, no, no. You’re failing her. Fix it, dipshit. He grabbed her hand and squeezed it.
He couldn’t remember ever just holding a woman’s hand, besides his mother’s. “Hey,
I’ll ask around. Give me a few hours.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. You might be better off asking the other mates, though. You’re all younger
than us. There’s probably one or two who have brothers who are close to being
expelled from their packs anyway. Adam would definitely take them in.”
“And if they don’t end up liking each other, it won’t matter, because they’ll be free
to do what they want.”
“And who they want.”
She gave his cock head a punishing squeeze that had him spreading his legs for
balance. “And here I was thinking you were being helpful.”
“I’m trying. Goddess knows I am. I say stupid shit all the time.” He thrust his hips
a bit and she graciously loosened her grip on him enough to let his cock slide through
it. “Fuck. I’m so hard, it hurts.”
“You’re dripping.” She worked her thumb over the swollen head, and he tamped
down a pathetic moan. “You could jack off, you know.”
“I probably should, and soon.”
“What’s stopping you?”
“So many things.” He’d been hoping she’d let him fuck her, for one, but mostly he
hadn’t because she didn’t tell him he could. After he’d given her his mark that first
night, she’d told him to go take care of himself, but he hadn’t had a chance to. He’d
been too busy feeling sorry for himself.
“Use words, wolf.”
Wolf.
He closed his eyes and forced some air through his teeth. “No. Colt. I’m Colt.”
She called him wolf, just like the alpha who’d taken his father’s job. Wolf—as if he
didn’t have a name, or at least that it wasn’t worth being learned.
Wolf, as if he was some useless thing, one step away from being cast out on his ass
with no one to care for him or about him.
He’d thought maybe she might care, but obviously she didn’t. She was just
another user.
He wasn’t going to be called wolf in his own house, not even by a woman he’d let
do anything to him. There, he drew the line.
He swallowed and straightened his spine. “Well, princess, I didn’t do it because I
figured it was your job, and I wanted to save all of my cum for your tight snatch.”
Her eyes went wide and he chuckled, spreading his legs a bit farther apart. He
placed her other hand on his cock and guided her in rubbing him.
“Am I being helpful now, princess?”
She gave his cock a hard pluck and walked away. “Fuck you.”
“Nah,” he called after her. “I’m gonna do exactly what you said and go fuck
myself.”
At least that was reliable. He didn’t need anyone else. He had himself, same as
always.
 CHAPTER FIVE

Even when Lisa wasn’t in her wolf form, there were certain perks to having
supernatural wiring. For one thing, her nose gave her information that her eyes and
ears didn’t.
She could see anger on Colt’s face and in his confrontational body language, and
hear it in his thunderously deep voice. But anger wasn’t what she smelled. She was
beginning to discern the nuances in scents the longer she spent around wolves and in
her wolf form. Every strong emotion had its own hormone bouquet, and what Colt
was feeling wasn’t just anger, though there was a bit of that there. There was
something else that she couldn’t quite put a figurative finger on, but it gave her
pause…so she gave him space.
She wasn’t going to try to psychoanalyze him. Every wolf she knew was some
degree of fucked up—herself included—and wolves generally weren’t so great at
verbalizing what was wrong. It’d be too deep-seated and sewn into their personalities.
But her parents had taught her to speak up, at least in her own house, and to pull up
the people around her. If everyone around her were happy, she’d be happier, too.
She and Colt were dancing around each other, tiptoeing over actual discourse, and
discussing nothing about their relationship. She’d stormed into his house thinking he
needed to be fixed—and maybe he did—but she’d given little thought to why he
needed to be fixed. Only that he did. Then she’d managed to piss him off in a way she
still hadn’t been able to figure out. It wasn’t because she was bossy, but there’d been
some other trigger. Something she’d said, but she couldn’t determine what.
After a month of avoiding Colt at every turn, and him doing the same by picking
up all those overtime shifts he’d claimed before to not want, she met Ashley at the
coffee shop in Norseton. They settled at a table by the window, and Lisa propped her
laptop bag against her chair legs. She’d hoped to get a bit of work done outside of the
house. Colt supposedly had the day off, so if she were the reason he didn’t want to be
at home, she’d clear away for a while.
Ashley pushed a swath of her dark hair back from her face and tented her fingers.
“So, how are your sisters?”
Lisa let out a long breath and swirled the coffee stirrer through her cappuccino’s
foamy top. “Hanging in there the best they can. Their alpha keeps stopping by the
house to supposedly check up on them when my parents aren’t home, and my folks
usually aren’t. They’ve got five jobs between the two of them. They’re still trying to
dig themselves out of the hole. That sleazebag wouldn’t let them file for bankruptcy
earlier this year.”
“Because the trustee would question why so much of their money was going to the
alpha in dues?”
“Yep.” Adam may be the only alpha Lisa knew of who didn’t collect dues. Mrs.
Carbone did oversee a wolf fund that was earmarked for things like courtyard
improvements, but every penny of that money was annotated on a log, and the log
was kept just inside Alpha’s front door where everyone could find it, if they wanted
to.
“Did your sisters open the door for him?”
“They try not to, but sometimes he hears, you know? Can hear them walking up to
the peephole, and he makes them open up.”
“What does he want?”
Lisa shrugged. “Stupid shit. He doesn’t say much, but the girls say they feel like
he’s sizing them up and making mental notes. It’s so fucking gross. I wish I were
there. He didn’t do that shit when I was there.”
“Did you talk to Alpha?”
“Yeah, I talked to Adam. He’s a busy guy, though.” Lisa scoffed and took a sip of
her coffee. “He actually works for a living, unlike some alphas.”
“What’d he say?”
“He said he’d take care of it, whatever that means. Then some call came in and he
had to run off. That was last week. I’m getting more and more paranoid that
something bad’ll happen before I have a chance to do anything for them. I wish they
could all leave, but my parents wouldn’t uproot themselves with my grandparents still
being in the area. They’re all old, and you know the pack’s not gonna take care of
them the way they should, especially if my parents transfer out.”
“That’s assuming your old alpha would even let them transfer out.”
“He wouldn’t. No way. He wouldn’t give up two dues-paying members of the
pack unless they were troublemakers, and as docile as they’ve been in public up to
this point, no one would take them seriously if they did make a stink now.”
“But they raised you to make a stink.”
“Yeah. I’m not sure what they saw in me to smack that chosen one label on my
forehead, but here I am.”
 “And there they are.” Ashley rolled her eyes and put her back to the window.
Pushing up an eyebrow, Lisa looked out it. Three out of five Pack males were
standing outside the deli across the street clutching bags in their big mitts—Anton,
Vic, and Colt.
Shit. Lisa put her back to the window, too, and muttered, “Trouble in paradise?”
“Haven’t gotten to paradise yet. We’re still on the freakin’ plane, and it’s circling
around the island because the landing strip is too short or something.”
“Poignant.”
“It’s the truth. He hates me.”
“What?” Lisa turned slightly and cut a sideways gaze to Alpha’s son. From the
interactions she’d had with him in five weeks, she’d known him to be a friendly guy.
He was charming and well mannered, but of course he was, given Mrs. Carbone’s
close influence. He should have been an easy wolf to get along with. Not like Colt.
Colt…
Colt, who was mysteriously quiet as his peers chatted in the doorway. The man
always had something to say, but he sat on the bench outside the deli fondling his bag
and staring at something—or perhaps nothing—down the street.
Lisa suspected that if she got close enough to smell him, he’d discern he was sad.
She might even discern that she was to blame for it.
What did I do?
She had to figure it out soon, and not just because she needed his help. She may
have had dominatrix tendencies, but she was also a toucher, and she desperately
wanted to touch her mouthy mate. The separation was driving her a little battier with
each passing day. Mrs. Carbone had said that was normal. It wouldn’t work that way
if it weren’t a good match. Deep down, Lisa knew it was. They were just having a
bumpy-as-hell start, but she’d never been afraid to work for things she wanted.
She set down her coffee cup and pushed back from the table. “I’ll be right back.
Babysit my laptop, will you?”
“Yep,” Ashley said.
Lisa crossed the street, waving at the guys in the doorway as she cut between two
parked cars.
Colt turned, spotted her, and rolled his eyes before fixing his attention on the open
bag on his lap.
She kept her distance from him and leaned against the parking meter. “Doesn’t
Mrs. Carbone usually make you guys lunch?” The question was for Colt, but she kept
her gaze on Vic and Anton.
“Mom’s tied up at the moment,” Vic said. “There’s some sort of big meeting at the
executive mansion, and she’s up to her elbows in crudités, whatever those are.”
Lisa stifled a snicker. “Cut-up vegetables for hors d’oeurves. Carrots and celery.
Raw peppers. That kind of thing.”
“Rabbit food.”
She shrugged. “Not everyone has wolf appetites.”
And speaking of appetites…
She turned to the walking ball of sex on the bench and drummed her fingers atop
the meter. She could hardly stand being in the same house with the man and not being
able to touch him every time he stomped past. She wanted to grab him by his belt and
yank him into submission—to quiet him and pry some words out of him. She needed
to see what was wrong—how she’d offended him, because she obviously had, even if
she couldn’t discern why. She was usually so much better at that, but none of her
previous partners had been as wild as her husband.
“Thank you for rewiring all the Internet stuff,” she began. “I don’t even know
when you did it. You were so quiet, and I’ve hardly left the house in a week.”
Quarterly taxes were due, and she’d been number crunching all through the night.
“Last night while you slept.”
“Oh.” She hadn’t heard a thing. There should have at least been a little swearing.
If not that, then certainly some crashing and flailing. Wolves weren’t known for being
delicate.
Vic perched against the far arm of the bench and set his bag beside Colt. He gave
the other man’s shoulder a nudge. “Coming down with something? Not like you to do
your good deeds in secret. You want instant approval.”
Colt didn’t respond, except to cut his pale gaze to his peer, and then he took a bite
of his sandwich. Looked like turkey and cheese. No lettuce, no tomato—no so-called
“rabbit food.”
She didn’t even know what the man liked to eat. They had yet to sit down at the
same table. Even when they were both in the kitchen at the same time—perhaps her
on her laptop and him having a quick meal—he’d eat at the counter, turned away from
her.
They may have been mates, but they certainly weren’t acting like they were
married. She knew couples like them. They only ever interacted by choice when the
woman was fertile and her mate couldn’t resist her. That period had come and gone.
Colt had stared at her a hell of a lot, and the bulge in his pants indicated that he was
raring to go, but he’d kept his hands to himself—and his words, too.
That had been just fine for her a month ago. Now, she was becoming increasingly
annoyed by it. He was not only ignoring her, but suppressing his basest notions, too.
That took a lot of willpower.
“Not sure how you got him to shut up,” Vic said, “but you should be canonized for
it.”
Colt ground his teeth and stared at his sandwich.
“Eventually, we all run out of things to say,” Anton said. He turned his wrist over
and brought his watch up to his good eye. A patch covered his blind one. Apparently,
he’d lost his vision in a nasty fight not too long before the mates arrived. “The new
hires we’re supposed to shadow are due at the gates in about twenty minutes. We
should head that way.”
“Are they going to be living here?” Lisa asked.
“Yeah, but in temporary housing for the moment. Up there.” He pointed to a two-
story building on the corner, next to the coffee shop. There must have been apartments
on the second floor. “They’re on probation for the next three months, and after that,
we can look into giving them a little more space.”
“Are they wolves?”
“Nah,” Vic said. “There are a few wolves we would hire, but we haven’t been able
to make anything happen. One of Christina’s brothers is a sharpshooter. We made him
an offer. Discreetly, of course. We’re just waiting for it to catch up to him.”
“Where is he?”
Colt balled up his sandwich wrapper and tossed it into the nearby trashcan. “Got
kicked out of his pack before turning eighteen just like all of us, and is roaming
around on his own, likely looking for anyone to give a fuck about him.” He took off at
a brisk pace down the sidewalk and didn’t look back.
Lisa started to follow. They needed to go ahead and get their discussion—or
argument—out of the way. Anton got in front of her and put up his hands, as if to
calm her, but she wasn’t upset. Not yet, anyway. “Move, Anton.”
“Just listen, will you? We’re all sensitive about being ousted. Some of us more
than others, and we all show it in different ways. We’ve been a crew for a long time,
and he’s never brought it up. If that’s what he’s working through right now, don’t ride
his ass about it.”
Was that it? Had she said something to churn up old memories? If she’d made him
feel unnecessary somehow, she’d have to work extra hard to disabuse him of the
notion.
 Vic joined them. “I agree. Trust me, I by far prefer the Colt who puts his head
down and works without all the infuriating commentary than the one who thinks
talking shit is an underutilized form of affection. But we all have to work through this
garbage. We can’t keep dragging it from one generation to the next and taking out
how pissed we are about what happened to us on other people’s kids.”
“You won’t send your own children away, will you?” Lisa asked. “Has anyone had
that conversation yet?” She hated the idea of sending her strong sons away, should she
and Colt ever have any, almost as much as she hated the wolf treatment of girls.
“What do you think, Lisa? My father is our alpha, and I’m still here. Any one of
the guys could be an alpha somewhere, and Dad knew that when he scooped them
up.”
“You guys have built a rapport.”
“That’s right,” Anton said. “And if we’ve proven that we can work together for a
common goal, and live in a community so near each other without regularly trying to
claw out each other’s throats, who’s to say it’s not possible widespread?”
“And natural,” Vic added.
“Just like with any group, you’ve got to blend personalities carefully. It’s not
about how much strength a wolf has, it’s about what he does with it.”
“You have plans, don’t you?” She tipped her chin to both in turn. “About what you
want this pack to be?”
Anton nodded. “We all do. Don’t make assumptions about us. About any of us.
We’re in our own bubble here. What happens out there can stay out there. Got it?”
“Got it.”
The two men followed Colt’s footsteps toward the main road, and Lisa stared after
them until Ashley called from across the street, “Everything okay?”
Lisa hurried back and took her former seat at the table. “Not at the moment.”
“What’s wrong? Did something happen at the mansion?”
“No—nothing’s wrong in that way. I mean in general. With—with Colt.”
“He yelled at you? You want me to find him and kick him really hard?”
Lisa laughed and brought her coffee to her lips. “Nah. He didn’t yell at me. Would
probably make things easier if he did. But that’s okay. I’ve got a plan.” She sipped,
smirking.
“Want to share it? I could use a little help.”
“With Vic? You’re on your own there, sistah. Your wolf’s probably got issues a lot
different from my wolf.”
 “That’s for sure,” Ashley said softly and slumped in her seat.
“Hey. A year from now, we’ll probably look back on this and think we did a whole
lot of fretting for nothing.” Lisa hoped that was the truth and not just a wish. She’d
never had an overabundance of optimism when it came to anything, but she needed to
turn over a new leaf for the sake of her little sisters.
“I don’t even know why we got matched.”
“I thought the same thing at first about Colt, but Alpha said something about us
giving each other what we needed. I don’t know what that is, but I think I can get him
to tell me.”
And in the process, perhaps figure out what she needed from him as well.
 CHAPTER SIX

