by J. K Harper
Even so, she had to admit seeing the fire of his wolf light his eyes was a little—interestingly intense.
Kind. Her wolf's word drifted through her mind, shocking her a bit. She'd been ignoring her wolf for so long now she'd nearly forgotten what it felt like to have that side of her rise up. Odder still, her wolf thought Caleb was kind?
Rielle shook her head. Caleb stood there, simply looking at her.
“Why are you staring at me?” she asked. Her throat felt a little tight, which meant she was flustered. Language was something Rielle had down pat, what with her love of reading and her position as the Pack's historian. Despite that, whenever she felt put on the spot, her throat seized up a bit, as if words lodged in there, trapped.
Caleb grinned. It lifted his face from warrior-tough to genuinely open and almost inviting. The barest hint of crinkles surrounded his blue eyes, and he looked suddenly relaxed.
“You were staring at me, shaking your head.” That bass voice rumbled into her ears. “I was trying to figure you out, but I thought I'd better keep my mouth shut this time. Safer option.”
Rielle let out an apologetic breath. “I'm not usually rude—” she began. He cut her off again with the slightest movement of his head and a “mm-mm” sound. He'd forgiven her and moved on already.
“So, Ree.”
That smile really changed his whole demeanor, made him seem much more approachable, somehow. She smiled back at him, softening a bit.
“Can I walk you somewhere?” he said. “Since you don't have a date, are you just heading home?”
What? She blinked. It wasn't like her life was so pathetic and boring. Well, fine. Caleb Bardou might be one good-looking wolf, and he had been trying to smooth over her tactless gaffe earlier, but clearly he was still a big dumb ox.
“I may not have a date,” she said, voice rigid, “and yes, I'm going home, but for your information that's exactly where I want to be. There's nothing wrong with that!”
She shoved past his imposing, ox-like bulk—and why did he have to smell so good, all sort of woodsy-sweaty and manly, and why did that even smell good to her, really?—and clicked down the sidewalk. Heels were fun to wear, but they lacked a bit in the angry-stamping-away department.
“Ree! What the hell!”
Caleb caught up to her in about a quarter of a stride and planted himself in front of her. The blue eyes were darker, edgier, and had no traces left of the laughter. Ah, yes. Caleb the fighter, in full pugnacious mode.
“Excuse me. I'm trying to go to my very dull home, but there's a rather large guy blocking my way. Could you please move?”
She glared up at him. It was a good thing she hardly ever saw him. Since every encounter seemed to go like this, Caleb was likely to tip her right over the edge into an apparently more crass, graceless self.
Thundercloud face back, arms waving around, he leaned down to her as he spoke. “I did not say your house was boring! Or dull! I just offered to walk you home because of the very reasons I said about two minutes earlier. It's not as safe out here anymore. You shouldn't be walking around alone, anyway. Alpha should put a stop to it.”
Rielle's wolf pushed at her mind a bit, startling her even more. A faint whine tinged with an even fainter growl whispered through the edges of her mind before dissipating.
“Alpha has no problems with me living in town.” Why did Caleb have to be so darn big? “I'm not the only wolf who does, and I got his permission to do so, anyway. Until and unless he says I can't walk around alone any longer, I'm going to keep doing it. I'm not totally helpless, Caleb.”
It was almost fascinating, the way she could practically see the steam coming out of his ears. He really needed to get a handle on his anger.
“Well, for shit's sake, Rielle.” She flinched the tiniest bit at his phrasing, which he caught. His eyes narrowed at her a bit. “If you're so big and bad, fine. You just flounce on home in those heels and that cute, fluffy little dress you have on all by yourself.”
“My dress isn't fluffy! These are chiffon panels, they float—”
Caleb actually groaned and dropped his face into his palms for a moment, effectively halting her outraged words.
“You know what, Ree?” he said to his hands. “I was trying to be a gentleman. Which I admit my sister says I suck at. But I tried.”
