“My sister is here. She’s behind you. Chr…”
“Uhh!” The giant held up a hand. “Don’t say her name! Don’t say it. And I won’t look at her and maybe it’s not too late, though that didn’t work last time.” He gestured in back of him. “Whoever you are—don’t say a single word.” Looking up at the ceiling, he muttered while shaking his head. “She had to be his sister—had to be.” He glanced at Vanessa briefly and said, “Congratulations. You look great, Nessa, and he looks healthy.” Christa got a brief glance at high cheekbones and a flat nose before he spun away and left the room—in a rush.
“What the hell was that about?” Dane asked his wife, who looked pale as a ghost.
Vanessa’s mouth was hanging open.
Dane scowled at the door with narrowed eyes. “What did he mean not again?”
Vanessa closed her mouth, swallowed, and shot a glance at Dane.
“Oh, hell no. He didn’t just scent-match on my sister.” He went to the door and yelled, “Don’t even come sniffing around, Jordan! I can’t believe you scent-matched on her!”
Uhh, well, that was…great. The hospital probably was loving that. Could you get kicked out of a hospital? If you did, did they get to keep the kid?
Vanessa cleared her throat. “You didn’t have to yell, Dane.”
She couldn’t agree more with her sister-in-law.
Then Vanessa brushed a hand down her hospital gown and added, “I don’t know if it’s technically an answer, but he said, ‘He’d rather die.’”
“Yeah, he will die if he even thinks it,” Dane growled into the hallway.
Okay, this was nuts. She didn’t have a clue what her brother was all worked up about. It’s like they were speaking another language. “Dane, I don’t think death threats go over really well in a hospital—especially in the maternity ward.”
Dane didn’t answer. He went over to the chair nearest Vanessa and the baby and almost fell into it before dropping his face into his hands.
Vanessa shot her a smile that was more of a grimace and then patted Dane’s head. “Baby, you sort of like Jordan now.”
“His name is Jordan, not Nathanial?” It was a little confusing when they seemed to be throwing around random names and speaking in gibberish.
“Nathanial is his middle name,” Vanessa said.
Dane shook his head and spun to face Christa. Pointing, he said, “You are not to have anything to do with the man who just left. Do you hear me? Nothing. Ever.” He made a slicing motion with his hand and added another “ever” for good measure. Her brother could get heavy-handed every so often, but she’d learned to let it roll off her.
“Does he live near you guys?” she asked. This didn’t bode well for the question she’d come to ask in addition to getting the chance to see her newborn nephew.
“Yes. He practically runs the town we’re in—or he thinks he does. He isn’t in charge of my family!” Dane shouted.
Vanessa patted his arm.
Christa winced—and not just because her brother was back to shouting.
“Why did you ask about that?” Dane asked.
“I was hoping I could come stay in your spare room for a few weeks.” Dane’s eyes widened, so she hurried to head him off. “Just for a few weeks. My MS is really bad, but my roommate got picked up for possession, and I’m afraid she’ll start hiding stuff in my…stuff. Also, she’s been high for like two weeks now, and I don’t want to be the one to discover her body.”
Her brother’s mouth dropped open.
He’d warned her that Mackenzie was too much of a party animal to live with after she was out of college, but Mackenzie hadn’t been bad—up until her latest boyfriend had caught her sleeping with his best friend and dumped her. Then it was a downward spiral Christa couldn’t seem to help her break out of. It’d been two months of hell—of trying to get help for Mackenzie and taking away her meth and flushing it, but you couldn’t keep up with a determined addict, and Mackenzie was en route to the morgue at this rate.
Also, the more Christa stressed out about it, the worse her MS got. She was starting to feel like a zombie from how much she was sleeping to recover, and Mackenzie was using her crash-naps to get high. So, no—no more. It was over. She was leaving it up to Mackenzie’s family to help her rather than torpedo her own life.
“I’m in the middle of a flare-up, and I can’t pack up everything and find another place and then move in. Dad was going to help me dump everything in storage, but he said I should stay with you until this relapse ends. I guess Mom has bitten off more than she can chew with that charity thing she’s organizing, and he thinks it’ll just stress me out more. So, it’s you—or maybe a hotel.”