Colt was beginning to see the appeal of the head-down, work-hard philosophy he
hadn’t subscribed to before a certain domineering female wolf had been dropped into
his world. If he was busy—kept his hands moving and eyes focused—it didn’t leave
much room for his brain to chime in. He didn’t have to think so hard about what it
was all that busy-ness was fixing, only that the activity kept the gnawing anxiety at
bay.
There was a certain rush that came from moving from one completed chore on to
the next with no gap, no downtime. Or perhaps a burst of adrenaline released from
completing a challenge in a self-imposed deadline no one else knew about. He’d
painted his entire house, tossed enough junk and clutter to fill a pickup truck bed,
hauled sheetrock down to the basement for the finishing he hoped to get around to,
dug holes for fence posts in the backyard, and even had time to make a few phone
calls.
He was about to grab Anton and start on a corner of fence in his thumbnail of a
yard when tiniest yank at the back of his pants made him stop. He looked over his
shoulder and rolled his eyes at his wife. “Didn’t hear you.”
She pointed to his ear. “Try taking out the foam.” She overemphasized each word,
ostensibly so he could read her lips.
He pulled out an earplug and tucked it into his pocket. “What’s up?”
“You do realize you live here, right?”
“I haven’t forgotten. My name is on the electric bill, after all.”
“I had to make sure. You’ve been in and out of the house so much in the past six
weeks, I couldn’t tell if you’d forgotten. Where’ve you been sleeping?”
He shrugged. “Here and there.” His wolf didn’t care where he slept, really, as long
as it was reasonably safe. Most nights, he found some nice overhang to sleep under
with his only company being the stars and the occasional lizard. He was starting to
understand what Loner saw in going off on his own so much.
“Are you running from me? Because it usually happens the other way around.
Wolf women do anything to flee their obnoxious mates, so they’ll find any excuse not
to come home for the night. Maybe they’re staying late watching someone’s children,
so it’s just as well they sleep over. Or perhaps they stay up late working on some
chore or craft project so that they don’t have to crawl into bed with a monster.”
Is that how I’m treating her? He’d been pissed at her cavalier treatment of him,
yeah, but he’d never wanted to turn that back on anyone else. That would have made
him no better than the institution he hated so much. He let out a ragged breath as he
raked his hand through his hair. “You’re not a monster, and you’re not obnoxious.”
“Just bitchy. And I don’t mean bitch-bitch as in female wolf, because that’s
obviously incontestable. I mean insufferable.”
He leaned against the doorway and crossed his arms, eying her. Insufferable? That
word hadn’t come to mind. He’d thought a lot of things in both his forms. First, that if
she wasn’t so fucking evil, he’d trot her out like the princess she insisted he not call
her. That wasn’t even alpha wolf bullshit—that was just male braggart crap. Any guy
would do it if they had a wife like her. Wolf women had a certain appeal in general,
but none of them were as showstoppingly captivating as Lisa. And none of them had
made him ever second-guess himself. His own mother had been capable of that kind
of allure, but his mother hadn’t been the kind of alpha’s wife Mrs. Carbone was. His
mother did what she was told and didn’t question anything—not even the bullshit.
Lisa was sort of an alpha in her own right. Bossy. Take-charge and take-no-shit.
Concerned for the wellbeing of others as any good alpha would be, but sometimes
critical to a fault. The criticizing was what he couldn’t stomach. Seemed almost
ironic.
“You’re not saying anything. Obviously you think it’s true,” she said.
He shook his head and closed his eyes to block out the visual stimulation. Her
gaze was too dark, too wise, and he couldn’t help but to feel like he had all his sins
laid bare and she was sorting through each and every one and ready to ask, “What’s
that? And how about this?”
“You’re not insufferable, but you’re hard for me to be around.”
She laughed, and he opened his eyes. He couldn’t tell if the laugh was sarcastic,
but she seemed amused enough.
“Well, thanks for being honest. Why am I hard to be around? And don’t tell me
you have anywhere to be right now. I have it on good authority that you don’t have to
go back to work until Monday. You’ve got the whole weekend off, whether you want
it or not.”
“How’d you find that out?”
“I’ve got Alpha’s ear. I guess if you’re a little pushy and overly idealistic, he takes
pity on you and gives you want you want so you can go be annoying somewhere
else.”
“If you were annoying, he would have said so. Trust me. He tells me all the time.”
“Well, he didn’t tell me that.”
“Probably because he doesn’t think it. He likes you.”
“I’m glad. My last alpha and I weren’t on the greatest terms when I left.”
“Ditto.”
She cringed. “Well, not only are you off this weekend, but so am I.”
He pushed up an eyebrow. “Really? Not gonna bang away on your keyboard all
day and swear about capital gains or whatever it is you’re always mumbling about?”
“I’m caught up for the moment, and all of my invoices are out. Now I just wait for
the money to roll in and chase it down when it doesn’t.” She wriggled her eyebrows.
“Vicious.”
“It’s not a quality exclusive to the males of the species, you know. I turn it on
when I need to.”
“You’ve demonstrated that.”
She canted her head and narrowed those beguiling eyes at him.
“What?”
“I think it’s clear I have high expectations.”
“I gleaned that.”
“You gotta understand where I’m coming from. The first guy I was paired with
during a mate match was a shit stain of wolf. The kind no one would ever worry about
usurping an alpha. The kind so shiftless, you’d have to roll him out of his bed in the
morning so he didn’t piss himself.”
“You made that judgment pretty quickly.”
She shrugged. “After a while, you learn how to peg them. You know what to look
for, and what all the earmarks are. I know too many wolves just like him. Weak, and
with no ambition. The same kinds that’ll turn their daughters over to monsters and
hand over their entire paychecks to their alphas because ‘alpha knows best,’ right?”
“Not a practice we have here. Alpha’s never collected dues.”
“Of course he wouldn’t, though. You guys see Adam as a sort of surrogate father.
He wouldn’t start skimming off your paychecks after spending so many years raising
you into something almost tolerable.”
He scoffed and yanked on the door handle. “Yeah, you can just—”
 She grabbed his wrist and gently pulled his hand from the knob, squeezing it. “I
usually mean what I say. You may not like the words, but they’re my truth. They’re
not always meant to be hurtful, and I’m sorry if they are.”
Some of the tension in his spine eased away the longer she rubbed the top of his
hand and massaged between his fingers. Her hand looked good there, atop his. Like it
belonged.
“Can we move away from the door?” she asked softly. “It’s easier for me to have a
conversation if I don’t think you’re going to bolt.”
“I’m not to going to bolt. I just have some things to do.”
“There’s a film of dust on your videogame console. I considered cleaning it, but I
figured you wouldn’t notice.”
“I would have thought you wanted me to work hard. Isn’t that what you said?”
She pulled him away from the door—or rather, he let her—and he followed her
inside. She didn’t move to the sofa, though, but through the living room and down the
hall. They went the past the office and into the bedroom, where she stationed him at
the foot of the bed and had him sit.
“Great job painting in here, by the way. You have good taste in colors.”
“I don’t have any taste at all. I asked Mrs. Carbone, and she told me to ask you,
but—”
“But you didn’t want to talk to me.”
He shrugged. “If I want to be yelled at, I can present myself to Alpha for a proper
berating. He does it better than anyone.” Alpha could have a guy shaking in his boots
and regretting the day he was born, but Lisa…Lisa was just too fucking efficient at
getting to the quick. Her cuts were deep and deadly, and they weren’t the kind he was
used to bracing himself for. He couldn’t use acerbic barbs and preemptive insults on
her like he did on the guys. She and Colt were too intimate. Her words were too
personal.
He leaned back onto his forearms and watched her tug at his belt buckle. “What
are you doing?”
“I find it easy to get a man to talk when I’m touching him, but it’s even easier
when he’s naked.” She had his button open and fly down before he could think to grab
her hand.
“Number one, how many men did you go through before you learned that? And
number two, what should I be talking about?”
“None of your fucking business, and you.”
 He disagreed that it wasn’t his business, but wouldn’t press. It probably wouldn’t
be a great idea for them to start spitting out numbers because of that “jealous wolf”
thing. It didn’t matter if she was Colt’s now. He’d want to eliminate everyone who’d
come before him just in case she changed her mind. “What about me?”
“Let’s start at the beginning—you as a kid. That seems to be the smartest place.”
Releasing her wrist, he groaned and let his head fall back. “Depends on what your
goal is. If your goal is to get me pissy and agitated, that’s a pretty good place.”
“It’s hard to be pissy when you’re naked, so take off your clothes.”
“You’re kidding me.” He straightened up and found her leaning onto the bed’s
edge with her dark gaze leveled at him. No smile, no smirk. In fact, she seemed to be
grinding her teeth a bit. His mate didn’t like to be kept waiting, apparently.
Well, go ahead, his inner wolf said. She’s waiting.
Standing, he pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it toward the closet. He
cringed, picked it up, and carried it inside to the hamper. No reason to create more
work for myself. While he was in there, he got rid of his boots, socks, jeans, and
underwear. When he returned to the room, covering his shamefully erect cock, she
gestured to the center of the bed.
“On your belly.”
“Why?”
She folded her arms over her chest and stared at him.
“What’s that stern look for?”
“Sometimes, why is just a cowardly way of saying no. If you want to say no, say
no, and tell me you don’t trust me.”
“I do trust you.” He really did, in spite of her managing to shake him to his core
with every fucking conversation. She was difficult to be around, but she wasn’t
untrustworthy.
“I’m glad. I want to trust you, too, but you need to teach me that I can. You
haven’t been around, so I don’t know you. I need to know you.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re my mate.”
Such a simple fucking answer. The right answer.
He crawled onto the bed and settled into the middle, adjusting his cock beneath his
belly.
He looked over his shoulder and found her perched on the edge of the armchair,
wriggling out of her jeans.
Are we going to…?
He hoped they were. He’d been aching to make love to his mate for weeks, and
it’d been so fucking hard not to just ask her to take him out of his misery. Her scent
had nearly driven him insane, and his inner wolf blamed him for everything that kept
him from her. He wanted to be inside her, holding her—holding her, fuck’s sake—and
letting her convince him he wasn’t as big of a fuck-up as he’d always been told.
She skimmed soft, warm fingers up his calves and as far as she could reach
without climbing over the bed. She rubbed the backs of his legs and sent prickling
pulls up to his crotch that made his ass clench. “How tall are you, Colt?”
“Why?”
“Christina said the subspecies of wolves you guys originate from seem to be taller
on average. I think she’s right.” She climbed onto the bed and straddled the backs of
his thighs.
“I don’t know if it’s the subspecies or if it’s just that people with enough power to
be alpha tend to be larger than average. And I was six-three, the last time I was
measured.”
“Wolf average is five-ten. Ask me how I know.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I love numbers. Data. It’s orderly.”
“Unlike real life?”
“Yeah.” She pressed her palms at the base of his spine and worked upward,
undoing every tight knot and sending tightening tugs around to his groin, which was
already tight enough as it was. “I can’t imagine you as an alpha.”
He pressed his palms to the mattress, ready to push up, but she inched up him, her
ass on his, and pushed his shoulders toward the bed. “Don’t get bent out of shape,
wolf.”
Not fuckin’ again. He pushed up once more, and whipped his head around to look
at her. “Do not call me that,” he snapped. “My name is Colt.”
She flinched and yanked her hands back as if he’d burned her. “Wolf, you mean?”
“Yes. That.”
“That makes you angry?”
“I have a name.”
“I figured you wouldn’t mind a nickname. You said it yourself—you all have
them.”
“Not that one. Don’t call me that again.”
“I’m not trying to be mean. It’s what you are.”
“But I’m more than that. I’m not something that can be thrown away or pushed
out. I’m as much man as I am beast. I’m not going to be treated like an unwanted
stray in my own house.”
Her jaw flapped, and her mouth opened and closed few times, but no words came
out. Her gaze was curious and focused, but soft. Finally, she pressed her lips together
and nodded before nudging him down to the bed again.
“Yes, you do have a name. Or names. Many, huh? I have four, because I added
Mary at confirmation.” She laughed softly. “Have you ever heard of a Catholic
werewolf? It’s tricky managing the spiritual stuff nowadays. How many names do you
have?”
It took a moment for all the words to reorder in his mind and make sense. She
hadn’t argued. He’d expected an argument—some defensiveness, liked he’d get from
any other alpha—but it didn’t come.
His coiled muscles relaxed one by one and his lungs expended all the air he’d
been holding. “Just three,” he said, his voice groggy. “Unless you count Junior as a
name.”
“I won’t call you Junior. I knew a guy in my old pack we called that. He had about
as much common sense as a goldfish, and was always getting himself into the kind of
trouble no one wants to admit to have witnessed. I’ll call you Colt.” She leaned
forward, pressed her hands to his shoulders, and squeezed all the tension out of them.
Her nipples danced over his skin as she leaned and straightened, leaned and
straightened. He kept his eyes closed and imagined what the view must have been
like, her riding him like a…
“It’s short for Colton,” he said. “Not like a horse, though I’ve had certain parts of
me compared to one.”
She gave the back of his head a little pluck and laughed. “I figured the lechery
would come back eventually.”
“I am what I am. I guess you’re stuck with it and me—unless you leave.”
He hoped she wouldn’t. He didn’t want to do this again. The woman scared the
hell out of him in a way Alpha couldn’t even come close to, and in entirely different
ways. He found himself changing, for better or for worse. At first, he wasn’t sure he
liked it. He was working and working some more, just so he could distract himself
and stay out of her orbit, but then he’d come to relish the results.
 Maybe before he hadn’t thought he had much of a future—every day was the
same. He had nothing to aspire to. He still didn’t know what he was aspiring to, but he
looked forward to that idea at the back of his brain to finish congealing—the image of
what he could have and what he was working toward.
Lisa didn’t respond to his unasked question, but skimmed her fingertips along his
jaw and across his lips. Both gentle and rough, she always seemed to have a knack for
picking the perfect pressure for what he needed.
She lay atop him and gave his earlobe a nip before whispering, “All work and no
play makes Colton a dull boy.”
He chuckled. “I’m definitely not dull. If that’s what you heard, you’ve been
hanging around with the wrong folks.”
“You haven’t played with me, though. Don’t you want to?”
He opened his eyes to find her dark gaze very near his face and her lips pulled up
into a sexy grin that both made his nuts draw up and also struck fear into his heart.
“You look like you want to hurt me.”
“You’re a big boy. I think you can take it.”
He nodded slowly and swallowed. “Do I want to take it?”
“Only if you trust me.”
“I—I do.”
“Can I touch you wherever I’d like?”
“Hell yeah.” He didn’t even have time to slam his verbal filter down over the
words. He wouldn’t take them back, though.
“Hmm.” She pushed up and kneaded his back some more, then straightened up to
gave his ass a smack hard enough to make him gasp.
“Fuck,” he whispered as his muscles relaxed from the startling impact. His cock
throbbed painfully beneath him, and his skin tingled with anticipation.
She rubbed the flesh, squeezing his ass where she’d struck and made another hmm
sound. “No? Yes?”
“More. Give me all you want, and I’ll give you what I’ve got.”
And he’d certainly try to do the same outside of the bedroom, too. He just needed
her to tell him what to do. Lisa could be his little alpha. He just hoped she wouldn’t be
the kind who would cast him out of their pack of two.
 CHAPTER SEVEN

Lisa had called him wolf because that was what she called every male wolf in her
peer group, but she knew that words sometimes had connotations that she couldn’t
predict. She could also be hurtful without meaning to. Some people might have
thought Colt deserved to get his feelings hurt on occasion, but Lisa had never been
intentionally cruel. There was a fine line between hurting someone who needed it and
tearing them down. She didn’t want to tear him down. She had to live with the man,
and he was a man with so much potential. She’d been wrong when she’d arrived and
was paired with him. He was nothing like that first wolf the Maine alpha had tried to
pawn on her. Colt may have lacked ambition, but he wasn’t lazy. He’d just been…
aimless. Any wolf with his background would have been.
She could help him find an aim. Their aim.
She settled onto the backs of his legs and kneaded his ass, like a cat settling down
for a nap.
“I don’t think anyone in my life has ever paid that much attention to my rear end,”
he said.
“It’s nice.” She gave him another swat to his right cheek that made him hiss. “I’m
a bit put off by the full-body tan, though.”
“I’m a werewolf.”
“One who spends most of his time dressed.”
“Is that what you think, or what you know?”
She gave a hard smack to the top of his left thigh that made him chuckle.
She growled. Chuckling was so not the response she wanted. “Just who’s been
seeing you naked?”
“You jealous?”
She smacked him again, and the other thigh along with it. No chuckle that time,
just a long escape of breath. His cheeks clenched and then released enticingly, so of
course he had to jiggle them.
“I think you’ve got a fetish,” he said.
 “I have a few. And I think you have a mouth that’s going to get you into trouble.”
“Are you just now figuring that out? Tell me more about those fetishes.”
“Nah. This isn’t about me. This is about you.” She reached back and spanked him
again and again, making an imaginary patchwork of angry red handprints on his ass
until his back arched and he gasped.
She gripped his hips and bent to drag her tongue along the dimples, to kiss the red,
tease his seam.
“Whoa.” He pushed up.
“Down.”
He settled into his rest position again, but clenched his ass, as if to keep her roving
tongue far away.
“Afraid you’ll like it?”
He didn’t answer, so she kneaded some more and reached a hand beneath his body
to tickle his sac.
He hissed and his body tensed between her legs.
She worked her knees between his thighs and pushed them farther apart to
improve her access to his crotch. “You know, we female wolves are discouraged from
being sexually provocative because it’s supposed to be our men’s jobs to set the tone
and pace of sex.”
He scoffed. “I’ll take your word for it. You’re the first wolf I’ve fucked, and that’s
not a topic that’s come up in the decade or so I’ve been in this pack.”
“Your first wolf, huh?” She gave him a hard slap on each ass cheek in case he’d
forgotten why she was there.
The corner of his lips pulled up, and when she confirmed it was a grin, not a
grimace, she did it again and licked the heated flesh some more.
“Would you let me do that to you?” he asked.
“What, spank me?”
“No. Lick you.”
“I could talk you through it.”
“Don’t trust me to figure it out on my own?”
“I’m just bossy that way. Turns me on to be the one leading the dance. See?” She
straddled one of his large thighs and lowered her slick crotch to it, spreading her
arousal against his skin.
“Mmm, I see.”
 “I’m an aberration. Do you understand that? I’m not supposed to be like this. It’s
not becoming of a female wolf.”
“I guess I’m an aberration, too. For liking it.”
“Do you?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Roll over for me. I know something else you might like.” She eased off his legs,
and he carefully rolled. His long, thick shaft curled enticingly against his belly, and
she took it into her fist. “I don’t know what happened to you before you ended up in
Norseton—”
He blew out a breath and rolled his gaze to the ceiling.
“But it’s in the past now, right?”
“Some things leave scars you can’t see. You only feel the pain when someone
pokes at them.”
“And I poked at them.”
He shrugged.
“Don’t shrug. Tell me, so I don’t detonate another land mine. That’s why you’ve
been avoiding me, right? Because I poked one of your scars?”
She unhanded his cock to let him answer unimpeded.
His Adam’s apple bobbed noticeably as he swallowed again and again, and he
pressed his lips into a hard, flat line, as if the taste in his mouth had suddenly gone
sour and it took all the willpower he had to keep down the reflux.
She could tell him that it was okay, and not to worry about it, but it wasn’t okay.
She was used to slowly pushing the limits of her partners in and out of the bedroom,
and knew that at some point, there was a place that they both had to break through,
whether it be his pain, or some secret confession. She could push Colt further and
further to test his tolerance for extremes, but when it came to talking about important
things, he was a novice. She’d have to lead by example.
She lay atop him and propped her chin on his chest, looking down at his face.
He slung his arm across her back—tentatively, it seemed. He likely didn’t
understand what was going on, but he shouldn’t have. There was no real rhyme or
reason to it—a far less structured situation than Lisa would have liked, but that
seemed to be their norm. Him less focused, her more direct, but both capable of
getting things done.
“A few months ago, I had resigned myself to never having kids or a family of my
own, because I didn’t want to perpetuate this wolf shit. I’ve been cynical about it for a
long time, but I got to a point where I thought, fuck it.”
“But you answered the mate call. Did you do that just for your sisters?”
“Yes.”
“Last-ditch effort?”
“I guess it was, and that wasn’t fair for either of us. I came in here assuming that
it’d be like everywhere else, and that Alpha wouldn’t know what he was doing—that
he wouldn’t be a good enough emissary of the goddess, and wouldn’t know how to
make a good match. He knows, though. Adam’s a damn good alpha—a true alpha.”
“He is.”
“Once I accepted that, it was easier for me to put my hesitations aside.”
“About what?”
“About being someone’s mate. About…making a family within the pack, and not
just bringing my own family here.”
“You want a family?”
“Do you?”
“I haven’t given it much thought. I’d guess that none of the guys had. I don’t think
we made an automatic mental leap from mate to children.”
“You were just thinking about the convenient sex.”
His bark of laughter nearly vibrated her right off his chest. “Sex, and maybe some
help around the house. We’re a bit hopeless, if you haven’t noticed.”
“I noticed,” she muttered.
“But that makes us about even, right? You didn’t want a mate so much as
someplace to better to go. Is that a fair assessment?”
“It is, but that’s how so many of these wolf pairings are. No better than arranged
marriages, really, and sometimes the couple never really clicks. I want a little more
than that if I have to do it.”
He drummed his fingers along her side, tickling her ribs and starting her squirming
atop him. “Seriously? A hard-ass like you is ticklish?”
She swatted his hand away. “I’m sure you have ticklish spots. Make sure I never
find them, or I’ll make your life hell.”
“You’ve already gotten off to a good start doing that.”
She slapped a hand over his mouth and narrowed her eyes at him. “Quit
distracting me. You have something you wanted to tell me. About your scars.” She
raised the edge of her hand a bit to let him talk.
 His long, ragged exhalation heated the backs of her fingers.
She set down her hand.
“When you called me wolf, it reminded me of when I got cast out of my pack.
That’s what the new alpha called me. What he called everyone he thought was
beneath him, really.”
“Also all the wolves he thought would be a threat.”
“I guess I never thought about it that way, but the semantics don’t change the way
we were treated—like we were garbage. He didn’t care if we lived or died. This was a
guy whose own kids grew up with a lot of the ones he pitched out. Their friends.”
“Where are his children now, though?”
“I—” Colt pressed his lips together on the thought and furrowed his brow. He’d
apparently not given it any thought before that moment. “I imagine the two girls are
still there. The boys, though…” He let the words trail off, as if to think.
“Gone, like you?”
“I bet one got sent away. He was eight or nine years younger than me when I left.
He was never going to be an alpha—didn’t have the right energy for it, or the build—
but even back then, he was a kid who questioned everything. Intelligent, but not so
strong. I’d bet good money he grew up to be a pain in his father’s ass.”
“Hmm.” And maybe just the right age for one of my sisters.
“I bet I could find him. If there’s any wolf who’d try to integrate into human
society, I think it’d be him.”
“Would he come here?”
“I don’t see the harm in trying to convince him. I will, if you want. He might be
skeptical hearing from me after all this time, though.”
“But you’d do it?”
“If it’d make your wolf less angry at my wolf, then yes.”
Lisa poked out her chin. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
He let out another bark of laughter, and without the smarmy, conceitedness she’d
encountered in him at first, it was a sound that sent a shiver of awareness down her
spine and made her sex clench. Not every wolf could be alpha, but it was hard to deny
that Colt had the makings of one. He commanded attention just by walking into a
room, as did all the male wolves in Norseton. She understood why an insecure leader
would feel threatened by the likes of them.
“I really don’t,” she said.
 He shook his head and laced his fingers behind it. “Weird gift of mine, I guess.
Most wolf men who could be alpha can sense how strong another werewolf is, but I
can sometimes connect with that wolf part of people and suss them out. Usually, the
wolf and person are in sync. I’ve got to know the person for a while to be sure of that,
though.”
“You think my wolf is angry?”
“I think your wolf is a lot like her person.”
“So you think I’m angry, then.”
“Not at the moment. Right now, your inner wolf is…content.”
She checked in with herself. Am I content?
Well, she definitely wasn’t afraid or anxious. She was worried about her family,
sure, but she thought she had a good plan for handling that—or at least a start to one.
She was probably a lot less anxious now than she’d been in a very long time. And in
her, anxiety almost always morphed into anger. People without options knew that all
too well.
“I’m definitely making my way toward content. I’ll concede that.” She pushed up
onto her hands and knees and bent, skimming her lips across his.
He grinned as her tongue traced the seam of his mouth.
“Don’t move a muscle, or this stops,” she said.
“Can I move my lips?”
“Only when I tell you to.”
“Okay.”
She crawled slowly to the head of the bed and, knelt beside him. She stared down
at him, teasing him with her grin and tugging her aching nipples between her fingers.
A low, strangled noise rattled from his throat, but he didn’t move.
“Good boy.” She inched one hand down her belly and dragged her tongue over her
lips. When she parted her lower lips between two fingers, he made that noise again.
“Am I wet? You can talk.”
“Gods, yes.”
“And what should I do about it?”
He opened his mouth and formed his lips into the shape of some word, but closed
them before pushing it out.
“Changed your mind?”
 “You should do what whatever you like.”
“I like that answer.” It probably wasn’t the first one that came to mind. His cock
was hard and dripping with his arousal, so the obvious first response would have been
something in the realm of, “fuck me.”
And she would.
Just not yet.
“I’ll tell you what I’d like to do. First, I’d like to find some good, strong rope that
even a wolf like you couldn’t break through. I’m good at knots. I’d tie you to that
column in the living room with your hands behind your back and your feet spread far,
and then I’ll tease you until you think you’ll die from it. How’s that sound?”
He opened his mouth, but she slipped the fingers she’d used to reveal herself to
him between his lips. He sucked them clean. She didn’t really want an answer.
“I bet you’d get so hard while I whipped you. You’d be begging for the lashes and
I’d be so pleased with you that I’d get on my knees in front of you and suck you off.
How’s that sound?”
Again, she didn’t really want an answer. Before he could formulate one, she
straddled his head backward and eased down onto his face. “Move your lips, Colton.
You have my permission.”
He started unlacing his hands from behind his head but seemed to think better of it
at the last second. He was obviously a fast learner. He molded his lips around her clit
and gave it a tentative tug.
“You can use the rest of your mouth, too.”
“Mmm.” Lips, teeth, tongue. He used them all to gently probe and taste, working
his tongue between her folds and spearing her as she rose slightly and descended onto
his mouth again and again.
She pressed her hands to his belly and eased herself down to rest atop him,
bringing his cock to her lips.
“Fuck,” he murmured, before resuming his task.
She wrapped her fingers tightly around his shaft and licked everything that wasn’t
in her fist before giving his cock a few teasing tugs.
“Want to use my hands,” he said.
“No hands. Work with what you’ve got.”
He growled, but speared her more aggressively with his tongue, as if to make her
regret her choice. Of course, she wouldn’t.
She pulled him far into her mouth and let the tip of his cock brush her throat,
rasping her teeth along the delicate flesh.
“Gods.” He seemed to be in a retaliatory mood, as he nipped one of her lips before
lashing his tongue against it to soothe the sting.
“You’ll pay for that.”
“Yes, make me pay.”
She moistened a finger and slipped it past his perineum and just into his anus.
“Fuuuu…”
She sat more heavily on his face to muffle his protest, and chuckled while she
pleasured him with her mouth and teased with her finger. She was pleased at how
trusting he was. Already, her imagination flooded with scenarios designed to test his
limits, and hers. There would be times she wouldn’t want to play—when she’d just
want to make love—but even that required some negotiation. All sex did. Sometimes
it was silent, but conscientious lovers always paid attention to it—looked for it.
Lisa let him fall from her mouth and turned to crawl to his side. “Do you want
me?” she whispered.
He tracked his tongue across his wet lips. “I think you know the answer to that.”
“Say it.”
“I—I want to be inside you.”
She laid on her back and made a come-hither gesture. “Show me.”
“Mmm.”
He settled between her legs and wrapped them around his waist as his gaze
tracked down her body. “All mine.”
“I think that’s usually the way it works.”
“I hear it’s supposed to work both ways.”
“That’s what the vows we took said, but,” she shrugged, “you can never tell with
werewolf men. I think sometimes, they consider those vows to be mere suggestions.”
“I don’t. Why bother taking them otherwise?” He pointed his shaft toward her
entrance and pushed some air through clenched teeth as he breached her. “Gods.
That’s fucking beautiful.”
She tightened her legs around his waist and pulled him down for a kiss. “And I’ll
be here every day.”
“You promise?” He rocked his hips and a low, rumbling growl vibrated in his
chest when she clenched around his shaft. “You’ll always be here when I come
home?”
 “Yes.”
He pulled out almost all the way and growled some more as he reseated himself.
“You’ll want to see me? Won’t tell me to leave?”
“I’ll want to see you, Colton. You can come home. I won’t make you feel like it’s
not your home. This is—” She put her head back and waited for that first, encroaching
wave of pleasure to retreat. His girth, the friction against her nipples, and the slight
abrading of her clit would likely send her toppling over the edge sooner than she’d
wanted, but maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. He needed it. “I’m home now, too.
We should—we should both be here.”
“Yes. And you’ll keep me from fucking up?”
“Give yourself some credit. I think you know what to do.”
“I do now.” He leaned in and captured her lips, teasingly distracting her with his
probing tongue and playful bites as he increased the speed of his thrusts. Filling her so
completely, again and again, until the pressure was just too much and she shouted out
his name on the tail end of some swears.
“Feels so good, Lisa, so—fuck.” His hands tightened in her hair for a moment
before he self-corrected and clenched the sheets instead. “Won’t hu-hurt you.” He
stroked deeper, and his handsome features contorted that mask of pain that belied the
actual pleasure he must have been feeling.
His cock pulsed inside her as his seed surged, and he nestled his face onto the
pillow next to her head, breathing hard. After he’d caught his breath, he said, “You on
top next time. I prefer it.”
She giggled, and gently raked her fingers down his broad back. “You gonna make
me do all the work?”
“I’d rather you just tell me what to do.”
“Most men don’t want to be topped from the bottom. Bruises their pride.”
“No one has to know.” He pushed up onto his forearms and furrowed his brow.
“Right?”
“Right. It’s no one’s business but ours.”
 EPILOGUE