Caleb lifted his head and looked at her again. His expression hovered between slightly disgusted and long-suffering. Rielle caught her lip between her teeth, which immediately drew his eyes to her mouth for a split second. She almost missed it.
“You just go ahead and float on home in your chiffon panels, then.”
What a big—doofus. Rielle felt her mouth open a bit, but her throat tightened up. Darn it.
“I've got other things to take care of. Good night, Rielle. Have a nice evening.”
With that, Caleb turned on one foot in a graceful move she instinctively recognized as a predator's, and strode across the street. He turned down the next one and disappeared.
She stood on the sidewalk for a moment longer, feeling confused and oddly alone.
“Well,” she finally said, more to her own jumble of thoughts than anyone else. Okay, then. She and her dress would just float on home. The streets were perfectly safe, and she could take care of herself.
Rielle headed home, paying no attention to anything other than the irritated thoughts churning around in her mind.
* * *
Caleb kept to the shadows, silent and unseen as he followed Rielle until she made it safely to her door. He waited until his sensitive hearing caught the sound of the door lock tumblers snicking into place before he turned and slowly headed back into town. She hadn't even realized he was following her. No self-protective instincts in her. She could be jumped by any old rogue walking around town.
Always keep Pack safe, his wolf insisted. Always.
Caleb rubbed his head, which felt somewhat jarred by the events of the last ten or so minutes. Of course he had to keep Pack members safe. That was the only reason he'd followed the damned annoying little wolf home, to make sure she'd get there in one piece.
Yeah. That had to be the only reason.
Right?
3
“Oh, this one is absolutely divine on you!”
The gaggle of cooing, giggling young women crowded around the bride-to-be, who looked absolutely stunning in a soft yellow reception dress Rielle had hand picked for her to try on. The girl's face shone with a positively rapturous glow.
Rielle sighed to herself, though she kept her professional smile firmly plastered on her face. She loved the way High Peaks Couture made dreams come true for so many people. She felt very confident about herself every time she wore flattering clothes, so she understood firsthand the power of good clothes to improve self-esteem. Bringing a smile to someone else's face and a little uplift to their day was one of the job perks for her.
Yet every time a wedding party came in to find dresses for the reception, or the mother-in-law, or the honeymoon, Rielle let her imagination get carried away by the excitement and emotion surrounding the event. Getting married was high on her list of life goals. She didn't talk about it much, though. In the shifter world, being mated was seen as the pinnacle. The more human tradition of marriage, while still followed by many shifters, was usually considered more as icing on the cake than being really important.
Even so, instead of mating, she dreamed of marriage. Starting with a huge, beautiful wedding to her perfect, amazing, wonderful husband.
Whomever he might be. She sure hadn't met any candidates yet. At all. Ever.
“I think I'll take this one.” The girl's face beamed at Rielle as she twirled around in her dress. “I love it! My fiancé will, too.”
“Of course. Let me wrap it. It really is perfect for you!” Rielle said, offering a genuine smile.
While she rang up the wedding purchases at the register, an image of Caleb popped into her head. She frowned and immediately felt slightly agi
tated. Why on earth he had to run into her—literally—last night was a mystery. Then he just went and proved again what a bumbling guy he was. He was so clueless. Sure, he'd tried to be nice for a second, but then he tripped over his own feet again.
How he managed to have women panting after him was sheer mystery, she thought with a suddenly savage frown. She tried to forget how sexy he had looked. How big he was. How good he'd smelled.
An image of Caleb's wolf popped into her mind: big, strong, handsome, protective, ready to fight. A tendril of longing leapt through her, almost making her gasp. It almost felt like her wolf was stirring. Her wild side, the part of her that made her want to do irrational things like howl at the full moon, run in the woods with her pack, kiss a big, brawny guy who was all muscle and no brains. It just felt so—uncontrolled.