A month later, while waiting for a phone call from Alpha, Lisa paced on the patio
and wrung her hands. She must have passed by the screen door one time too many,
because Colt called out, “Babe, sit.”
She sighed, stomped through the living room, and plopped onto the sofa beside
him. He didn’t even look away from his video game—just shook his head. They’d
been teaching each other a little something about work-life balance. Lisa was driven
to work nonstop, and felt guilty if she didn’t. Colt felt like he was always playing
catch-up, and that he owed something to the pack now, so he had been putting in way
too many fourteen-hour days. Upon waking that morning, Lisa had rolled toward him
—he’d come home in the middle of the night and collapsed into bed without her
hearing him—and said, “Let’s be irresponsible today.” They’d gone back to sleep for
a couple of hours, and then they did an activity in bed that was a bit more active than
sleeping, so they’d finally rolled out of their respective bedsides at around eleven. But
without work to do, Lisa was restless. Her sisters were coming, and she’d never been
so nervous before.
Colt obviously cleared his game level, because he gave a little fist-pump of
jubilation and set down his controller. “Been trying to beat this fucking game for six
months. It’s been an obsession. I’m happy it’s dead now. Shit.” He looped an arm
around her shoulders and pulled her close.
He smelled so nice—like coffee and wolf and soap. She wanted to make a nest
right there on his lap, but she resisted. One thing would lead to another, and he’d end
up on his knees watching her stretch a cock ring, and she’d go into that headspace
where she paid attention to nothing else but the man in front of her, for as long as he
needed it.
“Are you sure your sisters will be okay with sharing a room for the time being?”
All of the wolf houses were pretty compact, and that was by design. They had
needed to be constructed quickly. They all had lots picked out elsewhere on the
property given to them by the Afótama to build larger homes when they were ready,
but at the moment, it wasn’t a pressing concern. They would probably have to give it
more thought in the spring.
 “They’ll be fine,” she said. “They’ll be happy to just be away from—”
Lisa’s phone chirped, and she bolted upright.
“Answer it, babe.”
“Okay.” She swallowed hard.
It chirped again.
“You a coward now? For real?”
“Okay. Shit.” She answered, and Adam said a lot of words. The only important
ones were that he and his sisters were in the community, and that he was buying them
coffee—and that he’d brought some tag-alongs.
“They showed up,” she said, and set down the phone. “They were there at the
airport, waiting. I don’t know who arranged it.”
“Who?” Colt furrowed his brow, but Lisa knew that faux confusion all too well. It
was the same look he wore when he was trying to earn himself a flogging.
She narrowed her eyes at him. He was so up to something. “Your old alpha’s son.
The one you said probably got expelled?”
Colt sat up a little straighter and pushed up an eyebrow. “Yeah? Did he?”
“Apparently, and fairly recently.”
“Who else was there? You said they.”
“Christina’s brother. I guess someone got word to him, too. Adam says he’s
squirrelly. Has been on his own for a while.”
“Anton and Darius will probably take him under their wings. Want to hop in the
golf cart and go meet them?”
“Dying to.”
“Figured you would be. Give me one more sloppy kiss before we go, though. Who
knows when I’ll get to do that again in my own living room?”
“Shush.” She gave him the kiss, smiling as she did it. “And don’t play dumb. You
found those wolves.”
He chuckled and scooped her up. “Maybe I did. I work hard when I need to, don’t
I?”
“You do.” He proved that again and again. It just went to show that Alpha was
right all along. She was the woman Colt needed, and as much so, he was the man
she’d wanted. It was a damned sad state of affairs when a wolf assumed that her alpha
was useless, and that he’d pair her with a weak man. Wolf culture needed work
—change—but she could only do her small part. It started in her home, with her mate,
and her family.
Already, her outlook was so much better.
 SCION
Werewolf Ashley Madeira’s father wants her to accept a mate within their New Jersey
pack, but Ashley knows such an arrangement is doomed to fail. She flees to a strange,
new pack in New Mexico to become mate to a random wolf, but as it turns out—her
would-be husband is no stranger.

Vic Carbone was ousted from his birthpack as teen along with his parents, and along
with the other Norseton Wolves, has spent years on the road living hand to mouth. He
can’t believe his old alpha’s daughter would be so clueless about the strife he caused
the Carbones. She may be blameless, but he hates everything she stands for.

Old grudges form a seemingly insurmountable wedge between the Madeiras and
Carbones, but the wolf goddess will only grant Vic and Ashley with perfect mates
once. If they’re to have a hopeful future in the Norseton pack, they must set aside the
insults of the past. It may take a small miracle for them to manage it.
 CHAPTER ONE

As Adam Carbone—the alpha of the Norseton wolfpack—paced in front of the

bench where Ashley Madeira and three other eligible mates waited, Ashley fretted.
Maybe I was too rash in coming here. Maybe I should have stuck it out at home.
She blew a quiet raspberry and nibbled on one of her manicured nails.
So stupid.
There were plenty of men back at home. After all, male werewolves were born at
a higher frequency than females. But because of the cultural tendency to cull strong
males from the pack, her available options were slim.
Had she been any other woman, she wouldn’t have lived to her age without being
given to some wolf her alpha deemed suitable. There would have been a riot—people
would have demanded that the man in charge chose someone for her.
Even at twenty-nine, there were still some perks to being a daddy’s girl, especially
if Daddy was also the alpha.
Even he couldn’t hold off any longer, though. He’d set a date to announce his
choice for her mate to the pack, and dread pushed Ashley to do the unthinkable. She’d
accepted an offer for a random match.
She’d never done anything so impulsive before. She was a think twice, act once
sort of woman, and recklessness frightened her, but she’d been in the right place at the
right time and jumped on an opportunity.
For reasons she didn’t know, her father almost never posted the mate calls that
other packs sent into the wolf network, but she happened to be in front of his
computer when one came through in his open email:
Need: 4
Wolf Type: Any
Pack Name: Inquire.
Pack Location: Inquire.
Contact: Leave message at 555-319-1512.

If Ashley hadn’t been so desperate, she would have disregarded that email for its
lack of information, but she couldn’t wait for another bulletin. She’d dialed the
number right then and there, and had been worried sick when she didn’t get an
immediate return call. Her father’s announcement date loomed closer, and as much as
she trusted him, she knew there was no way anyone in the pack could have been a
good match for her. If they had been, she certainly would have known already—she
would have felt the certainty in her gut. Intuition was one of the few advantages
female werewolves had.
She’d been in her bathroom losing her lunch from nerves when Adam finally
called back two days later.
“I can get you on a plane tomorrow morning,” he’d said. “Take it or leave it.
We’ve gotta act fast. We’re trying to get all four of you here at once, for privacy
reasons. I’m sure you understand.”
“I’ll take it!” She hadn’t even bothered giving it a second thought. She’d
scrambled to her feet and ran immediately toward the closet where she stored her
luggage. “I just—might need some help getting out of here. Don’t worry. I’ll figure it
out. Just tell me what to do.”
“Show up at the airport in Newark by five tomorrow morning and check in at the
Southwest counter. There’ll be a ticket for you there.”
“Great! Thanks. So, where am I heading?”
“Home, Ashley.”
He’d hung up, and she’d stood there reeling for a minute before she could get her
wits about her. She’d wanted to be out of town before her parents knew of her plans,
and she didn’t let herself over-think. She just moved.
“Home” had ended up being an isolated desert community in New Mexico called
Norseton. She’d been there barely twenty minutes and already, she sat on a bench
with three other mate call respondents, waiting for her new alpha to match her with
some wolf.
Stomach churning, Ashley leaned to the lady at her left—another East Coaster
whose name was Lisa—and whispered, “Tell me this was a good idea.”
Lisa gave her a slight nudge with her elbow and whispered back, “Of course it
was. There’s opportunity to make something here. I didn’t have that before. Did you?”
Ashley made some noise that sounded like half scoff and half sob. “The answer to
that depends on who you’d ask.”
Alpha passed by again, rubbing his chin as he scrutinized them.
Although Ashley’s father had rarely put out mate calls for his pack, but Ashley
was somewhat familiar with how they worked. She had a friend who’d answered one
and ended up with a pack in Colorado. Ashley had always hoped to join her there, but
obviously it hadn’t been in the cards. Alpha holds the cards now.
Her father had always been mysterious about it, but supposedly, he would consult
the wolf goddess for guidance on how to pair the mates with his wolves, and if the
goddess was feeling indulgent, she’d tell him who was compatible. Unfortunately, the
goddess wasn’t always communicative.
Ashley hoped the goddess was in a sharing mood, because the last thing she
needed was to have traveled such a long way only to be paired with some lousy jerk
who had no backbone. She could have found one of those sort with her eyes closed
back in Jersey.
Alpha looked over their heads, and she couldn’t help turning to learn what was
worth seeing. Three wolves waited in the shadows of the small adobe houses behind
them. Two dark-haired, one blond. One was missing.
She wouldn’t have turned any of the three that had bothered to show up out of her
bed, though. The men in the pack, Alpha included, were amongst the largest born
wolves she’d ever seen, and she knew grey wolves. The best she could tell, they
weren’t that.
Tapping her finger against her chin, she worked down the list of probable species.
It didn’t really matter, but she was certainly curious. She didn’t know any mixed
wolves. Mixing just wasn’t done in her old pack.
“Vic,” Alpha called. One of the dark-haired wolves pushed off the wall he was
holding up and, with hands jammed into the pockets of his loose-fitting jeans, strode
over.
The power radiating off him was familiar—like Alpha’s. When he was just inches
in front of her, she understood why. The men had the same strong jaw, the same tall
foreheads, and the same-shaped eyes, although Alpha’s were a deeper brown. Vic was
likely what Alpha had been twenty or thirty years before.
Alpha’s son.
Her counterpart. Her equal.
“Good luck.” Alpha gave Vic a hearty thump on the back before turning his
attention to his next match.
What did he mean by that? Alpha had been looking at Vic when he’d said it, as if
there was something wrong with her.
Is there something wrong with me?
Vic canted his head toward the nearest house and raked his hair back from his
face. “Let’s get your bags. I’ve got to be somewhere in an hour, so you’ll have to
forgive me for running right out.”
“Oh. Okay.” She stood slowly, looking to Lisa for reassurance.
Lisa gave her the thumbs-up signal.
Ashley cleared her throat, raised her head high, and tucked her purse under her
arm. “I have four bags. I guess my father will ship the rest of my things when I tell
him where I am.” Certainly he’d found her note and was probably preparing to send
his figurative dogs out to find her.
Vic pushed up one dark eyebrow and scoffed before starting for the house.
She followed. “What was the scoff for?”
“Most mates travel with a couple of suitcases and assume they’re starting from
scratch.”
“Yeah, well, I imagine most don’t have two nickels to rub together.”
“And whose fault is that?”
“Well, it’s—”
He pulled open the screen door, walked in, and let it slam closed in her face.
Her jaw fell open. Is this guy for real?
“Waiting on your answer. And which bags are yours?” he called out from inside.
She took a deep breath and closed her hands into fists at her sides. She wasn’t
going to let herself overreact—not yet. “The silver hard-shells. And I don’t understand
your question.”
He brought her suitcases out without another word, and dragged them briskly
down the path and around the courtyard connecting the five little houses.
She tottered after him, cursing the sweaty insoles of her espadrilles, and wishing
she’d dressed slightly more practically for a cross-country trip. She didn’t know why
she’d bothered dressing up for him. He’d barely even looked at her.
He shouldered open his unlocked door, set the suitcases inside, and gestured to the
inner sanctum. “Make yourself at home. I’ll be back in a few hours.”
“You’re really leaving?”
He shrugged. “I’ll be gone two hours, no more than three. I need to escort the
Afótama queen to a meeting.”
“The who?”
He crooked his thumb toward the town about half a mile down the dusty road.
“Our hosts are called Afótama. That’s all you really need to know about them. You’ll
be okay here.”
 “I’m sure I will be, but—”
He didn’t wait for her to spit it out. He was already around the corner before she
could think of anything else to stop him.
She snatched the strap of her heavy purse off her shoulder and tossed the bag to
the floor. Her toiletry bag tumbled out, spilling the jewelry she hadn’t wanted to put
into her checked baggage. She pawed through the mess, and made sure that all of her
necklaces were still there and that both pearl earrings had arrived unscathed. She
zipped the bag, nestled it back into her purse, and let out a manic little laugh.
“I think I gambled and lost. This has got to be some kind of joke.”
And if it was, either the goddess had a sick sense of humor, or her new alpha did.
She wasn’t sure which she preferred.
 CHAPTER TWO

Vic didn’t agree with his father on most things. If he had to be perfectly honest
about it, he’d have to admit they agreed on very little that didn’t have to do with the
pack. The generational divide made them view life through different lenses, but Vic
tried to at least understand where the man was coming from. His father was a damned
good alpha. No one could dispute that—especially not Vic—but the man seemed to
get way too many chuckles from making Vic’s life miserable on occasion. “You’re my
only son. It’s my prerogative,” he’d always say.
Apparently, his newest prerogative was to set Vic up for a lifetime of matrimonial
misery, and Vic couldn’t even rightfully bitch about it. His pop had always had a clear
connection on the goddess hotline, and if the wolf goddess thought that Vic’s mate
was the one who’d arrived reeking of some other alpha, Vic would suck it up.
Eventually, his mate’s scent—her father’s—would go away. The rest of the shit that
was wrong with her probably wouldn’t.
He knew her type—a pampered wolf, and from a pack with a reputation for
making trouble. He’d done his research on all the women, just in case, but had kept
his mouth shut so as not to make his pack fellows anxious. Every one of the four
women that answered the mate call his pop had put out had to be chock full o’
neuroses, but none like the coddled wolf princess in his house at the moment. He just
bet that while he was out doing his job, she’d gone through his house and itemized
every little thing that didn’t meet her exacting needs.
Probably with her nose turned up.
She was going to be in for a huge shock if she thought he had any desire
whatsoever to subsidize her former lifestyle. Her father could send all the money he
wanted, but if Vic didn’t like how she was spending it, he wasn’t going to be quiet.
Too many alphas got their wealth from the dues they collected from the members of
their pack. That money was supposed to pay into a salary of sorts, but it was also
supposed to go back into the pack’s coffers to pay for community benefits. More often
than not, though, alphas collected more and more money each year to maintain the
lifestyle they’d become accustomed to, and none of the dues trickled back down.
He couldn’t help but to take it personally. When his father had been expelled from
his birthpack along with his mother and a young Vic, the expulsion had not only been
about his father’s threatening power, but about his resistance to paying more dues.
Life on the road wasn’t an ideal situation for any child—wolf or human—and
after nearly two decades without a place to belong, Vic and his pack had finally found
a permanent home. A territory for a bunch of unwanted, could-be alpha wolves. A
different kind of pack.
Not like Ashley’s.
He stepped into the house via the garage door at around eight and found Ashley at
the kitchen counter dipping a teabag into a mug.
He didn’t drink tea, but he recognized the scent. It was that stuff his mom blended
and bagged herself.
Fuckin’ great. Mom’s been here. He hit the light switch in the garage and closed
the door behind him.
“So,” she said. “I’m Ashley, by the way.”
“Yeah. I know.” He knew everything he thought he needed to know about her
already.
“All right, then.” She tossed the teabag into the sink and walked past him, sipping
that cloyingly sweet brew.
His mom said it was good for nerves, but the powerful smell had always upset his
stomach. He flicked the bag down the drain and chased it with some water as he let
the garbage disposal do away with it.
“I’m a full moon shifter, by the way,” she said from the sofa and took a long sip of
the tea.
“I’m aware of what you are.” And who you are.
“Well, that’s good. Seems like you know far more about me than I do about you,
though. Mrs. Carbone would only say so much. She said we’d have plenty of time to
chat before the ceremony tomorrow morning.”
“Right. The ceremony. How could I possibly forget?” That was the way it always
went. The women got their mates’ bites, which not only activated their ability to
shapeshift into their wolf selves, but also changed their scents. They’d smell like their
mates, and it’d be clear to any other male wolf that they were taken. Very soon after
receiving their bites, most mated pairs were legally married. Not all bothered with the
paperwork nowadays, but Vic’s mother would certainly insist on it. She was a bit old-
fashioned.
“Ask your questions,” he said. “You want to know something, ask it outright.”
“You have a problem with friendly conversation? My, this’ll be a gold star
relationship, for sure.”
He rolled his eyes. “I don’t have a problem with conversation. I just don’t believe
in beating around the bush. Speak pointedly. I assure you that you won’t hurt my
feelings.”
“Fine.” She shrugged, and leaned back against the sofa cushions, bringing the
teacup to her lips for a long sip. “You seemed disturbed by my presence here. I just
want to know why.”
“Okay.” He leaned his forearms onto the counter and steepled his fingers. “I asked
you to speak pointedly, so I’ll do the same.”
She kept on sipping that tea, probably hoping she’d be a changed woman by the
time she made it to the bottom of her cup. He wouldn’t hold his breath.
“I know about you. All four of you. When Dad approved the call responses, I was
the one who did the background checks on you.”
“Obviously, whatever you found couldn’t have been so awful if you let me come
anyway.”
“I hoped you’d be some other wolf’s problem.”
Her mouth opened, but no words came out immediately. She set down her teacup
and folded her hands atop her lap. “I—wow. That wasn’t very nice. Why would you
say that?”
Seriously? He’d warned her that he was all about simple truths, so she shouldn’t
have been surprised.
“I’m not a problem.”
“Aren’t you? You going to tell me your hands are clean of all the dirty shit your
father cooked up for your old pack?”
Her bright eyes went from round as saucers to dark, narrowed slits as she slowly
shook her head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. You might as well be
speaking in code.”
“Of course you don’t. You don’t know anything about anything, I’m sure, exactly
the way your father probably wanted.”
“I’m not sure what it is you think we did, but whatever it is, it has to be imagined
on your part. My father never broke any laws.”
Vic entwined his fingers again and again, and stared at her. Seriously?
She obviously believed that. That doe-eyed expression and wan complexion
hinted to her being stunned, but he didn’t understand how she could possibly be. A
woman of twenty-nine wouldn’t have been so clueless about her pack’s modus
operandi. Vic’s little pack never made itself out to be anything but what it was—a
group of unwanted losers who made their money doing dirty work. More often than
not, they were on the right moral footing, even if they weren’t on the right side of the
law. Ashley’s pack, though—there was no way to ignore what its leaders did. Too
many people went missing, too many assets mishandled…too many wolves out in the
streets, being turned away with empty hearts and empty pockets.
His father probably had his reasons for not telling Vic that Ashley was from their
old pack before he’d run the checks. They’d been expelled along with all the other
Eurasian wolves that had found safety in the group for so long. Maybe Pop had hoped
—like Vic—that Ashley would go to Anton, Darius, or Colt, and the Carbones could
pretend they didn’t know nothing about nothing.
Funny how the Fates work.
“Let’s just get this out of the way, shall we?” he asked. Might as well get it over
with. Once mates showed up in response to a call, they rarely left, and if she was
going to play dumb, he’d humor her.
“The bite, you mean.”
“Yep.”
She pushed the mug farther back on the overturned milk crate he used as a
makeshift coffee table and fisted the hem of her T-shirt.
He shoved away from the counter and made his way slowly out of the kitchen and
through the living room.
Her breathing sped, and cheeks glowed red as he approached. She may have
finished the tea, but his wolf sense of smell said her adrenaline level was through the
roof. She might have been still and feigned calmness, but he could read her fear—her
tentativeness.
He wasn’t sure what she was expecting from him, but pissed though he was, he’d
never hurt her. He might hurt her feelings, but that was to be expected given the
Carbones’ history with the Madeira-led wolfpack.
He grated his back molars as he stared at her. The dark, glossy hair swept over one
shoulder, the full, pouty lips currently pressed into a tight line, the curious grey eyes
that held a glint of terror.
He might have been suspicious of her, but she was afraid of him. Hell of a way to
start a relationship, but it was the hand they were dealt. He’d wanted a mate, and had
agreed it was time for them to put out the call, but after the life he’d had, he’d really
hoping for a mate he didn’t have to work so hard to get along with. Ashley was the
worst possible scenario.
 He let his incisors extend into his mouth, and before she had a chance to flinch,
lifted her shirt and sank his teeth into the unmarred flesh over her high, taut breast.
And then he drew back, pressing her hand to her shirt hem for her to hold it out of
the way of the blood.
He passed his tongue over his teeth as they receded into his gums and watched her
expression shift from pain to curiosity to…
Nope. Not sticking around for that.
He strode to the patio door and slid it open. “If you feel like you’re going to shift
tonight, come on out. Make sure you take off your clothes when it starts, or I’ll have
to cut them off you to get you out of the tangle.”
“Don’t feel like you have to do me any favors.”
“I’m not. Don’t worry.” He closed the screen door. Bare minimum was the way he
was going to do it. He’d keep her confused wolf-self from flinging herself into any
canyons, but beyond that, she was on her own.
He started around the path to his parents’ house. Obviously, they needed to have a
family meeting.
 CHAPTER THREE