With effort, she thrust away the disturbing thoughts. Lifting her lips into a semi-smile again, she focused her gaze on the delicate dress as she carefully packaged it into a pretty store bag.
Caleb was a manly man. A guy's guy. The kind who always appealed to women who didn't care if the guy they went for was a Neanderthal. The women who craved that sort of guy. That, however, was definitely not Rielle's style. She wanted a smart, academic, courteous guy who knew how to live a calm, rational life. After all, she was like that. Like attracted like, which had always made sense to her.
Very deep down, her wolf let out a tiny whine. Insistent despite its faraway presence. The sound tapped at Rielle's heart. The urge to get out on a run in wolf form made her jittery, as it had been for a few months now. Running as a wolf was so...wild, though. Shivering, she pushed away the images of racing through miles of open space, accompanied by a huge male wolf.
The unsettled feelings stayed with her as she finished wrapping up. Keeping her cheerful smile on, she thanked the customers for coming in, told them about the elegant discount card she'd slipped into the bags for their next time in, and waved as they bustled out the door in a whirlwind of smiles and laughter, with the bride-to-be at the center of it all.
The place felt suddenly dim when all that cheerfulness left.
Still restless, she walked around the store. Arranging and re-arranging the displays and clothes always soothed her. The middle of the day was usually quiet, and she'd sent the assistant clerk home about an hour ago, so she had the place to herself. Touching the silky, pretty fabrics always made her feel elegant, as if she lived in a castle surrounded by luxury. The plush carpeting beneath her feet added to the luxurious feel of the store, and she reveled in it as she slowly walked around her charming little castle.
A castle without a prince.
“Oh, snap out of it,” she muttered at herself. “Just because you can't get a date.”
Shaking her head a little, she wondered for a moment if this was how crazy old cat ladies got started: they talked out loud to themselves about their lack of a dating life, which in itself pointed out why they couldn't get a guy to buy them a drink.
Besides, it wasn't like she couldn't get a date. Of course she could get a date. Guys smiled at her all the time. They gave her appreciative looks when she wore her cutest tops, or when they waited in line behind her at the coffeeshop.
Well...they never actually asked her out. Sure, she smiled back if they seemed like the right kind of guy—thoughtful, smart, ambitious without being cutthroat—but it never led anywhere.
She hadn't been on a date since high school. Here she was now, almost 24 years old, and she hadn't been on a date in six years. Well, okay, she'd been on a few dates. They just hadn't been real dates. More like study meet-ups, group outings her few college friends had dragged her to and which always ended with her almost out of her skull from boredom most of the evening. One memorable time, there had been the date with that shifter from the central New Mexico pack. Her parents had strong-armed her into meeting him because her mother had known his mother back in the day. They both thought it would be so sweet if their offspring got together.
That wolf had shown up covered in tattoos and sporting an eyebrow piercing. Just another big guy, all muscle and tough attitude but no class. All he'd wanted to talk about were his aspirations to be a Guardian for his pack, his gym workouts, and that Rielle was a lot more girly than the female wolves he usually met. Definitely not a match made in heaven.
Another strong image of Caleb bounced into her head. First his wolf form, then human. In each image, he was grinning and just looked so—very intriguing. An image of him loping through the desert night slipped through as well.
Rielle rubbed her forehead, feeling the frown creasing it as she paced the store. Fine. Maybe if she went on a good, hard, long run, not only would her wolf go back to being quiet and settled down, but she'd also be able to get rid of that big, clueless male wolf who kept running in circles around her thoughts.
A welter of images pattered at her mind, so sudden and overwhelming she closed her eyes.
Caleb, arguing as fiercely as he dared with the Alpha during a Pack meeting about the rogues. His face animated, his body energy wild and rough, with his wolf's tension obviously lurking just beneath the surface as he paced the room.
Caleb, heading out on patrol from the den one day when Rielle was there attending to historian business. Big, muscled, taking up more than half the space as he'd approached her. He never seemed dangerous to her, though. Just so at ease in his own body, so fluid in his movements. He'd nodded at her in the hallway, blue eyes friendly, then stopped to ask with genuine curiosity if being the Pack's historian was interesting. Did she get to read about battles a lot? Oh, and did she want to go on a run later with him and some of the others? She'd said no, of course, but the memory of the longing that tugged at her stayed fresh in her memory as if it had happened this morning.
Caleb, the first time he had to make a presentation at a Pack meeting. Standing in front of the room full of shifters in the den's meeting room, forty-odd wolves sprawled all over the place, watching him as he stumbled through his words. She remembered his stiff posture, the way his eyes kept flicking toward the Alpha, his father, as if to check his own progress by watching his father's observation of the scene. Since Rielle could never stand for anyone to be suffering, even if it was just from a fear of public speaking, she'd sent out a bare tendril of her Pack bond to Caleb, putting as much of her own calming energy into it as she could. She'd known he felt it when his eyes found her. He watched her the rest of the time. His words had evened out, come more surely, as Rielle supported him throughout his presentation.
Afterward, he'd come up and awkwardly thanked her. They'd both been in high school then. Rielle remembered trying to cover her annoying pimples—if only shifter genes could conquer those socially demoralizing little things!—with one hand while trying to suavely accept his thanks.
Of course, he'd stepped on her foot when he turned to leave. Even so, she remembered how touched he'd seemed that she'd lent him some of her soothing presence. He'd already been pretty strapping at that age, towering over her. For a wolf that big to be so gentle to her was something she'd remembered.
“Hmm,” she said aloud. She fussed harder with a mannequin's dress.
Her phone's tinkling ring coming from behind the sales counter sent her hurrying back to it. The choices of who would be calling her while she was at work were limited, but right now she needed the distraction.
She fished around in her favorite purse (Coach, of course, a gorgeous soft leather in shades of coral, ginger, and cocoa, big enough she could practically stuff herself into it) and pulled out the small, almost annoyingly cheerful device. Maybe it was time to change that ring tone.
When she looked at the screen, she almost dropped the phone. The name caleb bardou flashed at her, demanding to be answered.
4
Caleb crashed into the mat, hard, and rolled onto his back wheezing and gasping for air.
“You sure didn't see that move coming, did you?” Rafe asked in that deceptively mild tone he used a lot. Big b
rother stood over him, hands on hips, shaking his head as Caleb lay there like a landed fish. He couldn't even find the air to answer yet.
“You've been training like a maniac for months now. Where's your concentration today?”
Caleb gave his brother a simple reply that involved one of his fingers as he lay there trying to make his lungs work again. Rafe snorted out a chuckle.
Foolish, his wolf rumbled in his head. Yeah, that was true enough. He worked out hard and trained harder to prevent exactly this sort of situation in real life: a rogue getting the drop on him somewhere. Those tricky bastards were out there, and they were plotting something. Maybe Alpha didn't want to see it, maybe he wanted to play kumbaya with them all, but Caleb wasn't buying it for a second. Rogues were rogue for a reason, and it wasn't because they liked to play nice with well-ordered packs.
“You need to keep a cool head when fighting, Caleb.” Rafe's mild voice nevertheless held a warning.
Still too winded to reply, Caleb shook his head and glared as ferociously as he could while still trying to gasp. The time for a cool head was over. The rogues wanted to play dirty? Fine with him. Rafe could be the cool head in the pack. Caleb's was on fire, and he liked it that way.
His wolf growled in enthusiastic agreement.
Rafe's lips twisted in the way Caleb knew meant disapproval. He didn't care. Rafe wasn't his alpha. He was very close to leaving anyway, to go start his new pack way up north by the Canadian border. Caleb only had to answer to the Black Mesa Alpha. So far, his father hadn't said anything specific about his actions, except that he wasn't to go after any rogues just yet. As soon as that order was lifted, though, Caleb planned to start his own battles.