Ashley didn’t remember much about what had happened after Vic bit her besides
the fact that she’d been incredibly horny and things were kind of hazy. The horniness
wasn’t surprising. She couldn’t have lived to be twenty-nine without knowing at least
from hearsay what happened after a female wolf took her mate’s bite. Given the
hormone surge activated by her mate’s enzymes, it wasn’t unheard of that she’d want
to do her part in marking him, too. Her sex would mix up his scent just as his bite had
done to hers.
But, he’d bounced. He’d left the house like he had fire in his pants and didn’t
come back, as far as she could remember.
She must have shifted sometime after he bit her, but she couldn’t remember it.
She’d woken up nude, curled into fetal position at the back door, and Vic had been in
the kitchen—dressed, shaved, and staring at her through the glass as he sipped his
coffee.
She’d stomped to the shower, and as she scrubbed the desert dust out of her hair,
she cursed him up, down, and sideways.
“Fucking savage.” She tossed a twig from her hair over the shower curtain. “I
could have stayed back east and endured this crap. What the hell is wrong with me? I
should have walked away the moment he looked at me like garbage. Daddy would
have found way to get me home. Daddy would have—”
She stopped scrubbing and let her gaze fix on the gray water swirling around the
shower drain.
Vic had said awful things about her father. He’d accused him of being dirty—of
treating his wolves badly. Why would he think that? Or rather, what had he learned
during his so-called background checks? Her father had done his fair best to keep
Ashley out of the loop on pretty much all wolfpack concerns. She wasn’t exactly
sheltered, but in hindsight, there was no specific thing about the pack’s business she
could speak intelligently on.
She resumed her scrubbing and turned to let the hot water strike her sore back.
Evidently, as a wolf, she’d used muscles she didn’t even know she’d had.
“Could it be possible an outsider would know more about my pack than I do?”
 If they had a reputation, she wanted to know about it. She wanted to know what
people knew about her—the information she’d been shielded from.
She gave her hair one last rinse and nudged the water handle to the off position.
She’d never been a coward—or at least she liked to tell herself she wasn’t one. If
there was something going on back at home, she’d find out what it was and make
judgments for herself. She could certainly set aside her affection for her father to use
rational judgment and common sense. She would have bet that some of the biggest
monsters in history were kind to their daughters.
“Where are my suitcases?” She pulled her towel a bit tighter around her chest and
held her head up high as she faced Vic in the kitchen.
He eyed her up and down and warmed his hands around his coffee mug. He gave
her no words.
She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. Unbelievable. “I’m sure
you saw it all last night when I was writhing around out on the patio with no clothes
on. Thanks so much of bringing me indoors and out of the elements, jackass.”
He shrugged. “Best you get acclimated to it. There will probably be a lot of
evenings when you find yourself naked and outdoors.”
“Not if I can help it.”
“Well, you’d better get that wolf of yours reined in, then, because last night, you
were all over the place, sweetie. Me and my cousin chased you across half the damn
canyon, and let me tell you, the canyon isn’t so close to here.”
“Sorry for the inconvenience.” Asshole.
“Your suitcases are in the guest bedroom. First door on the left, down the hall.”
She turned on her heel and growled.
“The ceremonies are in half an hour. I guess you’ll need your birth certificate and
photo identification.”
“I’m surprised you still want to go through with it, given that you obviously
despise me.” She padded just inside the door of the guest room until she found the
light switch, and swatted it on. “Jerk.”
“Does that make you feel better?”
“What, calling you a jerk?” She laid the largest of her suitcases on its bottom and
popped the latches. She’d tried to pack everything important into those bags and had
fretted through both flight legs that she’d left things she’d intended to bring back in
her apartment. Her father could have her things packed up and shipped, but she wasn’t
sure she wanted to contact him just yet. She needed some time to figure out what was
what.
“Yes. Calling me names when you think I’m not in earshot. Your hearing will
improve, supposedly. I don’t hold out any hope that anything else about you will.”
“What is your fucking problem?” She rooted through the suitcase corner and found
clean underwear…which made her wonder where the ones she’d had on the night
before were.
“I’m hoping you won’t be a problem, but I’ve always been a realist.”
“Why did you even request a mate if you planned to be an insufferable shit to
her?”
“I didn’t plan on being an insufferable shit, believe it or not.”
“Sure.” She stood, let the towel fall, and flicked her wet hair over her shoulder.
Scowling, he ran his hand over the droplets on his face.
Ha.
She stepped into her panties and grabbed a maxi dress from the suitcase. “I don’t
need supervision. Go finish your coffee.”
“I think you do need supervision. Can’t trust what kind of trouble a Madeira will
get herself into when she thinks no one is looking.” He backed into the hallway and
bobbed his eyebrows. “But, hey. I’ll give you some space to tie your own noose.”
He walked away, and she stood there seething, and twisting her ninety-dollar dress
into a wrinkled mess.
What does he mean about Madeiras and trouble? “Hey! Come back here and
finish the discussion. If you’re going to talk shit, go ahead and spew it all at once.
You’ll feel better when you get it all out.”
She waited. Again, he made no response.
“Ugh!”
She stepped aggressively into her dress, and dropped to her knees to dig a pair of
sandals out of her suitcase. Then she remembered what she was dressing up for—a
wedding. She was about to marry that asshole.
Her second manic laugh in two days burst through her lips, and she gave her head
a shake. “This is what wolves do. Oh my god, this is what we do.”
Mates stayed together, in spite of their incompatibility, because they couldn’t
extricate their scents from each other. Reeking of some other wolf was a huge turnoff.
Besides that, everyone knew that mated pairs tended to behave more like business
partners than devoted lovers. No one really married for love. If she wanted love, she
couldn’t look to a wolf to get it.
 She drew in a long, bracing breath and wrung the top of her toiletry bag in her
hands. “I’m gonna have to marry him anyway. Fuck.”
She couldn’t go home. If she went home, her father would have no choice but to
pair her off with someone the day she arrived, and she wouldn’t have the luxury of
being choosy. She had another man’s bite.
We could probably postpone the wedding…
At least, perhaps, until they’d worked out their enmity between each other, but it
seemed pointless to her. She had a little money to live on her own for a while if she
needed it, but when that was gone, there would be no replenishment unless she called
her father. She couldn’t let her father know what why she needed it. There’d be
questions, and she already had too many of her own already.
She pulled herself up using the dresser’s edge and let out a breath. “I’m so
screwed.” Yet, she didn’t even understand what the contention was, and Vic didn’t
seem particularly forthcoming about sharing.
In thirty minutes, she was going to become Ashley Carbone, and the wife of a
wolf who probably wouldn’t even spit on her if she was on fire and there was no other
water around.
She tossed the makeup into her suitcase and pushed her hair back from her face.
“Why bother?”
He didn’t give a shit, so neither would she. And if he as going to give her hell,
she’d do the same. She was used to getting what she wanted.
She just wasn’t so sure what it was she should be wanting, but she’d figure it out
soon. Hopefully before she shapeshifted again for the evening and woke up the next
day alone, wondering which way was up.
 CHAPTER FOUR

Ashley would likely look back and remember the most amusing part of her
wedding being her new mother-in-law scolding Vic about his inability to dress
himself properly for the event. Leather and denim did not make much of a suit, but
damned if he didn’t look fine in it. He was tall and broad, and just oozed sex appeal,
even with his seemingly permanent scowl.
Gods forbid that he smile.
The second most memorable thing would likely end up being Vic going off to
confer in hushed tones with his father while new brides Ashley, Lisa, and Stephanie
huddled in the Town Square gazebo ogling each other’s rings. Ashley’s rings were
nice enough. Better than she had expected, actually, given her and Vic’s coolness
toward each other, but they weren’t distracting enough to keep her from wondering
what Vic and Alpha were discussing, and whether it concerned her specifically.
The redhead, Stephanie, gave Ashley’s shoulder a little squeeze. When Ashley
turned her attention to her, the other woman pointed across the square to Main Street.
“We’re going to explore. Let the guys entertain themselves for a while. We need to get
our bearings in this place.”
“Right. Sure.” Ashley cut her gaze back to the Carbone men, who were now
casting inscrutable looks toward her.
She’d never been the paranoid sort, but old dogs learned new tricks all the time.
Mrs. Carbone swooped into the gazebo, snapped her camera’s lens cap on, and
looked at each woman in turn. “I’m gonna go see what happened to Christina and
Anton. You got my number if you need anything?”
The three new brides all pulled cell phones from their purses and waited for Mrs.
Carbone to relay the number.
As Ashley, Lisa, and Stephanie started for the business district, Ashley took a look
back. The Carbone men had dispersed, along with the other two wolf men, and were
nowhere to be found—just that quickly.
“Efficient,” she muttered.
“That’s not a bad thing,” Lisa said. “Trust me. It’s better that they get moving than
to stand around shooting the shit all day, whether it’s their day off or not.”
“What do they even do for a living? Mrs. Carbone wouldn’t say.”
“I have no idea,” Stephanie said. “Darius isn’t much of a talker.”
“I think they provide security to the people who run this place,” Lisa said.
The women waited at the corner for the light to change and watched a few higher-
end vehicles pass in front of them.
Ashley grunted in appreciation. Norseton wasn’t very big, but the residents
seemed to be well heeled, at least. The best she could tell, the oldest buildings in the
community were around a hundred years old, and the newer structures were built in
concentric rings around them like most smartly planned cities. It expanded outward,
rather than new buildings popping up here and there and sprawl happening unfettered.
The wolf housing was situated about an eight-minute walk from the center of
downtown, but that seemed practical. Packs needed room to run, and while Ashley’s
pack had been pretty urban, they had access to undeveloped areas whenever they had
to shift for the full moon.
Norseton seemed to be an ideal place for a pack that had some wolves who had to
shift, and some who shifted by choice. Mrs. Carbone said the wolves and Norseton
fell into the latter group, and that had floored Ashley. She’d known such wolves
existed, but couldn’t remember ever having encountered any personally. Her father
had always spoken of them with suspicion, and now she was in their lair—married to
one.
They crossed the street, and Ashley pointed to the coffee shop. “Can we start
there? I need caffeine to be able to make sense of my lot in life. I didn’t have time this
morning.”
Lisa snorted. “Your lot in life seems pretty simple to me. You’re a full-fledged
werewolf married to the pack alpha’s son.”
“Put that way, it sounds like a fairytale.” If only it were.
The three women stepped into the shop and got into a line that was nearly out the
door. It wasn’t quite nine o’clock, so half the community was probably still waiting to
get its caffeine fix.
“From where I’m standing, you’re pretty lucky.” Stephanie bent and peered into
the glass case containing bagels and pastries. Ashley had to admit they looked pretty
good. The Afótama clan may have lived in the middle of nowhere, but they obviously
took their breakfast carbs seriously.
“How so?”
“Well, you not only get a mate, but also in-laws. The rest of us are completely
lacking in the family department here.”
“Some of us might say that’s a good thing,” Stephanie muttered and pointed out a
lemon Danish to the clerk.
Ashley twirled some of her hair around her fingers and let her gaze flit between
the crullers and the cinnamon rolls. “I happen to like the family I had back at home.”
“Me, too,” Lisa said. “My parents are the sweetest wolves you’ll ever meet.”
“Sweet?” Stephanie scoffed and turned to the clerk again. “Can I get a really big
black coffee? Thanks.”
They all moved a bit closer to the register.
“They’re not typical wolves, that’s for sure,” Lisa said. “But neither are pure. That
probably has something to do with it. They’re probably a lot less inbred than some
others in the pack.”
Ashley cringed, and put in her order for a dry cappuccino. She’d heard the
whispers and jokes about her pack and how insular it was. She’d always thought there
wasn’t much they could do about that. If they wanted wolf children, they had to take
wolf mates.
“There you are.” At the sound of the newcomer’s voice, they all turned to find
Mrs. Carbone in the shop’s doorway with mate number four, Christina, under her
wing. She gave the timid, smaller woman a squeeze around her shoulders. “I figured
you’d start here and make your way around, but I caught your scents. That verified it
for me. I’m going to show you all what’s what around here. Need clothes? Groceries?
Voter registration? I’ll show you everything.”
“I wish I’d had someone like you on my first day of college,” Lisa said.
Stephanie chuckled and scooped her dish up from the counter. “Seriously. I was
hopeless.”
They went to college?
Lisa let out a dry chuckle and bobbed her eyebrows at them as they departed for a
table.
Higher education hadn’t been on Ashley’s radar during much of her childhood.
Her parents hadn’t explicitly dissuaded her from aspiring to it, but they hadn’t exactly
been cheerleaders for it, either. Maybe they’d suspected she wouldn’t be able to get
into a good school. And whose fault is that?
Ashley ground her back teeth and slid a ten-dollar bill to the clerk. “Keep the
change, okay?”
As she navigated through the tight tables, she wondered how things might have
been different if she’d grown up outside a wolf community and gone to school with
people who weren’t wolves. What would I have learned? Maybe nothing different. I’m
just being paranoid. I would have learned the exact same things, probably.
Unconvinced, she gnawed at her bottom lip as she sank into the seat Lisa pushed
out for her.
“What’s wrong?” Stephanie asked. “You look confused.”
Ashley straightened her spine and put on a smile for her fellow mate. “Nah, I’m
okay. Just thinking about pack stuff.”
“This pack?”
“Well, no. Other packs, like my old one.”
“What kind of stuff?” Lisa asked through a mouthful of bagel.
“It’s nothing, really, just…” Letting the words trail off, Ashley stirred her spoon
through the foamy top of her drink and watched the tiny bubbles pop. “What was it
like for you? Did you go to a pack school?” She looked up to see both Stephanie and
Lisa shaking their heads.
“Up until I was sixteen, I grew up with my human mom away from my dad’s
pack,” Stephanie said. “When he made me move in with him and enrolled me at the
school most of the pack kids attended, I ended up placing out of it. It’s not that I’m a
genius at all, but most of the kids in the pack school were way behind.”
“In my case, the pack just wasn’t organized enough to pull all the kids into one
school,” Lisa said. “I’m sure they would have, if they could’ve, just to carry the
brainwashing over into yet another institution.”
“Brainwashing?” Ashley said it in a whisper, as if the concept wasn’t meant to be
discussed in polite company. “What do you mean?”
Stephanie scoffed. “It was like night and day, my educational experiences. So
much in the wolf school was bare minimum—about knowing our places in the pack.”
“Society, you mean?”
“No, the pack, because that’s supposed to be the only society a wolf knows.”
Ashley found that hard to believe. Wolves can’t be productive citizens of the world
if…
She brought her coffee to her lips and sipped. The realization burned her heart
more than the scalding hot beverage did her tongue.
She wasn’t a productive citizen of the world. Up until she’d responded to the mate
call, she was barely even a productive member of her own household. Whatever her
parents didn’t handle for her, the household staff they’d hired for her when she’d
moved into her apartment did. She’d thought she’d had agency and freedom, but
really—and it pained her to realize it—she’d never had room to make even simple
choices on her own. She’d gone from her parents’ house to the care of people being
paid by her parents, then straight to her new husband’s house. She didn’t know what it
meant to be independent. She may have been nearly thirty, but out in the real world,
she was practically a baby.
At the sharp rap against the plate glass window nearby, she jumped—her sense of
hearing amplified since receiving her bite. Everything was louder and smelled more
pungent, too. She clutched at her rapidly beating heart as she turned to the window,
only to find her mate standing on the other side.
Now, her heart seemed to stop, and her stomach dropped. That face he was
making was unquestionable. He found her abhorrent, and she was so confused that
she wasn’t sure if she was supposed to be returning the sentiment.
He crooked two fingers at her in a come here gesture, and she swallowed hard.
That feeling she always got when she was certain she was about to be grounded
for doing some stupid thing came rushing at her like a freight train.
She was so still—frozen there in her seat—that he knocked again and waved her
out, his eyes narrowed and brow furrowed.
“You’d better go see what he wants.” Lisa tipped her head, indicating the citizens
in the room behind them. “The locals are watching.”
Ashley risked a glance over her shoulder to confirm that they indeed were. They
didn’t seem hostile, just curious. Too curious, in her opinion. She was used to doing
things behind closed doors.
She pushed back from the table and hitched her purse up to her shoulder. “He
probably forgot to tell me something. Like where he was going, or whatever.”
“Probably so.”
Ashley mustered a grin and walked with artificial confidence to the door. “I’ll be
right back, but if I’m not for whatever reason, call my cell phone.”
Or check the dumpster in the back of this place.
With that murderous glare of his, she thought he looked like he wanted to toss her
into it.
He took her by the elbow and started her at an aggressive pace down the block.
“Um—”
“Don’t start.”
“Excuse me?”
 He didn’t respond, beyond pressing his hand to the small of her back and moving
her even faster. They crossed the street, and he helped her up into the passenger seat
of a big, black pickup truck.
“Are we going somewhere? I didn’t finish my cof—”
He slammed the door on her words, and in seconds, had raced around the front of
the truck and heaved himself up into the driver’s seat. He speared the key into the
ignition and peeled out of the parking space before she could even get her seatbelt
buckled.
“Are we going some—”
“Don’t talk.”
Her jaw flapped wordlessly for a few beats, but she couldn’t come up with any
words to say that would do any good. She could ask questions, but chances were slim
he’d deign to respond.
She crossed her arms over her chest and stared out the windshield as he drove out
of the Norseton business district, past the wolf houses—which she’d assumed he’d
stop at—and steered the truck off-road.
He shifted into a low gear, motored to what seemed like miles beyond civilization,
and brought the truck to an abrupt stop near a deep gulch.
He yanked the parking brake up and snatched her purse off the floor.
“What are you doing?” She tried to grab it back, but his reflexes were faster, his
grip stronger.
He found her phone in the bag, powered it off, and got out of the truck.
“What are you doing?” she repeated, following him. Dread was heavy in her gut.
He went to the edge of the gulch, wound his arm back like a major league pitcher,
and tossed the phone what had to be a hundred yards toward the center.
She stood petrified, unable to move or even think after hearing the soft thunk of
her cell hitting the rocky bottom.
Her phone. Her lifeline.
He grabbed her by the harness back and pulled her away from the edge. Near the
truck, he fisted her skirt and started working it up.
Her brain finally rebooted, and she swatted at his hands. “Stop it!”
“Take it off, or I’ll take it off for you.”
“No. What the fuck is wrong with you? Stop touching me, asshole.”
He gave his head a slow shake. “There’s absolutely nothing wrong with me, and
everything wrong with you. Take off your clothes, or I’ll force you to shift and you
won’t have a choice.”
“You can’t do that.”
“Don’t think so? I’m the son of an alpha, and an alpha in my own right. Get me
angry enough, and I can pour off enough energy to make your wolf come out by
force, and she’ll be too scared to shift back after the full moon. You’ll be running
around on four legs for days, and will probably find yourself a nice, deep, death trap
like this one to fall into because you’re not careful. Take off your fucking clothes so I
can search you, or I’ll take matters into my own hands.”
“Search me for what?”
“Don’t pretend to be more stupid than you actually are. My scanner went off, so I
searched your baggage back at my house. You had a tracking chip stuck inside your
makeup bag. Deactivated, fortunately, but I’m certain that would have changed as
soon as your daddy was sure you were all settled in. And if he planted one there, I’m
sure he put more on you. So.” He rocked back on his boot heels and folded his arms
over his broad chest. “Strip.”
“There’s nothing on me. My father didn’t even know I—”
He scoffed. “Don’t tell me what your daddy wouldn’t do. You want to act like you
don’t know what goes on in his pack? Fine. But I’m not letting you return to my
pack’s sanctuary until I’m convinced you’re not transmitting information back to
Jersey with every move you make.”
“No one knows I’m here! For fuck’s sake. You’re going to feel so stupid when you
realize you’re flying off the handle about nothing.” She kicked off her sandals and
pushed her dress straps down her arms.
His cold gaze was locked on her face as she stripped, as if she wasn’t even good
enough for him to ogle.
She draped the dress over the tailgate and covered her bare breasts with her arms.
“See? Nothing there.”
He grunted and moved around her. Efficiently, he lifted her hair and patted her
down from neck to armpits, and gave her clenched ass a grope that no police agency
in the country would have tolerated as part of a legal search.
Then he turned her, pressed her arms to her sides, and lifted each of her breasts.
So fucking clinical. It was as if he didn’t even see her as a woman, and that
angered her more than the fact that he was patting her down in the first place. Wolves
were supposed to be hungry for their mates, and he acted as if she were just some
random bitch who meant nothing.
 He let her breasts fall back into place and tucked a finger into the front of her
panties.
She took a big step back. “If you think I’ve stuck something up myself that
doesn’t belong, you’re insane. Stay away from my cooch.”
His growl echoed into the gulch as he pulled his own phone from his pocket and
held it up so she could see the display. It kept vibrating, although there didn’t seem to
be a call coming in. The words Live Device Nearby flashed on the screen.
She furrowed her brow. “I don’t understand. What kind of device? Like, a bomb?”
“I’m starting to wonder if you’re not playing dumb.”
“I keep telling you I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’ll admit to not
knowing everything. I’ve never been ashamed about doing that.” She tucked the hair
that had fallen into her face behind her ears and tried to straighten her spine. It was
hard to muster up any dignity, given the circumstances. “Tell me what you’re looking
for, and maybe I can help. That’d make things go faster.”
His dark gaze lowered ever so slightly to her right ear.
She put her hand to it. “What?”
In barely a blink of the eye, his fingers had clamped onto the large pearl stud.
She yipped at the pinch when he grabbed the earring back. “Stop! That’s a real
pearl. My parents gave me the earrings a couple of weeks ago.” Right after telling her
the date her father would be picking her mate.
“Oh, the irony.” He knelt, set the earring against a nearby wide, flat stone, and
picked up another rock.
“No! You can’t—”
He crushed the pearl along with its metal components, and picked through the bits.
She clamped her hand over her other ear when he looked up. “No. No way.”
“My pocket is still buzzing, so either give me the earring, or I’m going to have to
explore those cavities you insist you haven’t shoved anything into.”
She swallowed hard and shifted her weight. She didn’t understand how he could
be so unrelenting, so cruel. He completely disregarded her discomfort. Maybe he’s
blind to it. There’s no other explanation.
Typical wolf in one way, at least. He only cares about himself.
“You want me to promise to replace them? Fine.”
“I don’t care if you replace them. It’s the principle of the matter.”
He shrugged and held out his hand. “What’s it gonna be?”
 “Ugh.” She unfastened the earring, handed it to him, and grabbed her dress from
the tailgate. She wasn’t going to watch him crush another fine pearl.
She heard the crunch, and cringed.
“Son of a bitch.”
She didn’t think he was talking about himself, so she turned to see what had
caused his outburst.
A tiny speck of green glistened on the rock. She moved closer and bent to inspect
it along with him. “What is that?”
“It’s a tracking chip.” He held up his phone yet again. It had stopped vibrating,
and now read, “No Devices Nearby.”
“A—a bug?”
“Probably meant to act as a relay to your phone. Who knows how much your folks
back east overheard already.”
“I—I don’t understand. My parents wouldn’t have done that. Maybe it was there
when they bought them.”
He scoffed, brushed the bits of shattered earrings into his hand, and stood.
“I didn’t put them on until this morning. For the wedding.”
“Right. You wouldn’t have wanted to risk losing them during the trip.”
“No! Why do you think I know anything about this?”
“Because that’s what you are, Ashley.” He pulled open the truck’s door, grabbed a
napkin from the center console compartment, and dropped the earring components
into it. “You’re a born liar who wants to make everyone you think is beneath you
miserable because it makes you feel bigger, right? Well, you’re not going to do that
here. We don’t run our pack like the sociopathic maniacs where you’re from, so you’d
better start praying to the goddess if you can’t fit in. How’s it feel to be the bottom
wolf for a change?”
She wasn’t aware that she was the bottom wolf, but she did know she felt like shit.
In fact, she couldn’t imagine feeling any worse.
 CHAPTER FIVE

Vic was unmoved. His mate stood before him, jaw flapping and eyes wide as
saucers, and he just didn’t fucking buy it. In his mind, there was no way a woman
could live to see twenty-nine years without knowing what her father was capable of,
even on the most rudimentary level.
His father had encouraged him to hold his anger until Vic was certain Ashley
deserved it, but Vic didn’t see how she didn’t. While she did seem genuinely shocked
at what he’d found in her earring, it was just as likely that she was merely upset that
he’d destroyed valuable objects than that she’d gotten called out on her deceit.
He was trying to be sympathetic—or at least, as sympathetic as he could be—but
he remembered too much. She’d been just a little kid when the Carbones and the
others like them in the pack were expelled, but it was such a contentious ousting that
the history had to linger in the pack. Unless the princess was kept extremely sheltered,
there was no way she wouldn’t have heard about it.
The Carbones’ particular strain of werewolf genetics—Eurasian Wolf—wasn’t
particularly common in the United States, or anywhere, for that matter. A couple of
dozen had immigrated to the US in the eighteenth century, and just like everyone
seeking freedom and opportunity, followed the money. Some, like Vic and Anton’s
ancestors, settled in the northeast. Some made their way south and west, like Darius
and Colt’s families.
Their packs were never particularly robust in the New World, so they’d integrated
somewhat into other packs, though not completely. Moon shifters preferred mating
with moon shifters, which left the Eurasian wolves at a distinct disadvantage as far as
gene pools were concerned. There just weren’t enough wolves to go around. How
they’d survived into the twenty-first century, Vic could never figure out. Their plight
certainly wasn’t made any easier by people like Ashley’s father, who would on a
whim decide to oust an entire portion of his pack in a night.
“Go or die,” he’d said, and so Vic’s parents and forced Vic out of his teenage sleep
of the dead, put him and Anton in the van, and hit the road before the shit really hit
the fan.
Maybe his parents didn’t look back, but Vic certainly did. And now even if he
looked forward, there was still a Madeira ahead to taunt him.
He forced out a breath and turned his gaze heavenward. “I don’t buy it. I just can’t
fucking buy it.”
“I don’t know what you expect me to tell you,” Ashley said. “What is it you want
me to confess?”
“Your father is a known extortionist and blackmailer. He would have seen sending
his daughter into a new pack as an opportunity to extend his reach.”
“That’s utterly ridiculous. My father didn’t even know I answered the call. I didn’t
tell anyone but your father that I was coming here. Besides, alphas don’t meddle in
the affairs of other packs.”
“I don’t buy for a minute that you didn’t tell anyone. You can’t actually expect me
to believe that. And since when did your father do anything the way an alpha should?”
“You think you know so much. And more than me, about my own pack? That’s
bullshit.”
“I’ll know more about it than you’ll ever imagine.”
“Why?”
He leaned his ass against the side of the driver’s seat and canted his head to the
dress she held. “Put it on. We’re leaving.”
“Ha.” She shook it out and rolled it up as if to step into it. “Not gonna leave me
out here to make my way back on my own? Seems like it’d be a primo opportunity to
get rid of me. You’re being shortsighted.”
“Lucky for you, I’m not cruel.” Just obsessive. That was one of the reasons he’d
never be the pack’s alpha. He was too dogged about remedying personal slights, and
he knew that about himself. It was just a part of his constitution, the same way having
brown eyes and brown hair was. Anton was the better choice for their next leader, and
Vic was pretty sure his dad had always known that. The guys in the pack called Vic
“Scion” because they assumed he’d be next in line, but they’d probably learn the truth
soon enough.
“Yeah, lucky for me,” she muttered. She shimmied back into the dress and brushed
out the wrinkles of the brightly printed skirt.
He had to admit it was a pretty dress. The woman who happened to be modeling it
made the garish pattern infinitely more attractive. She was beautiful—exquisitely
molded and so fucking feminine—and fortunately, she didn’t look a damned thing like
her ogre of her father. If she hadn’t been a Madeira, he might have been able to muster
up some pride about it.
She moved away, ostensibly in search of her sandals. “So, what now?”
 He sighed and raised a hand to scratch his head. The gold of his wedding band
glinted in his periphery, and he suppressed a groan. He was married to her and mated
to her. Whether he liked it or not, they were connected until the day one of them
kicked the bucket. “I’m going to drop you off at wolf housing.”
“And where are you going?”
“Does it matter?”
“I suppose it doesn’t to you, but I’ve gotta say, this isn’t exactly how I imagined
my wedding day to pan out, if I had to have one at all.”
“Oh? Did you imagine you’d play the scene for the rest of your life? Is that how
you made it to twenty-nine without being given to some guy?”
She wound her arm back and tossed a sandal at him, but he easily dodged it.
She got in his face, wagging an index finger at him. “First of all, I’m not a thing to
be given away.”
He closed his hand around her finger and pushed it out of his face. “Watch it.”
She snatched her hand back, stood on her tiptoes, and got a little closer to him.
“Second of all, you need to watch your tone.”
“Why? You should be used to men using that tone around wolf women. And what
are you going to do if I don’t watch it? Are you gonna call your daddy and tell him
your new mate is a big meanie? Boo-freakin’-hoo, babe. I’m shakin’ in my boots.”
“Ugh!” She brought up a knee rapidly in the general vicinity of his junk, but
thanks to his wolf reflexes, got quickly out of the way.
He grabbed her from behind by the waist and pinned her torso against the truck
seat.
She writhed and squirmed under his grip, but even if she were stronger than she
had been before her arrival, she’d never be a match for him. He gripped her wrists
together in one hand and pressed them to the small of her back, keeping his other
hand on her shoulders.
“You’re such a dick!” She squirmed ineffectually, but there wasn’t much she could
do and not hurt herself against the steering wheel or other protruding interior
components. “Let go of me.”
“How are you gonna get so indignant about being suppressed when you just
brazenly tried to knee me in the jewels? This is self-defense, babe.”
“Yeah, like you really need to try so hard to get out of my way. You’re just being
an ass. Let go of me.”
“Nah. Maybe I’m enjoying the view too much.” He spread his feet a bit farther
apart and insinuated his body closer to hers.
His inner wolf thought it was a nice view, indeed. It was hard to ignore a woman
who had her ass presented so enticingly to her mate.
“I should fuck you right here.” The words came out of his mouth unfiltered and
unfettered, and he grimaced, but he wasn’t going to take them back. In spite of
everything, she was still delectably fuckable, and those rings she wore indicated that
what was between her legs was for his access only.
She squirmed a little more and forced a violent gust of air out of her lungs to blow
her hair out of her eyes. “In your dreams, asshole.”
“Who needs dreams? You’re right here in the flesh, and you’re dripping wet,
aren’t you? Don’t bother lying. I can smell it.”
“You don’t smell a damned thing. You wouldn’t know the smell of arousal if it
came in a bottle, labeled—assuming you can read, dipshit.”
“Funny.” He moved the hand at her shoulders away briefly, only to pull her skirt
up over her hips. A quick glance of her panties confirmed what his nose had been
hinting at. “Either you want to be fucked, or the desert sun has got you sweating in
some very unladylike places.”
Had she had been any other woman, he wouldn’t have said such a thing. He would
have tried to preserve the sanctity of her femininity—pay into her self-esteem—but
Ashley was not only a woman his inner wolf recognized as a sworn enemy, but also a
mate he was stuck with. It didn’t matter that his dick was hard enough to cut glass, or
that his innate drive was to deposit his seed into her. She was someone he was
supposed to avoid as much as possible, not tease and torment because his body
wanted hers so badly.
She groaned softly and buried her face against the seam between the seat and
backrest.
“Does having someone hate you turn you on?” He nudged one leg of her panty
elastic aside to expose more of her ass’s supple flesh, and gave her bottom a little
swat.
Her hands, pressed against the leather, curled into the seat, and she muttered a
swear into the seam.
He pressed his palm to her ass and gave it a teasing squeeze. “Answer me. You
want to be fucked, don’t you? You want to feel like you didn’t have a say in the
matter, and that you were just going along with it because it’s so dirty, right? You
can’t really be so weak that you’d want to get fucked by me, but if I overpower
you”—he nudged the other side of her panties over, too, to expose the entirety of her
ass—“you’ll feel blameless when all is said and done. You have a fantastic ass, by the
way. I guess you didn’t come by it by sitting on it all the time. Shocker.”
“Shut up.”
“Don’t like having the truth told to you? That’s a shame, because I’m never going
to lie to you. Never been my style, or the Carbone style, in general. Say the word. Tell
me to just go ahead and get it over with and fuck you since I’m going to do it anyway,
and then you can pretend to cry because the big, scary wolf made you whimper and
come.” He leaned in, pressing his body on top of her back as much as he could in the
tight space, and put his lips to her ear.
He drew in a breath and hated her a little more for smelling so good. Like oranges
and vanilla. Sweet, delicious things he’d never been able to resist.
“Here’s the thing,” he said. “I don’t have to fuck any woman who doesn’t want
me. I’m not forcing myself on any woman who tells me no, and that includes you. I
don’t need to beg, and I’m never desperate. I can find a volunteer almost anywhere
who’ll suck my dick without even asking me to tell her my name.”
“Fuck you.”
“Why, because you know it’s true?”
She didn’t respond other than to mutter some more of those obscene words into
the seat. She ground her ass against his crotch, and he backed off her, only to pull her
upright.
He spun her around to face him so quickly that her eyes were crossed when she
picked her head up.
He put his lips right back to her ear. “You’re desperate, aren’t ya? The mate bite
made you want to fuck, huh?”
“You know how it works, asshole. Don’t get cocky.”
“Aw, if you ask me nicely, I could put you out of your misery.”
“I just bet you would. You’d throw me into that gorge right on top of my busted
cell phone.”
“Get your priorities straight. Phones are replaceable. The safety and security of a
pack is not so easy to repair once it’s been breached. You, prima donna, are a security
risk, and I’m not even going to let you breathe if I think something bad will come of
it, so don’t go getting any ideas.”
She brought her foot down hard atop his steel-toed boot, which accomplished
exactly nothing besides making her swear again and swat at his chest.
He rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. A Madeira who can’t even
fight. Unbelievable.
 “If you’re just going to stand there being an obnoxious asshole, then let’s leave.
Let’s get in the truck, and you can drive me back to your house and lock me in the
basement for all eternity, if that’s your plan. Whatever. The longer I stand here, the
more I want to—”
He pulled her forward by the waist and pulled her dress up to her hips again.
“Want to what?” He slid his hand into the front of her soaking panties and pressed his
middle finger against her slit.
Her legs shook beneath her and her eyes went wide.
“Say something. Say you don’t want me to touch you. Tell me to take my hands
off you. Go on.” He massaged a gentle circle around her clit and she wrapped her
long, elegant fingers around his wrist. Not stopping him, really, but seeming to hold
on.
“Of all the things you’ve said to me”—he dipped the tip of his middle finger into
her opening and her muscles tightened around it—“you haven’t yet told me no. You
haven’t told me not to touch you. And it’s not because you can’t say no, or because
you’re submissive to me, right? It’s because you don’t want to say no. Admit it.”
He didn’t know why he was pushing for the words, only that he had to hear her
say them. He needed that confession from her like he needed air to breathe. The
craving for it tightened his chest and stilled his breath. Anticipation made his skin
tingle and his inner wolf lay low to watch.
What’s it gonna be, Ashley?
“Fine. I confess. I don’t want to say no.” She dropped her drawers, kicked them
aside, turned, and gave him a hard poke in the shoulder. “You happy now? Huh? Does
that get your big bully rocks off, or do I need to be on my hands and knees for that?”
He could hardly believe it. He moved his hand slowly to his belt buckle, and
waited for her to recant. Never had he made an idle threat before, but if there was the
slightest bit of unwillingness on her part, he wouldn’t touch her. His pack didn’t do
that—they didn’t hurt their women, even when so many other wolves would have said
they deserved it.
Her gaze fell to his waist, his fingers unfastening his jeans, and he watched the
lump travel down her throat.
He said nothing, just watched and sniffed the air for changes. When hormones
spiked, it was often difficult to discern the nuances between adrenaline or fear or
excitement, and the hormones associated with arousal. There seemed to be a little fear
on her part, but it was a healthy fear. She was eager. Probably also angry that she was
eager.
He held his open pants up by the belt as he walked to the cab, and then grabbed a
blanket out of the emergency kit. He unfurled it onto the ground, and looked at her.
There you go, prima donna.
It was her move. Her chance to back out, and his chance to say, “Well, you made
your choice.”
Clearing her throat, she lifted her chin pridefully, and stepped onto the thick
blanket.
He joined her as she sank to her knees, and then turned onto her ass.
“On your knees. That’s how your wolf wants you, doesn’t she?”
She didn’t respond beyond repositioning herself. Hands and knees down, with her
shoulders to the blanket. Lifting her dress over her ass, he let his pants and boxer
shorts fall to his knees and pulled her closer to him.
He parted her wet folds with his thumbs and slipped one between his lips for a
taste. He couldn’t help himself, it just seemed like something he had to do, and he
didn’t regret it. If he weren’t so strung out at the moment, he would have dipped his
head for a longer taste. A lick right at the source. He could tongue her until she
moaned and tried to crawl away from the unbearable teasing.
Maybe next time.
He pushed his cockhead against her folds and braced himself for the refusal, but
none came. She bore down onto him, taking him in inch by inch and fisting the
blanket as she swore under her breath.
Naturally, he didn’t move. The spectacle was too fucking amazing to look away
from—her knees spread wide and his cock disappearing inch by hard inch between
her folds.
How’s that, motherfucker? his inner wolf seemed to ask. You’ve suppressed your
prey. Are we happy now? Can we just fuck and not think?
Vic was happy enough for the moment. He wasn’t making any promises about the
future, though. The wolf part of him was concerned with planting seeds and siring
pups, but the man in him needed to be concerned with more pressing issues like her
father, and the elephant in the room—that they’d once been in the same pack.
Worry later. Enjoy now.
On a sigh, he put his head back and closed his eyes.
She rocked back and forth slowly, taking as much of him as she could and
squeezing her muscles hard, as if to punish him.
He’d let her punish him all day long if that was her idea of torture.
“You’re gonna—gonna let me do all the work, huh?” Her words were accusatory,
but her voice was breathy. “You’re gonna say later this was all my idea, and that you
were just giving me what I wanted, right?”
He sighed and put his hands on her hips, squeezing them gently. “Are you really
antagonizing a wolf who has his dick inside you? I can do all the work, if you want.
You better know what you’re asking for, though.”
“You think you’re the first wolf who’s had his dick in me?”
A growl rumbled from his chest, and he didn’t even bother suppressing it.
Probably the only shifters more prone to jealous rages than wolves would be cougars.
She laughed and tightened around him again. “If you think I can’t handle whatever
you give me, then you need to slowly and carefully deflate your ego.”
He dug his fingers deeply into the flesh of her haunches and thrust into her hard
and fast, and she gasped. It was not time to be smug yet, though. She’d teased the
wolf, and he needed to make sure she didn’t do it again. She didn’t have the right—
not after what her father had put his family through.
She was a Madeira in Carbone territory. The tables had been turned, and the
Norseton wolves did things differently. But having her so near knocked him back into
the past and made him forget the wolf he was supposed to be.
He was justified in hating her, but the anger would never be productive. It would
never create anything useful. Worse, he hated himself, too, for not being the bigger
person.
His father would have been.
 CHAPTER SIX

Ashley had certainly had her fair share of angry sex, but she couldn’t remember it
ever taking her breath away.
Vic thrust into her with a stunningly rapid speed that had her teeth chattering, toes
curling, and torso tightening with anticipation. She needed air, but she couldn’t draw
in a breath. Every time she tried, he’d pull her hips up again and stoke her even hotter.
She moaned and gasped, but those things didn’t make for very good breathing.
She knew she shouldn’t have teased him—shouldn’t have pushed him to such an
antagonistic place—but she couldn’t help herself. She was the daughter of an alpha,
and she was used to getting her way. She wanted Vic’s sex, wanted his fire to
consume her and burn her alive, if need be. She’d told herself that they could shake
out the consequences later, if ever, but for the moment, she wanted what he was
giving her.
“Fuckin’ hate you so much.” Without missing a beat, he slipped his fingers
between her legs and strummed her clit in such a considerate way she doubted the
veracity of his words.
Her exhalation came out in a long, raspy gust, and she pushed up onto her
forearms to balance herself. She wanted to help—wanted to make the thrusts even
more impactful by adding some of her own. She needed to come, was so desperate for
relief. “Hate you, too, asshole.”
Be nice, her inner wolf chided.
Ashley rolled her eyes at herself. Her selves, rather. He doesn’t deserve nice. He
deserves a swift kick in the nuts and a slap to the face.
He leaned over her, still thrumming her tender clit, and pressed his teeth gently to
the side of her neck. Not a bite so much as a nip—a reminder he was there, in case
she’d forgotten.
How could I forget?
She couldn’t possibly forget, even if she wanted to.
“You’ve got my scent,” he growled out pressed his fingers hard against her tender
zone.
 Her lungs seized, mouth flew open to catch the breath she couldn’t draw in, and
voice sputtered out in an embarrassing vibrato. “Oh, gods.”
He kept stroking, rocking his hips again and again, and pushing his cock head past
the G-spot that had already set off one debilitating orgasm. Now it seemed he was
intent on completely undoing her—cutting the puppet strings holding her up so that
she fell apart right there in the desert, half-naked and wild, with red dirt in her hair.
She was boneless. Didn’t want to move or even hold herself up, but he wasn’t
done.
As she collapsed onto her belly, gasping with the aftershocks of her orgasm, he
followed her down and kept going from the new angle.
Adaptable, her mate was.
And there went his teeth again in the meat of her neck, then his hot tongue lashing
up the column to the now unadorned earlobe. He pulled it between his lips and
sucked, and he seemed to find a direct, nervous line to her sex. With every suck came
an answering tug down below, and she didn’t think she could any more.
“You’re going to kill me,” she whispered.
“Not like this.”
Having uttered those inscrutable words, he backed off of her, only to slip his hand
beneath her and angle her ass a bit more upward.
“I should paint your ass with my seed,” he said. He had to know as well as she did
that he wouldn’t. Not only would it be an insult to his mate, but it was their first time
together. His inner wolf would be extra incentivized to mark her in every way he
could, inside and out. He wouldn’t cut off his own nose to spite his face when he had
a biological imperative to reproduce.
“Whatever gets your rocks off,” she said and squeezed his cock tightly inside her.
“Go on, Vic. You wanna act like a porn star, go on and do it.”
“You’re asking for trouble.”
“You assume that anything you can do to me would be a surprise. Think again.
I’m not a sheltered as you seem to think. Just because you’re my first and only mate
doesn’t mean I haven’t had plenty of practice. You couldn’t even scandalize me by
shoving it into the wrong hole. Been there—” One more squeeze just to taunt him,
and it set off another small orgasm for her that had her squirming beneath him and
biting her lip. “Done that.”
“You—fuck!” He twitched inside her and pinned her very flat, holding her very
still until his cock stopped moving.
Score. She smiled ruefully as he pulled out of her until he gave her ass a hard
swat.
“Do you ever stop talking shit?”
“Do you ever stop being a shit?” Growling, she pushed up onto her hands and
knees and crawled toward her underwear. Risking a glance over her shoulder, she
found Vince tucking himself back into his boxers. Still hard. Of course he would be,
though. She’d never known a wolf like him who wasn’t ready to go again within a
few moments. All that testosterone was good for something.
Well, not good for her at the moment. Contrary to what had come out of her
mouth, she didn’t think she could handle another round just yet. The adrenaline was
crashing and her body was starting to report in to her brain with all the aches and
sensations that had been stifled beneath the pleasure. Even with her superior werewolf
healing, her hips would probably be aching for days.
“You could probably never go home now, even if you wanted to.” He pulled open
the truck door and leaned into the crew cab. After some rustling, he drew out a
raggedy towel of questionable cleanliness tossed it to her.
She cringed, but since beggars couldn’t be choosers, she used it to clean her sticky
thighs the best she could before slipping her panties on. “Why can’t I go home?”
“You reek of Carbone now. You’ve got one for a mate and one for an alpha. That’s
not gonna sit well with your folks back east.”
“Why not? Enough with the insinuations. Out with it, already. Obviously you
know something I don’t.”
He stood in front of her with his arms crossed over his chest and drummed his
fingertips against his biceps as he stared at the sky. “If you still had a phone, I’d tell
you to call your daddy and ask him why your pack shrank so much when you were a
little girl. Hell, I’d lend you my phone so you could do it, but I don’t want my number
traced. I know your daddy is good at that. So—hmm. How about this?” His pale
brown gaze fell to her face.
She would have bet her heirloom gold cross that at that moment that he had a bit
of the devil in him. She wasn’t so afraid of the devil himself, but of the truths he told.
“Why don’t you ask one of the women in the pack if you can borrow her phone?
Maybe Stephanie or Lisa. Ask your daddy what happened, and then tell him who your
new mate is. That is, if you haven’t talked to him already.”
“Why, so he can rescue me?” The suspense was killing her. What does my father
know? No, what does Vic know? Obviously, too much. Does that mean Alpha knows
it, too?
Frustrated, she twisted the end of her ponytail into a knot she’d probably have to
cut out later.
“He’s not gonna want you back, unless he’s become a hypocrite in addition to
being a cheat. Say whatever you want to him, but I’m gonna listen in on the call. I
would strongly suggest you not clue Daddy Dearest in on your location, because if
you do, you’ll regret it.”
“Because you’ll hurt me.”
He furrowed his brow and took a step away from her. “I may dislike who you are,
but I don’t hurt women unless they try to hurt me first, and mortally. You are my
mate. There may be absolutely no affection between us at the moment, but I will
protect you to the best of my ability, and make sure you’re provided for. I can’t make
any promises beyond that, but I won’t hurt you.”
“You won’t love me, is what you’re saying.”
She didn’t know where the words had come from. Love seemed a petty concern at
the moment. Maybe it was her inner wolf speaking through her human half, or maybe
it was just her sex-addled brain making her spew gibberish. Either way, she did want
to know the answer.
He was quiet. His expression gave nothing away, and his body language remained
closed off. Cold as ice.
“Listen, the other mates might be at home now. You should be able to catch one.”
Now it was her turn to be silent. She didn’t think any of the ladies would have a
problem loaning her a phone. They were probably going to ask her why she needed it,
but that wasn’t a big deal. Ashley had always been able to come up with a good lie in
a pinch. The thing that scared her more was the possibility that Vic’s taunts and jeers
were founded in something other than just outright meanness. There might have been
some truth in them. She’d never known the promise of truth to be such a frightening
thing.
Holding her head up high, she walked around to the other side of the truck and got
in. She’d done nothing wrong. She wasn’t going to start acting like she had.
___
Ashley thanked Stephanie for the use of her phone, and the other woman waved
her off. The redhead backed down the path toward Darius’s house with heavy
shopping bags dangling from her forearms. “Just hold onto it until I see you again. No
need to bring it back in a hurry.”
Ashley nodded and glanced toward Vic’s house.
He waited in the doorway with arms folded over his chest. She didn’t want to be
closed into that house with him again, so she headed for the bench she’d sat on during
the mate-matching ordeal.
She pulled in a long breath as she dialed her parents’ home phone number, and
then froze before putting in the last digit.
Maybe calling Daddy isn’t a good idea.
Her father would be suspicious if she called out of the blue and started asking
questions. Or perhaps, he might have been expecting it and already had answers
queued up and ready for her. That would be bad. She would learn exactly what kind of
liar he was, and confirm that what Vic was saying was the truth. The really fucked up
part was that she wasn’t quite sure who’d she prefer to be the liar—her father or her
mate. Either way, she didn’t expect to have a smile on her face when all was said and
done. She was screwed.
“Fuck.” She cleared the digits and put in her mother’s number instead. Her mother
answered on the third ring.
“Hi, who’s this?”
“Ma, it’s Ashley.” She looked over her shoulder and found Vic headed up the path,
likely to supervise her call. Just like he said he would.
“Ash? Why’d you skip out on us like that? That’s some crazy stuff you did.
You’ve got your father all in a panic.”
“I bet,” Ashley said dryly.
“When are you coming home? Did you get bitten, or what?”
Ashley pinched the bridge of her nose. “Yeah, I got bitten. I stink of my mate, but
that’s not important right now. I need you to tell me the truth about something.”
“Getting a bite’s not important? One that you hightailed it out of here without a
word to get? Come on, little girl. Really, Ashley, what’s wrong? You need your dad to
come get you? Where are you?”
“Leave Daddy wherever he is for now. I’m okay. It’s just a simple question or
two.”
“Is it about what happens after a woman gets her bite? Honey, that’s normal. It’ll
pass. You won’t be so—well, amorous forever.”
Ashley rolled her eyes. She certainly hoped not. Being as horny as a teenager with
her only outlet for relief a mate who looked as though he could set her on fire with his
gaze wasn’t her idea of a good time, and even if Vic was an epic dickhead, she wasn’t
a cheater. She’d just have to suffer—and perhaps buy a vibrator and lots of
rechargeable D batteries.
“What’s he like, this guy? Better than you would have gotten here? I don’t think
so. None are better than here.”
False.
Vic plopped onto the bench next to her and leaned his forearms onto his knees,
watching Ashley through the corners of his eyes. She was grateful he didn’t look her
straight on. He was too intense—hard to look at for too long without her questioning
her worth. And she did question it.
Might as well come out with it. She pulled in a bracing breath and fiddled with the
wrinkled fabric of her dress. “You remember when I was around—gods, I don’t know
—eight or nine, maybe? A bunch of folks left the pack in a couple of days. I
remember the gatherings were smaller for a long while. Why was that?”
Her mother always had a response, and usually a quick one. For once, she was
silent, and that scared Ashley. If it weren’t for the ubiquitous classic rock her mother
always kept playing on the radio in the background, Ashley would have thought the
connection had dropped.
“Ma?”
“Hey, maybe you should talk to your father about that. Why are you bringing that
up now? Where are you?”
“Oh, gods. Why can’t you just answer the question? It’s simple enough, right?”
Ma groaned. “Look, sometimes, packs just need to be culled.”
“I understand that. Packs send boys away all the time, but we lost a lot of folks at
once—adults, too.”
“They left on their own.”
“Really?”
Vic shook his head and scoffed. He whispered, “If she believes that, she’s
deluded.”
Of course he could hear her. He could probably hear a pin drop on the moon.
Ashley was grateful for it, though. He might learn that she really had no clue about
most of the things going on around her, and that she hadn’t lied about not telling her
parents where she was.
“Why are you asking? It was so long ago. Don’t you have more important things
to worry about? Tell me about your mate. What’s he like?”
“Actually, he’s the one who told me to call. I think he’s under the impression you
might know who he is.”
Silence again. Ashley counted off seconds in her head. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen.
“Well, who is he?”
 Ashley pressed the phone between her ear and shoulder and pinched off a cuticle
that was peeling back toward the painful danger zone. “Last name is Carbone.” She
cut her gaze to Vic, who raised an eyebrow. “That name familiar?”
“God damn it, Ashley. Somehow I always knew you were gonna get us in
trouble.”
“Us?” Ashley squeezed her bleeding digit between her thumb and forefinger and
pulled the phone back from her ear.
Vic rolled his hand in a Go on, keep talking gesture.
If only I knew what to say.
He made the gesture again.
She closed her eyes and groaned. “I take it you don’t like the sound of that name.”
“Let me get your father. Just—”
“No. Tell me now what you need to tell me, or I swear to any god who’ll hear the
oath that you will never hear from me again. You’ll never know if you end up with
one of those granddaughters none of my brothers have managed to give you so far.
You’ll be totally in the dark, especially since all the bugs you planted in my shit don’t
work.”
“It wasn’t me, Ashley. It was your father!”
“So you admit it? You bugged me and my bags, and had my mate distrustful of me
before I could even say fifty words in my own defense? Fuck, Ma. I haven’t even
been here a full day yet, and he hates me. I mean, literally, hates me. He hated me
from the moment my name popped up on the respondent list, and that’s not fair for
me. You tell me why, and now. What happened? And tell me everywhere you’ve got
tracking devices attached to my belongings, and I mean everywhere.”
“As far as I know there were just the three. One in your earrings, one stuck to the
bottom of that lipstick your father replaced for you two weeks ago, and one in your
phone.”
Vic nodded. “That’s all I found.”
Ashley didn’t buy for a minute there were only three. She couldn’t trust a damned
thing that came out of the woman’s mouth. How could she? Ashley had no way of
knowing just how many lies she’d been fed during her life. Everything she knew was
probably a lie. “Tell me the rest. What happened?”
“It was a treaty issue. It’d been made by the alpha from a bunch of generations
ago when we first started colonizing this place. He absorbed the Eurasian wolves into
his pack in exchange for their protection. When shifted, they’re so much scarier than
the rest of us. You’ve seen ’em by now, I’m sure.”
 Ashley looked to Vic. He shrugged.
Ashley couldn’t remember what he was like as a wolf. She couldn’t remember shit
from when she’d shifted.
“The treaty had been in place for a long time, and it got renegotiated every ten
years or so. At the time of our little drama, Adam Carbone was the contact.”
“He wouldn’t negotiate?”
“He would, but he wanted your father to change some things. Your father didn’t
like it.”
“What kind of things?”
“It was—oh, I don’t know, Ashley. Ask your father.”
“No, I’m asking you. You know what it was, so tell me what was bad enough that
they made them leave with all those fuckin’ kids. Go on. I’m dead curious.” Her foot
tapped out an impatient rhythm on the stone walkway, and her back molars ground.
She just knew shit was going to get worse and worse, and that Vic was going to be
justified in his revulsion of her. She could feel it in her bones, just like every time she
knew when someone was going to win a huge Powerball payout.
“I think it was about dues or something.”
“Dues? You’re saying you expelled pack members because they wouldn’t pay
dues?”
“It wasn’t that they weren’t paying them, but—jeez, I dunno.”
“Don’t pull that on me, Ma. Don’t do that submissive alpha’s wife shit. Don’t act
like you don’t know what’s happening in your own household and in your own pack.
You kept me in the dark well enough that you certainly had to know what it was I
needed to be shielded from, so fuckin’ tell me now.”
“All right. Gods, the mouth on ya. Fine. Adam didn’t like what the money was
being spent on, and he and your dad had it out.”
“They fought?”
“Yes.”
“And Adam lost?” It just didn’t seem possible. Having been in touching distance
of both her father and her new alpha, Ashley was convinced of which of them had
more power, and it wasn’t her father. It practically poured off of Adam and took her
breath away. Power didn’t always mean that a wolf would win a fight—especially if
their opponent played dirty—but the odds were stacked very high in Adam’s favor.
“No,” Ma said. “He didn’t lose.”
“I don’t understand.”
 “It was a mess, that’s all I can say. Adam didn’t want the pack, so the only reason
behind the ass-kicking was to prove a point.”
“Which was, what? That Daddy was the weaker wolf?”
“Yeah. Basically. And that got people questioning things, and all sorts of stuff
came to light.”
“I didn’t know any of this.”
“Your father has good enforcers. They made it so no one can even remember what
the truth was, after a while. But, in the end, Adam left because the enforcers made
him. They ganged up on him.”
“You mean, challenged him?”
“No. Threatened to beat him down if he didn’t go and take his kind with him.”
“Daddy has five enforcers. That wouldn’t have been a fair fight.”
“I never said it was fair, Ashley.”
“Shit.” Ashley pressed the meat of her palm to her eyes and rubbed. Vic had been
right. He was probably right about everything. “What am I supposed to do now, Ma?”
“I don’t know what to tell you. But are you all right? You feel safe?”
“Oh, I don’t know. What does safe feel like? I always thought I had a good idea
about that, but that was just smoke and mirrors, wasn’t it? All an illusion you set up to
shield me from the truth and from the way the outside world truly operates. You
screwed me, Ma. You and Daddy. Half the packs in the country probably wouldn’t
want to have anything to do with me.”
“Sounds about right,” Vic muttered.
She balled her hand into a fist and let her nails dig into her flesh. The sharp pain
took the edge off her anger, and in its place came a rush of fear. In two days,
everything she’d thought she’d known about herself had turned out to be lies. She
wasn’t sure who she was, or even what she was supposed to do to find out.
“Don’t tell Daddy I called, okay? Just—don’t even try to get in touch. Delete this
number from your phone and pretend I never called.”
Ashley disconnected the call, cutting short her mother’s rebuttal in the process,
and added her parents’ numbers to Stephanie’s blocked callers list.
She needed to say something to Vic. That was the obvious next order of business.
Meeting his gaze shouldn’t have been so hard, though. She’d never been afraid to
look people in the eye and tell them what they needed to be told, but she stared at the
phone in her hands, and crossed, then uncrossed her ankles again and again.
She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t think there was anything she could say
that would make a difference.
“I’ve got stuff to do. See ya.” Vic stood, and by the time she could muster up
enough courage to look up, he was rounding the corner of his house. A moment later,
his truck’s engine roared to life, and gravel churning as he backed onto the street.
And still, she didn’t move. She had no rudder, no purpose, and a mate who
despised her.
She couldn’t fix that. It used to be that she relied on her father to fix things for her.
That didn’t seem to be such a good option anymore.
 CHAPTER SEVEN

There were only a few people Vic allowed to give him unsolicited advice, and at
the moment, he didn’t particularly want to hear what any of them had to say. Still, he
clenched his jaw, tightened his fingers around the steering wheel, and said nothing in
retort as his father talked at him.
“A month’s too long,” his father said.
Vic drummed his fingers against the wheel and kept his gaze on the road. They
were picking up a couple of Afótama VIPs from the airport and needed to be waiting
when their planes landed so bogus representatives didn’t intercept them. The Afótama
had way too many enemies, and those enemies were stunningly proficient at keeping
their identities under wraps. If they weren’t, the wolves would have rooted them out
months ago and neutralized the threat. They were usually better at that.
“Your mother thinks you need to go back to your own house.”
“To do what? Stare at that woman and try to force myself to say one kind thing to
her?”
“She’s your wife, Vic. She hasn’t left. Doesn’t that tell you she wants to try to
make it work?”
“No, it actually doesn’t. Where could she possibly go? No one else would have
her.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. Another pack might be hesitant to welcome her, given the
dirty tracks her father has left all over the country. That doesn’t mean she can’t go off
on her own, if she wanted to. If she needed a bit of money to hide out somewhere in a
little apartment, me and your mother could probably come up with some.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Because in spite of everything, I’m her alpha. I’m charged to take care of her, just
like it’s my responsibility to take care of you.”
“I’m thirty-five years old. I think I’m doing okay.”
“Are you, though? Look, I knew we were going to have some issues the moment it
was clear to me that you two were a match. But the thing is, you’re not gonna stop
being a match. You don’t get another try unless she dies. I don’t imagine you wish
death on her.”
“Of course I don’t. What kind of asshole do you think I am?”
“The same kind you’ve always been.”
Vic rolled his eyes and steered the truck onto the highway off-ramp.
“And you don’t really want to imagine her moving on to someone else, do you?
She could always shack up with a human guy or some other kind of shifter. Your bite
wouldn’t matter so much that way. They wouldn’t be able to discern your scent.”
Of course Vic didn’t want to imagine that. He’d been imagining nothing but that
for the past month, thanks to his inner wolf’s constant the sky is falling agitation. The
emotions were too confusing to sort out. There was a beautiful woman in the house he
hadn’t used for much more than a closet in the past month—a woman who
represented everything that had made the past two decades of his life a living hell.
The logical part of his brain understood that not everything—or anything, really—
was her fault. She was trying to fit in. She’d made friends with the other ladies, and
they trusted her. That should have counted for something, because Vic trusted them.
They were good women, all of them fit to be an alpha’s wife in their own ways. Sure,
they had a collection of neuroses that could have broken even the best psychiatrist’s
brain, but they were all so smart. Just by being there, they made the pack better.
“I honestly think the best thing you can do is sit down and have a meeting of the
minds,” his father said. “Hash out all the tough stuff and figure out what you want
from each other.”
“I have no idea what I want from her.”
“I imagine you’d want the same thing from her that you’d want from any other
woman you’d consider settling down with. You weren’t one of the holdouts when we
held the vote for me to do the call. Obviously, you had to have some idea in mind of
what you wanted.”
“I wanted a partner. I wanted what you and Mom have.”
“You think it’s always been a walk in the park for us?”
“You make it look so easy. So yeah, I guess I assumed that.”
“We make it look easy because we let ourselves care about each other. You gotta
get all the other shit out of the way so you can do that. Everything else will fall slowly
into place afterward.”
“I can’t imagine you and Mom ever having problems.”
“Fuck, Vic, we went at it like feral cats, fighting over everything and nothing, just
because we had to.”
 “What do you mean?” Vic waited for the light to turn green and made a left turn
onto the airport road.
“It’s natural. When a guy with an alpha’s level of power takes the right mate, that
lady isn’t going to go to him meekly. She’s gonna give him hell, and he’s gonna give
her hell, because maybe he feels a little threatened by her. A good alpha pair always
manages to find the right level of give and take, and the lady always makes her man
better.”
Vic just couldn’t see it. “Then why are there so many screwed up alphas? You
can’t say the Madeira lot isn’t completely fucked up.”
“I keep telling you boys that there’s alpha, and then there’s capital-A Alpha. Just
because you’re capital-A doesn’t mean you have the right stuff. We’re talking about
nature, not titles. Nature has a funny way of giving us what we need if we know how
to listen to it. So listen to it.”
“Listening is easy. Obeying isn’t.”
“I never said it was easy. Stop thinking shit’s supposed to be easy. That way you’ll
be less shocked when it’s not.”
 CHAPTER EIGHT

Walking into his house for anything beyond grabbing a change of clothes felt like
an intrusion to Vic. He hadn’t been there for more than five minutes at a time in a
month, and had limited most of his visits to points when he was nearly certain Ashley
wasn’t there. She’d taken a job somewhere. He didn’t even know where. He hadn’t
asked—hadn’t really allowed himself to care.
He was curious, though, and wondered what a pampered wolf prima donna would
do to earn money. He didn’t even know if she’d ever had a job before. He didn’t know
anything about her at all, really, besides who was in her family tree and that her
middle name was Raquel. That’s what their marriage certificate said, anyway.
He closed the screen door softly behind him, and took a moment to assess the state
of his house. Although he’d been living there for about six months, he hadn’t done
much in the way of personalization. During his brief visits, he hadn’t noticed that
Ashley had done any either, but obviously, he hadn’t been paying attention. He’d been
too busy trying to hurry in and out like a coward.
There was more furniture than there had been before. Little things he hadn’t seen
because of his tunnel vision. Side tables. Bookshelves. She’d left a ring of upholstery
fabric swatches on the table near the door. He picked it up and idly thumbed through
them as he made his way farther into the house. She wasn’t in the kitchen, but some
new canisters and a drying rack were. He paused to lift the lid on the largest of the
containers and found it filled with sandwich cookies. He set down the swatches,
grabbed a couple cookies, and moved farther into the house.
She wasn’t in the guest bedroom, but the curtains—apparently, I have curtains
now—were thrown open and closet door ajar.
Curious, he poked his head in to find her luggage and some organizer baskets,
which he quickly learned contained spare linens—apparently, I have spare linens now
—and a few random AC adapters and surge protectors. Probably a better place for
them than the kitchen counter.
She had to be home. The front door had been unlocked and her purse was dangling
from the back of one of the kitchen chairs.
She wasn’t in the bathroom, but she’d left the light on. There was still some
moisture in the air from a recent shower, and toiletries crowded the countertop. He’d
never lived with a woman besides his mother, so the clutter intrigued him. He stepped
into the small room and took stock of it. Moisturizer, de-frizzing serum—whatever
that is. Toothpaste for sensitive teeth. Some kind of scissor-handled torture tongs. He
picked them up and accidentally knocked the toothpaste over the counter’s edge.
Bending to retrieve it from the trashcan, he froze with his hand extended and tried to
make sense of the white cardboard box within.
“What’s that for?”
Stupid question. He knew what it was for. Living on the road for so many years
hadn’t prevented him from seeing his fair share of those “One line means no, two
lines mean yes” commercials. He just couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that she
would need the product.
Swallowing, he pulled the toothpaste tube from the top, set it back onto the
countertop, and pulled the trashcan closer.
The telltale clicks of sliding coat hangers against the bar in the master bedroom’s
walk-in closet gave him pause, but he had to assuage his burning curiosity. He lifted
the box, and a couple of open foil packets fell out of the end and clattered against the
rim of the metal trashcan.
Two of them?
“Hello?” Ashley called out.
Shit. He quickly plucked out the two discarded sticks and turned them over,
window-side up. “Fuck.”
“Hello?” she repeated.
“Yeah. It’s Vic.” He stuffed the wands back into the bin and covered them with the
box. “Fuck,” he repeated. Mine?
He hadn’t lived to age thirty-five without having a pretty good idea of what could
happen when a man and woman had unprotected sex. But apparently, for the few
minutes they’d been going at it, he’d forgotten that the rules of nature applied to him.
He rolled his eyes at himself, and pulled his body up to standing. Of course the kid
is mine. If she’d already been pregnant, he would have known by her scent, and the
chance of her having a “close encounter” with another man in the same time period
was just too fucking small given the travel time involved in moving to Norseton.
“Well, that complicates things.” He started down the hall, and stopped halfway to
the bedroom door. “Or maybe not.” Maybe it makes some things easier.
“Wow. A baby.” Statistically speaking, the pack was long overdue for someone to
have one. Before the women had arrived, the youngest person in the pack had been
Darius, who was nearly thirty-one. The fact that none of them had an accident up to
that point—that any of them had fessed up about, anyway—was a testament to the
consistent use of prophylaxis and staying the hell away from women who smelled like
they were ready to be mamas.
He continued to the bedroom and paused in the doorway right as Ashley stepped
out of the closet with her towel still tightened around her torso.
Spotting him, her hand went, seemingly reflexively, to the towel’s knot, and her
cheeks took on a dark hue.
He put up his hands placatingly. “It’s all right. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“I’ll be out of here in a minute. I need to get to work.”
“No hurry. I didn’t need anything.” He cringed. What he said wasn’t quite true,
and he didn’t want to perpetuate the notion that she counted in that “anything.” His
father was right—Vic had to try. He’d wanted a partner, and Ashley was the mate the
goddess had approved for him. It was up to him to figure out how to make it work. He
wasn’t the only injured party, and he had to keep reminding himself that she’d been
fucked over, too.
Watching him wordlessly, she gripped the coat hanger a bit more tightly in her fist,
and shifted her weight. The dressed she held was some kind of belted, sleeveless
sheath. Not fancy, at least in his opinion, but he knew fuck-all about women’s
clothing. It had probably been expensive.
He leaned against the doorframe and hooked his thumbs into his belt loops.
“Where do you work?”
“Um.” She bobbed her eyebrows and sputtered her lips. “I guess I’m kind of a
high-end babysitter.”
“You’re a nanny?”
She held the dress against her waist beneath her forearm and used her now-free
hand to make a waffling gesture. “Not exactly. My job is to get Ótama up to speed.
She doesn’t know anything about the world.”
That was probably as close to an understatement as a person could get. Ótama was
the progenitor of the Afótama clan. For nearly a thousand years, she’d been confined
to a Purgatory-like place, and recently, the old Viking gods saw fit to return her to the
land of the living. She was a powerful witch and an efficient diplomat, but incredibly
naive. It wasn’t her naïveté that had killed her the first time she’d been alive, though.
Childbirth had done that.
And that reminded him… Shit. Can Ashley even carry a kid? Moon shifter birth
rates were low in comparison to Vic’s ilk. When a mother shifted, the fetus got
tangled up.
Does she know that?
She furrowed her forehead, probably growing annoyed at his inability to hold up
his end of the conversation.
He cleared his throat. “Uh, that’s a pretty sweet gig.”
Ashley shrugged and backed into the closet. She turned the light on and closed the
door almost all the way.
Dammit. Vic blew some air through his lips and let them flap. He didn’t know how
to make peace with her. With the guys in the pack, it was easy. They argued and
fought just like any close group of friends who every now and then annoyed the ever
loving shit out of each other. In the end, they always figured out ways to shake off the
frustration, whether it meant having a scuffle in their wolf forms, or some passive
aggressive shit like “forgetting” to relieve someone of his guard duty.
“I think Lora tapped me for the job because I’m qualified to carry a firearm,”
Ashley said. The rustling noises from the closet were probably her slipping into that
fitted dress. His mind wandered to that place of curiosity—of imagination. He
wondered if her body looked exactly the same as it had a month ago. How pregnant is
she? He was pretty good at math, but his biology knowledge could probably use a
refresher. “Or was, rather,” she added. She stepped out of the closet wearing the knee-
skimming dress and tightened the belt around her trim midsection.
Nothing to see there.
“I need to get credentialed for New Mexico. Probably won’t be a problem.”
Vic pushed up both eyebrows.
“What?”
“I dunno. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that you know how to manage a
handgun.”
“You mean, given who my father is, right?” She slowly, calmly wadded her wet
towel into a bundle and kept her gaze locked on him.
He pushed a hand through his uncombed hair and grunted.
“It was a necessary evil. You can’t be a woman my age who can’t shapeshift
unless you’ve got some other way to protect yourself. My father wasn’t always going
to be around to protect me.”
“If what he did even qualifies as protecting.”
“Fine. I’ll let you have that one, because you’re right.” She tossed the towel into
the corner hamper and stepped into a pair of sandals.
 “Look, I didn’t come over here to insult you.”
“But you can’t hold your tongue, right?” Since she was bent at the waist, fastening
the strap of her shoe, her voice came out in the muffle.
He pushed away from the doorframe and slowly closed the distance between
them.
She peered at him out of the corners of her eyes as he approached.
He leaned his butt against the dresser’s edge and crossed his arms over his chest.
Then he changed his mind and pressed his hands to the dresser. Confrontational body
language wouldn’t help his cause, whatever that was. He still wasn’t sure what his
cause was. It was an amorphous thing swirling in his head, bits and pieces that didn’t
quite congeal, but that were all important individually.
He needed to connect with his mate—that was for certain. The wolf part of him
was becoming increasingly anxious about the separation. All of the members of the
pack were charged with doing all they could to ensure the health and wellbeing of the
group, and a big part of that was keeping their exchanges positive and respectful. He
didn’t know who had started the lie that a bunch of could-be-alphas couldn’t get along
in the same group, but it was pervasive. Most big packs sought to eliminate their
strong young men as soon as they could because the leadership felt threatened by
them. The higher-ups were concerned with job security and lining their pockets, and
not doing what was right.
Every man in the Norseton pack had been sent away from his birthpack in one
way or another because of that fear, but they’d proven they could get along—and that
a pack was only as strong as the weakest wolf in it. Strong was good, and there was
room for them all.
That included Ashley.
He didn’t know how to express that. She wasn’t Anton or Colt, so he couldn’t just
say, Are we cool, man? and expect that she’d shrug off the hurt. And he knew he’d
hurt her.
She straightened up and fixed her gaze on him. She said nothing, but her
expression was easy enough to read: Well?
He turned his hands over. “Look, do you want to get dinner or something?”
She stood, brushed the wrinkles out of her dress, and gave him another sideways
glance. “Dinner?”
“Yeah, something in Norseton. Pretty sure you don’t want me to cook.”
She entwined her fingers in front of her belly, drawing his gaze down to it.
Distracting him with his own questions and worries. “I don’t think I’m going to have
time today.”
He cringed and righted his stare. Her cheeks glowed a soft pink he was pretty sure
he had put there. With her scent being muddled due to her changing hormones,
guessing her mood would take some practice. Not that he’d had much practice at it
before she was pregnant. It might have been easier if he had. “Tomorrow, then?”
She gave her head a slow shake and twirled her thumbs. “Uh—tomorrow isn’t
looking so great, either. Still playing catch-up for the two evenings last week I lost to
battling the full moon.”
Battling. Right. Pregnancy and moon shifting were incompatible. He didn’t want
to let on yet that he knew why she hadn’t shifted, though. “Just tell me when.”
She shrugged and strode to the door. “Maybe sometime next week.”
“Seriously?”
She gave no response.
The soft pads of her sandals slapped against the wood floor as she walked farther
and farther away. Past the bathroom, even, and he stood there like a dumbass.
By the time he got his feet in motion, she was at the front door and pulling her
purse onto her shoulder.
No words came out as he leaned against the counter. He watched her leave, not
certain what else he could do.
He was a wolf dancing on eggshells, and hated the feeling—like no matter what
he did, he’d break something.
Maybe it’s supposed to be that way.
He pounded his fist gently against the countertop and squinted at the new dish
rack.
Maybe they—the collective thing that was Ashley and Vic—were broken, but
Ashley wasn’t. Not yet, anyway. She had to be as resilient as elastic after what he’d
put her through, and after the way she was raised. He could pull her to the point of
snapping and was in a unique position to do so. He was her mate: her husband. But he
didn’t want to break her.
Their pack needed strong wolves, and the moment, he was the weakest link.
Not her.
 CHAPTER NINE

Ashley suppressed a chuckle as she gathered up the pile of Uno cards.

“That was mean,” Ótama said with a pout.
“It was not mean.” Ashley tamped the cards into a tidy pile and shuffled them,
grinning like an idiot, probably, and she didn’t care. The Afótama matriarch embodied
so many contradictions, she made Ashley’s head spin. She was small, but powerful.
Naïve, but tenacious when necessary. Sweet, but aggressive. Ashley couldn’t picture
the tiny brunette making much of a Viking, but she swore that’s what she was—the
only daughter of the chieftain Alfarinn, and probably the most dangerous witch in the
country. Ashley was happy she was a wolf and wasn’t susceptible to the choking
intensity of Ótama’s energy, even at its baseline. She’d heard from some of the folks
in the mansion that it was incredibly humbling.
“Those are the rules of the game,” Ashley said. “Sometimes, your opponents get a
bunch of really great cards, and their goal, obviously, is to use them to make you pick
up a whole lot of cards to keep you in the game longer.”
“I never did like games of chance.”
“Yeah, this one definitely has the potential to raise your blood pressure. If you
want to play something a little more cerebral, there’s always checkers. Or chess. I
never learned to play chess, though, so I wouldn’t be much of an opponent for you.”
“Nor did I. Perhaps we could find the rules of the game in a book and learn
together.”
“Or we could just Google them.” Ashley snapped a rubber band around the stack
of cards and returned to the shelf used to store games in the Norseton mansion’s
library.
“I find Google to be terribly distracting. I do not believe I wish to fall down that
rabbit hole today. Only two days ago, I went to do a search for a recipe to give to
Muriel and ended up on some purveyor of filth’s website.” She pressed her hand her
heart and gave her head a solemn shake.
Ashley cringed and carefully extricated the checkers from the stack of game
boxes. “Sorry about that. Eventually, you’ll develop a gut feeling for what’s not safe
to click on. I imagine Internet porn would come as a shock to someone from your
era.”
“Pah.” Ótama waved a dismissive hand and fixed her cloak around her. Beneath it,
the ancient princess had on modern clothes, but the best Ashley could tell, she wore
the old-fashioned cloak as a sort of security blanket. Fiddling with it seemed to give
Ótama something to do with her hands. “The content did not disturb me. I am not as
naive in some regards as you children insist on believing.”
Ashley pressed her lips together, praying the laugh she tried to tamp down didn’t
find an exit route via her nose. Ótama looked to be around thirty, which might have
been damn near elderly back in her day, and her habit of referring to people in
Ashley’s generation as children amused Ashley and the rest of the staff way too much.
“What bothered me was the fact that they wished to receive money for it.” Ótama
scoffed. “What could possibly be worth thirty American dollars?”
“Well, just between you and me, the premium stuff is unabridged, newer, and the
clips have better sets and props than the stuff you get at the freebie sites.” Ashley set
the checkers box on the table and lifted the lid. “Not that I’ve been looking.”
Ótama leaned in, holding her cloak closed at the neck, her bright eyes awash with
mischief. “But is it worth thirty dollars? My descendants manage my funds. I do
believe they would investigate such a charge on my credit card statement.”
Knowing Queen Tess and her cousin Nadia as Ashley did, she suspected they
would indeed investigate the charge, if only to see if it were accidental. “That could
potentially be awkward.”
“That is why I have you, is it not? You are supposed to teach me to be
independent.”
“Okay, so here is one of the most important lessons I’ll ever give you—get a
prepaid card and use that for unsavory Internet stuff.”
“Oh, you are a crafty one, Ashley.”
Ashley shrugged. “I kind of had to be, given the way I grew up.”
Ashley was having a better understanding of exactly how she’d grown up the
longer she spent away from her birthpack. There’d been nothing normal about her
upbringing, or about how much of her education about the world had been
suppressed. She didn’t know how fucked up her life was until she’d had something to
compare it to. The more she thought about it, the more depressed it made her.
Ótama chucked Ashley’s chin and clucked her tongue. “You are not one of mine,
so I cannot read your mood, but I can tell from looking at you that something is
bothering you.”
 Ashley put on a smile and scooped checker pieces out of the open box. “Don’t
worry about it. My mind’s just going places it shouldn’t.”
“I see.”
“Yeah, don’t worry about it. I’ll work it out.” Somehow.
She’d spent the past month being so angry in general. At first, she was angry with
Vic, then her parents, then herself. For a while, she was angry with everyone—just
generally angry—and being so impotently mad was exhausting. Her uterine
hitchhiker wasn’t helping matters any, either.
She hadn’t told anyone, but everyone would know soon enough. Mrs. Carbone
had already figured it out. It had taken her one sniff. She’d probably known even
before Ashley did. Ashley hadn’t been able to believe it. She kept taking tests,
expecting one day she’d pee on one and it would tell her all the previous ones were
just flukes. But that was unreasonable. The midwife was pretty sure that the kid was
going to stick, but Ashley had to do her part to make sure that he or she did. She
wanted that baby—she wanted one person to love her just as she was and not because
she was some kind of pawn. She’d do anything to protect it, even going away if she
had to. Although she was growing quite comfortable in Norseton and for once in her
life felt productive in a genuinely useful way, she’d leave if she and Vic couldn’t see
eye to eye. The baby was innocent of everything that had happened in the past. If he
couldn’t get that through his thick skull, she’d do all she could to cut off his access.
And speak of the devil…
His energy lapped at her from across the room, seeking her out. She pushed down
the standing hairs on her neck and shook off the chills.
“Hello, Mr. Carbone. Do I need to be somewhere soon?” Ótama asked him.
“Nah, your schedule is clear for the day,” Vic said. “Do you mind if I grab my
wife for a few minutes?”
Ashley pinched the bridge of her nose. Fuck. The last thing they needed was a
mansion full of people to potentially overhear them screaming at each other.
“It is fine with me if it is fine with her. I think I will visit the kitchen and see if
your mother has brought me any new treats. She is working today, is she not?”
“She just left. Knowing Mom, though, she probably put enough leftovers into the
fridge to keep you going back all night.”
“Splendid.” Ótama gave Ashley a nod of farewell, pulled her cloak around her,
and padded to the hall.
Still, Ashley didn’t turn.
It didn’t matter. Even if she hadn’t been able to hear the falls of his booted feet,
she would have felt his approach. His energy lapped at her and sought her out as if she
were some thing that belonged to him and he demanded back.
He pulled out the seat Ótama had vacated and slid a couple of clear vials across
the table.
She looked from the drugs to him, and read the sheepishness on his expression.
She would have been more shocked at his relative shyness if she weren’t feeling so
damned sheepish herself.
He knows.
She pulled the little bottles closer and wrapped her fingers around them. They
were more valuable per ounce than gold, and the fact he’d brought them to her meant
he knew about his imminent fatherhood.
He’s not upset?
He cleared his throat. “Uh—Mom pulled those out of today’s FedEx delivery. You
have to let the doctor know they have to be stored in a refrigerator. He probably hasn’t
administered it before.”
“She. I have a midwife. And it came fast. I didn’t know your mother would be able
to get it so quickly. There’s usually a waitlist for it. Moon shifter packs have to
stockpile it.”
“I guess she was motivated. She’s been waiting a long time for grandkids.” His
voice was quiet, tone even.
Careful. He’s being careful. If a man from her pack had used that soft voice on her,
she’d know he was trying to keep his temper in check. She wasn’t reading aggression
off him, though. His energy was more or less neutral, almost artificially so.
She drew in a long breath and let his scent—the one that pervaded her skin and
their entire freakin’ house, even when he wasn’t there—hit the back of her nose. Tea.
She put her hand over her mouth to suppress a giggle. He’d been drinking his
mother’s tea.
“She’s probably not going to give you five feet of space when the time comes.
Sorry in advance.”
“No, no. I appreciate it.” Suddenly, Ashley wished she had a cloak like Ótama’s to
fidget with as she sat chatting. She needed some excuse to look away from Vic’s
intense gaze. Anything beyond the fact that she didn’t know what to do with him,
which was silly. In wolf culture, as a mate, she wasn’t supposed to have a say, but that
had never felt right to her. Sometimes, men needed to be called out on their bullshit.
She was certain that was why Adam was a good alpha—because he had a good wife,
and he let her be a good wife.
 I could be a good wife.
The question remained if Vic would let Ashley be one. She wanted to be.
Closing her left fingers around the vial, she pushed back from the table and then
fetched her purse from the nearby sideboard. “Um—if I’m lucky, I could get the
midwife to jab me without an appointment.”
Vic followed her into the hall, down the stairs, and out of the atrium door. He said
nothing as she walked briskly toward the town square, just kept a respectful distance
behind her. It was still close enough to keep the hairs on the back of her neck dancing.
Say something. Don’t be like Ma, holding your tongue and acting like you don’t
know shit. She cringed, and paused at the crosswalk to wait for the light to change.
Glancing back over her shoulder, she dove right in. “Like I said, I’m going to see if I
can get an injection today. This stuff needs to build up. I don’t want to get too close to
the next full moon without it being at its peak effectiveness. Last week was scary.”
He furrowed his brow. “How far along are you? I mean, I can guess, but
pregnancy math doesn’t make sense to me.”
The light turned, and she stepped into the street. “Six weeks, almost seven.”
“Which means you’re due, when?”
“I have no idea.”
“Right. Right. You can’t tell if you’re going to gestate like a human or like a
wolf.”
“Or some average of the two. Last ultrasound said I looked like twelve or thirteen
weeks, so who knows what’s going to happen.”
“When were you going to tell me? Did you think I wouldn’t care?”
She stifled a groan. She had thought that. “In my old pack, a wolf wouldn’t care
unless it were a boy.”
And then that wolf would stop caring about that boy altogether if he decided his
son was a threat to his place in the pack. She couldn’t wrap her mind around anyone
willingly expelling a much-wanted son to preserve his own stature. Certainly, Vic
could, though.
By the time they reached the opposite curb, he was at her side. Her inner wolf
seemed to collapse with relief, as if that was exactly where he belonged, and that he’d
finally come home.
Silly wolf.
“I was going to tell you,” she said. “Probably right after I believed it for myself.”
He jogged ahead of her and pulled open the clinic’s door. “I’d care either way, boy
or girl. Every kid deserves a chance.”
Of course he would think that. He’s a Carbone. And so was she now. She kept
forgetting.
She set the drug vials onto the reception desk and hitched her purse strap higher
up onto her shoulder. When the clerk looked up, she said, “Is Jackie here? I need to
see if she can squeeze me in for a shot.”
“She was about to run out for a break. Let me get her before she escapes.”
Vic leaned against the wall beside the counter and crossed his arms over his chest.
He stared down at her, his gaze long and assessing.
“What?”
“Pregnancy suits you, is all.”
If only I had that cloak… She’d probably pull it over her head to hide her burning
cheeks. She’d never been one for blushing, but apparently, Vic possessed some black
magic that kept her burning up. “How so?”
“For one thing, you smell nice.”
“What do I smell like?”
“It’s hard to describe. It’s my scent, plus a little something else. Extra
pheromones, I guess.”
“Oh. That’s typical of my species of wolf. It’s supposed to keep daddy from
abandoning mama during her time of need.”
“I wouldn’t abandon you.”
“Of course you wouldn’t, now that you’ve sniffed me.”
“No,” he said softly, as if the word would break him. “I wouldn’t abandon you
because I try to do what’s right, even when it’s hard.”
Even when it’s hard. What they had at the moment was definitely hard.
“And even if it’s late. I hope I’m not too late. Am I?”
She opened her mouth to give him the answer her brain hadn’t even thought out
yet, but didn’t have the chance to say it.
The office door swung open and Jackie stuck her head out. “What’ve you got for
me?”
Ashley pulled her gaze away from Vic and all the sorrow etched in his face, and
swallowed hard to force down the lump in her throat. He was trying—admitting he
was wrong—and she knew how hard that was for wolves, especially male ones.
Maybe there was some hope for them after all.
 To Jackie, she said, “Um, it’s that shifting suppressant I told you about. I need to
get a stick once per week through the end of the pregnancy.”
Jackie took the vials. “Come on back and have a seat in exam room two. I want to
check this stuff out in the drug database. I trust you, I just want to know what all the
potential side effects and off-market uses are. Not being wolves, the Afótama
obviously don’t have full moon problems.”
Ashley followed her through the door and Vic skirted in behind her before it shut.
Obviously, he wasn’t going to be content to wait in the lobby. She was glad he wasn’t
going to be content to wait in the lobby. She wanted him near and interested, and on
his own accord.
She settled onto one of the hard, institutional chairs adjacent to the exam table in
room two and hugged her purse against her belly.
Vic paced in front of the door, looking alternately from her to his feet. He couldn’t
have been doing it very long—thirty seconds, at the most—but that was long enough
agitate her inner wolf, who Ashley already had enough problems settling.
“Vic, sit. You’re tying my stomach into knots.”
“Sorry.” He sank onto the chair beside her, but even sitting, his energy was
through the roof. He bobbed his knee and drummed his fingertips atop the armrests.
Obviously, the tea’s calming effects was wearing off.
She clapped a hand over his turbo-charged knee and stilled it, unable to suppress
her chuckle. “Stop. It’s just a shot. It’s not a big deal.”
“It’s not just the shot. It’s a lot of stuff all at once, you know?”
She started to pull her hand back, but he gingerly grabbed her wrist and wrapped
her fingers over his knee again.
He didn’t say anything, but stared at her. His expression was a curious blank, and
never before had Ashley wished so much that she’d possessed some of the Afótama’s
psychic skills. Reading Vic’s mind would be a lot easier than trying to figure out what
to say to him to get him to say what he needed to.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I guess that’s the best place to start. It’s probably not
enough, but it’s all I got.”
“What are you sorry for?” Squeezing the words out of him felt cruel, but she had
to know if they were on the same page, and if he was apologizing for the right things.
There were so many things both of them could be apologizing for. She owed him a
few I’m sorrys, too.
“Mostly, I—I guess I’m sorry for not giving you a real chance.”
 “You were right to be cynical. Look what happened.”
She still didn’t know how her father had gathered that she was leaving. Maybe
he’d guessed preemptively that she wouldn’t stick around and had a contingency plan
in place. Or maybe he’d bugged her apartment. She might never know, and she didn’t
care enough to ask him. She was done with all the bullshit—didn’t have room in her
new life for it. Adam had presented her with the opportunity for a clean break from
her old pack, and she was going to snatch it.
“Cynical, maybe, but not mean. I don’t want to be mean to you. It’s got me all
fucked up, you know? I knew I’d gone too far and that what I said was wrong as soon
as it came out of my mouth. I don’t go around trying to hurt people’s feelings. I do
everything I can to avoid it.”
“Those are words I never expected to hear coming from a wolf.”
He shrugged. “Most wolves don’t have a mother like mine.”
So fuckin’ true. In Ashley’s opinion, Mrs. Carbone should have been sainted.
She’d raised four born alphas while living on the road. Those grunting hunks of fur
and testosterone were her boys, even the ones not related by blood. And they were all
decent men. Surprisingly decent. It was a damned shame that Ashley would be so
surprised.
“I don’t know what’s going on with you and your family—your old pack—right
now. I have to trust, though, that you’re here on good faith.”
“And that I’m not going to sabotage things, huh? I’m not like my father, Vic.”
“I know.” He put his hand over hers and gave it a tentative squeeze.
Such gentleness from a wolf. Given the aggression he’d expended during the last
time they were even a little bit physical, she hadn’t thought he was capable of it.
There were probably a lot of things he didn’t think she was capable of, either. Like
loyalty, kindness, and affection.
But, she was capable. She craved those things and wanted to give them in return.
They meant security, and a wolfpack had nothing without it.
“My allegiances are in the right place. I’m not going to do anything to
compromise this pack, even if that means having to turn my back completely on my
old one. I don’t want their interference. I don’t want the garbage they put out
following me here.”
“Clean break, huh?”
“Yeah, if I can manage it. I’m sure my father has already got folks out on the trail,
hoping to join up and infiltrate. To annex another group of wolves to pay into the pack
dues.” She sighed. “I’ve been doing my research in the past couple of weeks, with
some help. Looks like he had some reach into Lisa’s pack down in Delaware.”
“How many packs has he annexed? No, don’t fuckin’ answer that. I don’t care. If
you want to tell anyone, tell Dad. I don’t want to get my blood pressure up about it.”
“He already knows. I told him.”
“Oh. I guess I missed a lot.”
“Yeah, you’ve missed a lot.”
He cringed.
“It’s all right.”
“It’s not, though. I’m not gonna get mad at you for telling me the truth, even if it
hurts me. I sure as shit gave it to you.”
She nodded, slowly, but even with what had happened, she didn’t want to hurt
him. He’d been hurt enough already—maybe not by her directly—but she understood
why he’d be suspicious of her. She wished they didn’t have that history so that
nothing got in the way of them connecting, but it was like Adam had told her over
dinner a few evenings ago—“It’s not supposed to be easy.”
After two brisk knocks, the door swung open and Jackie stepped in holding a
capped syringe. “I want you to come back in a couple of days so I can check you out.
You should be okay, but you’ll have to humor me for feeling like this is experimental.
There’s only the bare minimum of information available in the database. I imagine
there’d have to be, given the private nature of the people the drug is developed for.
How do you people manage to spawn if you miscarry when you shift?”
“My species of wolf shifts as needed and isn’t pulled by the moon, so it isn’t an
issue,” Vic said. “Moon shifters, though—”
Ashley sighed. “Most of us get knocked up before we get our bites. It’s why our
families aren’t very large, usually. Once a wolf knocks up a bitch, he wants to bite her.
My father managed to resist biting my mother until after I was born. I was kid number
four.”
Jackie set down the syringe and massaged her temples. “Here I was thinking
Afótama mating practices were complicated. All right. Stand and hitch up your dress.
I’ll try not to jab your bony little hip.”
“I’m not bony. I’m streamlined for efficiency. But don’t worry. A few years and a
few kids from now, you probably won’t even be able to find my hipbones, or even my
waist.” She stood, put her back to Jackie, and pulled her dress by the hem.
Vic’s eyes were comically wide as Jackie swiped an alcohol pad over a meaty
stretch of flesh.
 Ashley chuckled. “Scared of needles, wolf?”
“No. You said a few kids from now.”
She cringed. “Yeah. I guess I did. I’m sorry. It was automatic. Ow!”
Jackie giggled and emptied the syringe full of drugs into Ashley’s ass muscle.
Then she pulled out the needle and pressed a bandage over the skin. “All done. Two
days, missy. If you don’t show up, I’ll hunt you down and you won’t remember which
of us is the wolf.”
“That’s cruel. I want a new care provider.”
Jackie grinned. “Good luck. I hear Doctor Lee has cold hands and likes to clear his
throat every fifteen seconds during exams. You’ll never know if he’s just phlegmy or
if he simply doesn’t know what to make of what he’s looking at.”
“Never mind.”
“Thought not.” Jackie waved goodbye and glided away like some kind of graceful,
evil midwife fairy.
“Jeez.”
Chuckling, Vic stood and pressed a hand to the small of Ashley’s back.
She was startled, but then rolled her eyes at herself. He wasn’t going to hurt her.
She knew that. But for as much as she craved his touch, she was unused to it.
“I think we need a reboot,” he said softly. “A do-over.”
She looked up at him. His expression was so earnest—repentant—that she would
have given him anything he wanted at that moment. “A do-over?”
“Sounds stupid, but I can’t think of anything else.”
“Not stupid at all.”
It was romantic, even, and wolf men weren’t much for romance. That didn’t mean
she didn’t crave it, though. “So, what, you wanna meet me at the bench in the
courtyard and let your dad reintroduce us?”
“We don’t need the chaperone. I think we can figure out how to be nice to each
other without being told what to do. Don’t you?”
She nodded and slipped her arm around his. “I have to go back to work and finish
teaching Ótama about—uh—Internet security.”
“I’ll walk you back there.”
And he did. They didn’t talk as they traced their steps back to the executive
mansion, but for once, she felt like they didn’t really need to. They had plenty to talk
about, but they also had plenty of time. They didn’t have to get things right all at
once, and they had a lot of things to fix. They owed it to themselves to go slow and
easy. And to forgive themselves for their rocky start.
He deposited her at the atrium door and gave Darius, who was on guard duty, a
head bob of acknowledgement as he strolled past.
“So—courtyard at five?”
She shifted her weight and mentally ran down the list of things she had to
accomplish with Ótama before the end of the day.
“Never mind.” His cautious grin dissolved into its former, neutral blank. “Maybe
some other time. I’ll see you later, huh?”
He started to turn away, but she grabbed the back of his shirt and gave it a forceful
yank.
“Seven o’clock. If you’re late, I’ll take it personally.”
Bit by bit, the electric tension around him eased and his shoulders relaxed down to
their natural position. He reached out, slowly, and pushed her hair back from her eyes.
“You can touch me, Vic.”
“I don’t feel like I’ve earned the right. Will you let me earn it?”
She bit her lip to keep the hasty words from spilling out, and forced herself to
think for a moment. Forgiving him was an easy thing, and she was probably three-
quarters of the way there already. But, he was showing he didn’t want to take her for
granted. It was a sentiment she’d never expected, and she wanted to learn what such
regard felt like. She wanted to be able to teach her daughters one day, should she have
any, what to demand from their men. First, she needed to figure out what to ask for
herself. Her mother hadn’t been able to teach her that, and would probably never learn
the lesson herself.
“Yeah. I’ll let you, Vic.”
He stroked his thumb along her jaw and a wry smile pulled at the luscious lips she
had yet to kiss. And gods, she wanted to, so she did. It was just a longish peck, but
that small touch was enough to make her heart race and cheeks burn. It made her
inner wolf rejoice and the tension in her gut unfurl. They felt right.
Thank the gods.
She would have swooned if he hadn’t been propping her up.
“Seven, then,” he said with a smug grin, and turned her toward the door.
 EPILOGUE

Vic thought his wife was a bit off her rocker for even entertaining the idea of
letting his mother name their kid, but he didn’t like arguing with her. That pout she
wore whenever his words took on the wrong inflection tore him to shreds on the
inside, and there was only so much of that a man could survive. He’d walked away
from at least five car wrecks, been shot three times, and had once had his femur
crushed by a sailboat mast, but Ashley’s sad-face fucking killed him.
It was easiest to just let the woman have what she wanted, and she wasn’t all that
unreasonable, so it was usually no inconvenience.
But still…naming their son “Adam” might have started a pack war if word ever
got out, and if Vic hadn’t taken certain precautions. Word would get out, of course.
The Norseton Wolves were excellent at keeping secrets, but that didn’t mean everyone
they encountered was. Vendors and delivery people cycled in and out of the
neighborhood all the time, and it wasn’t unreasonable to assume that eventually, word
would get back to New Jersey that Ashley had a son, and that his name was Adam
Carbone.
“Quit fidgeting.” Ashley looked up from the exam gown she’d been loosely tying
over her big belly and furrowed her brow at him. “My inner wolf is cranky enough
with being locked inside me for this long, and your agitated beast isn’t helping
matters.”
“Sorry. I’ll run it off later.”
“Go now.”
“No. I want to know how close you are.”
“Why, so you have a better shot at winning the betting pool?”
Shit. He winced and raked a hand through his hair. It was hard to be a moralistic
asshole while participating in illegal betting behind his wife’s back.
“Thought I didn’t know about it, huh?”
“The prize is five thousand tax-free dollars, babe. It was either I stand back and let
one of the wolfpack assholes or opportunistic Afótama gamblers collect money on my
kid, or I’d toss in some cash and try to scoop it up myself.”
 “Five thousand bucks, huh?” She rubbed her chin and narrowed her eyes. “You
know what I could do with five thousand bucks?”
“You? I was thinking of using it to finish paying off your bride price.”
“Ha ha. I’m worth more than five thousand bucks.”
“So much more, but the going rate on an ex-Madeira with a Carbone husband is
fifty thousand bucks.”
“Whatever, Vic.”
He entwined his fingers and sank a little lower in his seat, pulling his gaze down
to his outstretched legs.
“Seriously, tell me you’re joking.”
If only.
A knock sounded on the door, and Jackie pushed in the portable ultrasound
machine before they could respond. “Let’s see if we can figure out how big this kid is.
Your amnio said his lungs were mature, by the way. So—labor could happen at any
time.”
“Mm-hmm,” Ashley hummed.
Vic looked up at her, and as he expected, found her looking at him, and not Jackie
who was bent over plugging in the machine.
“What?” he mouthed.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Fifty thousand dollars?” She didn’t even bother
whispering, but in five months, he’d learned that was Ashley in general. She didn’t
keep things hidden, and she didn’t lie about important things. She didn’t have to,
because she tried so hard to be decent—maybe harder than anyone would have
expected her to. Sometimes, he wondered if she believed she had something to prove,
and perhaps that was partly his fault.
He sighed. “It’ll be worth every penny.”
“How much have you paid them so far? And where did you get the money? And
what, exactly, does it buy?”
Jackie tamped the bottle of ultrasound goop against her palm and looked from
Ashley to Vic and back. “Should I step out?”
“No need to,” Ashley said. “We’ll probably be loud enough that you could hear us
anyway.”
“You gonna yell at me, babe?” Vic asked.
“If I have to. Have you forgotten how loud Italians can be without trying?”
 “Okay, look. Shit. I used to do penny stock trading in my downtime. I took it up
when I was out of commission because I’d broken my dominant arm. I was going to
use the money on the new house, but this was more pressing.”
“They blackmailed you?”
“Yes and no. A couple of your dad’s enforcers caught up to Anton and me when
we were on the road last month with the Afótama royalty. Let’s just say some threats
were issued—on both ends—and your father agreed to forget you or anyone with the
name Carbone has ever existed for the previously stated amount.”
“You shouldn’t pay it. That pack’s got nothing on us, even if they do outnumber us
ten to one. They’ve got no strength. What the hell do you think they could do? You
guys are already sniffing the mail that comes into this place for bombs and chemicals.
Nobody comes in here that hasn’t been cleared, and us girls rarely even leave the
Norseton boundaries unescorted.”
Jackie turned her stare to Vic and made a Well? gesture. The conversation would
probably turn out to be the most entertaining thing she’d witnessed all day. If she
wanted to see real entertainment, though, he’d direct her to his parents.
“Maybe they can’t really hurt us, but they can annoy the shit out of us. Fifty
thousand dollars is a small price to pay for a little peace if we can get it. We’ve got
enough problems without that petty bastard stirring up drama.”
Ashley pinched the bridge of her nose and sputtered her lips. “You’re giving him
the last laugh. You know that, right?”
He shrugged. “Let him laugh until he cries. He’s not always gonna be the leader of
the pack, and when he’s cast aside, all he’s gonna have are whatever ill-gotten gains
he’s squirreled away. And, you know what? When you go, you can’t take it with you.”
“Wise words, wolf,” Jackie said. She helped Ashley lie back onto the exam table.
“He’s so smart, and I get to go home with him,” Ashley said. “Aren’t I lucky?”
“I’d say,” Jackie said, and switched on the machine.
Vic knew better. She had an obstinate, hardheaded wolf for a mate. If anyone were
lucky, it was he. Fortunately, they had a lot of years ahead for him to prove it to her,
and if it took paying off a bribe to make those years far easier than their rough start
had been—so be it.
She was worth it.
 AUTHOR’S NOTE
Norseton Wolves is something of a series within a series. In the second installment of
my Afótama Legacy novel The Chieftain’s Daughter, a pack of wolves arrives in
Norseton and offers protection services to Queen Tess.

These first four stories, set concurrently, take place in the year following their arrival.

Other stories in the series take place further in the world’s timeline. Maker is a
holiday story set the year after stories 1-4. The stories in the Reckless Desires
collection occur in the year following Maker.

Norseton Wolves Series List

Beast
Loner
Idler
Scion
Maker
Elder
Scout
Seer
Angel

Turn the page for an excerpt of Graciella and Finn’s story, Maker, but before you go,
be sure you’re subscribed to my paranormal romance newsletter so you never miss
news about new Norseton Wolves stories.
 MAKER
Graciella Modesto had to grow up fast to protect herself from the male werewolves in
her old pack. In her new home, she’s got freedom to live as she pleases—and to not
take a mate if she doesn’t want to. Oddly enough, she does want one, and she doesn’t
care what her overprotective big sister thinks about him. To Graciella, it’s clear that
Finn Stilton is meant to be hers.

But Finn doesn’t want to wreck a good thing. A nomad for much of the past ten years,
he’s finally got a safe place to live and he’d like to stay in Norseton. In spite of
objections from his packmates, he can’t leave smart, beautiful Graciella alone. She’s
got magic that can soothe his antsy inner beast, and unlike so many other people in his
life, she seeks out his company rather than avoiding it.

She may be the one woman on Earth who refuses to throw him away. How could he
possibly keep her, though, knowing that her being with a wolf like him means she’s
destined to not achieve anything more than being his wife?
___

CHAPTER ONE
Graciella Modesto wasn’t stalking Finn Stilton, but she seemed to have a knack
for turning up at the same places as him, at the same time. Norseton, New Mexico
was a small, insular community, populated by several thousand decedents of Vikings
—the Afótama—who happened to have some unusual supernatural abilities. The
Norseton Wolfpack, which Graciella had recently transferred to thanks to her sister
Lisa’s creative hustling, lived on the fringes of the desert subdivision. The men
provided security services to the highest-ups in the Afótama community, and the
women did a bit of this and that around town.
Graciella worked in the greenhouses, tending to baby plants when she wasn’t
boring herself to tears with online college coursework, and it seemed no matter what
time she went to work, she ran into Finn.
Or maybe it’s the other way around.
“Bags didn’t break. No points for you.” Finn bent and picked up the fallen bags of
poinsettia potting mix. Graciella had been hauling them off the delivery truck and
accidentally sent a few of the heavy sacks sliding off their stack.
 “Finn, that’s all right. I’ll—”
He spun around and walked backward with the bags on his shoulders, his gray
eyes locking on nothing in particular, but they never did. He was always scanning,
never still.
He made people nervous, but not Graciella.
“Where do ya want them?” he asked.
“Oh, don’t worry.” She grabbed one bag from the bed of the truck, groaned under
the heavy weight, and carried it toward the largest greenhouse where she and the other
staff tended the more mature plants. “This is part of my job. I’ll get them off.”
“Faster if I help. Where do they go?”
“Um…” Shouldn’t he be on security duty? The wolves worked pretty tight shifts
and didn’t have much downtime during the day, but she wasn’t going to look a gift
horse in the mouth. Her back was killing her. Five minutes of assistance would be a
huge help since she was working alone.
She canted her head toward a long, wooden bench at the left of the entrance.
“Over there is fine. There’s where I’m going to be potting today.”
“Easy.” He let the bags fall and strode to the truck, picking up two more before
Graciella had managed to even set down her first one.
Of course he was strong, though. He was a born werewolf, just like her. The
difference between them, though, was that being male, he could shapeshift. She
wouldn’t be able to until she had her mate’s bite, and as she’d only turned eighteen a
few months ago, she didn’t anticipate that happening anytime soon. Her sister Lisa—
who’d brought her to Norseton to free Graciella from a premature, arranged mate
match—wanted Graciella and their younger sister, Leticia, to put off serious
relationships as long as they could. Lisa was twenty-eight when she’d taken a mate’s
bite, and that had worked out well for her. She had the perfect mate for her Type A
personality, which basically meant Colt let her do whatever she wanted within the
confines of their own home. For the moment, Graciella lived with them, and she tried
to ignore the noises coming from the master bedroom. She didn’t believe her sister
should be chaste—not by any stretch of the imagination—but at the same time, she
didn’t necessarily want nightly evidence that Lisa wasn’t.
Graciella grabbed another bag of dirt, and Finn whooshed past her again.
“How many ya have to pot?” he called back.
It took her brain a moment to break down the question and understand his words.
He spoke so quickly, and sometimes that Appalachian accent of his was downright
indecipherable.
 “Today, I think around a hundred. The plan is to get a plant to everyone in the
community who wants one.” She dropped a second bag onto the bench as Finn
returned with his fifth and sixth ones.
“Wolves, too?” he asked.
“Yeah. They’re poisonous to dogs, though, so we probably shouldn’t eat them.”
She laughed at the silly joke her boss had made, and then rolled her eyes at herself.
Her sense of humor could use some upgrading.
“Ain’t too fond of vegetables, no way.” He shrugged and trooped out the door
again.
She followed. “Really, Finn, you don’t have to unload this thing. The driver went
to have lunch, and I told him I’d be done by the time he got back. I’ve got at least an
hour to get it done, and I don’t think it’s an hour’s work.”
“I’ll do it in five minutes.” He passed her again with two more bags.
“You don’t have to, though. It was my fault those few fell.”
“I scared ya.”
“Yes, you frightened me a little, but—”
Zoom. He passed her again. She’d already lost count of how many bags he’d
carried.
“I had my ear buds in,” she finished, even if he wasn’t in earshot.
Groaning, she stomped into the greenhouse and pulled the wheelbarrow out of one
of the back corners. This ought to speed things along so he can get back to work. She
appreciated the help, but didn’t want to get him in trouble with their alpha. Adam
Carbone was the go-between for the wolves and the Afótama, as far as their security
jobs were concerned.
“Smart,” Finn said as she pushed the wheelbarrow out. Then he took over steering
it the rest of the way.
“Uh, Finn, I can—”
“Y’all got white poinsettias, too?”
“Well, yes.” She jogged to keep up with him. The man was in perpetual motion.
“Red ones, white ones, some gold ones, and there are some variegated ones, too.”
“Variegated. Variegated?” He snapped his fingers rapidly for a few seconds and
shifted his weight. “I know that word. I—” He tucked his black hair behind his ears
and dropped one bag and then another one into the wheelbarrow. “Colors are
different.”
“Right. They’re kind of spotted.”
 “You like those?”
“I’m kind of partial to the red ones, to be honest.” She shrugged, and got out of the
man’s way.
He’d climbed up onto the truck bed and was tossing bags down into the
wheelbarrow in a fast and furious speed that made her head swim. Then he hopped
down and pushed the full cart into the greenhouse.
She threw a leg onto the tailgate, and cringed at the few remaining bags all the
way at the back. He was very nearly done. Five minutes, just like he’d said.
Returning already with the wheelbarrow emptied, he put his hands gently to her
waist and pulled her back from the truck. “Almost done.”
“Um. Yeah, I just noticed. Finn, really, you don’t have to—”
“Gotta get rid of energy. Christina said so.”
“Your sister told you to come haul dirt?”
“No.” He climbed up into the truck once more and pushed the few remaining bags
toward the tailgate. “I was just walkin’. She gives me errands sometimes during my
breaks. I was headin’ to get her some diapers. She don’t even have to use ’em, ’cause
she uses cloth, mostly.”
“How’s Cecily doing? Sleeping any better?”
He snorted. “Nah. She be up all night.”
Cecily was one of the two newborns in the Norseton Wolfpack, and the two little
ones were cousins. The other baby was a little boy named Adam, who happened to
belong to the pack alpha’s son. Vic’s first cousin was Anton, Christina’s mate, and he
was the guy who kept Finn out of trouble, supposedly.
Like most of the men in the pack, Finn was inexperienced in social situations
because he’d been expelled from his birthpack as a teen. Their new alpha had a habit
of taking in wolf ‘rejects.’
“I won’t keep you from getting the diapers. I can get the rest of these.”
He ignored her and tossed the remaining bags onto the pile in the wheelbarrow.
“You here all alone?”
“For the moment. There’s a full-time gardener, but he cuts back his hours this time
of year, and I don’t mind picking up the slack. It’s nice to have a little spending
money. I’m so used to not having any.”
“Know the feelin’. You ain’t seen recyclin’ until you seen a hillbilly use the same
square of tin foil five, six times. Mama woulda knocked us out cold if we’d throwed
anything away.”
 Again, it took Graciella’s brain a moment to parse his words and make
substitutions where necessary. Christina and her brother had the same accent, but her
English was more standard. She’d had more schooling, and according to her, Finn
hadn’t attended much even when he’d been enrolled. That was typical where they
were from. If wolves weren’t working and earning money to pay dues to their alpha,
they weren’t doing their fathers any good.
“I bet now, you feel like you have more cash than you know what to do with,” she
said.
He grunted. “Ain’t that the truth.”
Graciella didn’t know how much the wolves earned doing security, but Adam was
savvy, and she suspected he wouldn’t negotiate a deal that would have put them in
worse straits than they’d been in before they’d arrived the previous year.
Alpha, his wife—Mrs. Carbone—Vic, Anton, Colt, and fourth wolf named Darius
had lived on the road for most of the past two decades. Working with the Afótama had
given them an opportunity to finally settle down and establish their own kind of pack
—one where being a reject was the norm.
“I like being able to keep most of it,” he said. “My old alpha—”
“You don’t even have to say it. I already know. My parents had, like, five or six
jobs between the two of them at any given time, and we never had any money, except
for what Lisa hid away. They were paying more in dues than they were in taxes, and
still somehow managed to end up in pack collections every other month.”
“It’s a damn racket.”
“Yep.”
He pushed the wheelbarrow into the greenhouse yet again, and she followed.
“What do you think they spend all that dues money on, anyway? As far I could
tell, it never trickled back down to the pack.”
“Spendin’ it on drugs and guns, probably. Or their own houses. I bet they got real
fine furniture inside, and two or three trucks in their garages. Hear tell that most of
’em don’t even have driver’s licenses.”
Graciella shrugged. “They break so many laws, I guess they figure, what’s one
more?”
Finn rubbed his hands together, as if his fingers had suddenly gone stiff and he had
to work the circulation back into them. Then he paced a bit in front of the bench,
quickly scanning the rows of plants. “Nice and humid in here.”
“Oh, you noticed that, huh? I come over sometimes when I’m not supposed to be
working just for the wet heat. I miss it, with me living out west now. I never thought
I’d say that. I used to complain so much about how hot it was, but I think I much
prefer oppressive damp to this dry, New Mexican climate.”
“Christina’s the same way. Always cold.” He scrunched his forehead. “I think
she’s low on iron, though. Takes these big ol’ pills every night after supper.”
He glanced down at his watch, grunted, and walked toward the door.
“Well, see ya, Finn. And thanks for helping with the dirt. You’re sparing my back
an ache come tomorrow.”
“Mm-hmm. I’ll be right back.”
“Why?”
He kept walking. “You said you had to pot a hun’red poinsettias.”
“I do, but shouldn’t you be working?”
He waved. “Nah.”
She scratched her head, then shrugged and giggled.
Such an unusual wolf.
And that was probably why she couldn’t stop thinking about him.
-Maker is available now.-
 COPYRIGHT AND CREDITS
THE NORSETON WOLVES MATE CALL COLLECTION
Copyright © 2016 by Holley Trent

Contains:
Beast © 2015 by Holley Trent
Loner © 2015 by Holley Trent
Idler © 2015 by Holley Trent
Scion © 2015 by Holley Trent

Excerpt of Maker © 2015 by Holley Trent

Cover art stock:
© iordani via Dollar Photo Club

Copy edits by K. Stein, Missed Period Editing

All rights reserved. Reproduction of any part of this book in any format, except for
reviewing purposes, is allowed only with prior consent of the author.

The stories in this collection are works of fiction. Names, places, entities, and
scenarios in this collection are products of the author’s imagination or used
fictitiously.