Vanessa opened her mouth to say something.
Christa held up her hand, stalling her. “I’m boarding Lucifer, and I swear I will sterilize all my clothes in bleach if I have to. I know you’re allergic. I swear you will not find so much as microscopic traces of cat on me. Cross my heart and hope to die.”
Both Vanessa and Dane winced.
Yeah, that was a bit morbid. But she was going to be super careful that her cat didn’t kill Vanessa—not that he’d ever do it on purpose. Lucifer’s name had come with him, but he was the sweetest cat in the world. He was so sweet Dane had seriously overfed him the last time he stayed with her brother—so it was just as well Lucifer wouldn’t be spoiled like that again. Boarding him would be good for him. He’d discover he wasn’t the only cat in the world.
Dane growled and dropped his face into his hands again.
“I guess I can stay in a hotel. I mean, you do have a new baby.”
“It’s not that!” Vanessa smiled, admitting, “Well, it’s a little that, but it’s not enough to say no to family.” She brushed a hand through Dane’s hair. “Dane, I’ll talk with Jordan. He won’t come anywhere near her.”
“He won’t be able to help it,” her brother muttered into his hands.
“He will.” She lowered her voice. “He wouldn’t be Alpha if he couldn’t.”
Alpha? It sounded like he belonged to some weird club.
Dane looked up and pointed at her. “Fine! You can stay with us. But if you see that guy who just left, or a black wolf, tell me, and I’m keeping my shotgun near the door.” He jumped to the window and opened it. “Did you hear that? I’m keeping my shotgun near the door, and you know I don’t miss.”
“Oh, for the love of…” Vanessa gave her an apologetic look. “It’ll be fine. He’s just a bit protective.”
“And psycho.” Her brother was acting like a total freak.
Vanessa shrugged.
…
Jordan dropped against the side of the hospital building and took deep, gulping breaths while brushing at his clothes. He’d have to burn them. They smelled too much like—whoever she was…whoever his new “I can’t live without you” mate was.
His forehead felt clammy, and he wiped the cold sweat away. This couldn’t be happening…again. No one had heard of this happening…again. If anything happened to the mate you scent-matched to, well, too bad—you were screwed; you had one chance at it.
Or not…apparently.
He’d seen a glimpse of some tiny female in a chair near the sink and then caught a whiff of her. His brain had reacted like he’d inhaled a live wire. His primal instincts had taken over, short-circuiting his rational mind, and he’d wanted nothing more than to grab his female and drag her off with him.
She smelled like brown sugar and vanilla, and his mouth had started watering like she was cinnamon rolls fresh out of the oven…and then he’d caught just a hint of Dane’s scent. She smelled a bit like Dane—which made it creepy as hell that he was so outrageously attracted to her. That’s what had brought him to his senses.
It hadn’t killed his attraction, as it should have, but it had thrown some cold water on his reaction so he’d been able to be rational—well, semi-rational. Okay, so he’d run as fast as he could, and now Dane kept yelling threats b
ecause they’d figured out what had happened.
It’d been two years since that day at the cabin when it’d all gone to hell, and he hadn’t taken a mate since—something that didn’t please his pack, because the Alpha was expected to mate. But his previous mate, Cheri—his first strike—had tried to kill Vanessa. She’d even been scheming with his second strike, his scent-match, Sammy. Then, there was Vanessa, his third strike. He’d intended to take her as his alpha female—and she’d scent-matched with Dane when he’d sent her out on patrol as a challenge to her ability to submit. It was just as well. She was about as submissive as, well, Dane, but…nonetheless, three strikes, and he was done.
He was never going to even so much as look at another female again.
Ever.
It was making him as cranky as a rabid wolf, but they were approaching two years “murder-free” in the pack, and he was finally nearing vengeance against the poachers. After Garret set up the meeting, they’d be that much closer to gaining something from the deaths two years ago.
And, now, this…
He wiped his forehead again. His heart was pounding, and there wasn’t enough air in the world that didn’t smell like her. It was like the smell was burned into him. He couldn’t get her scent out of his head—it filled him, and he’d memorized it. Last time this happened, he’d only smelled his mate’s scent when she was in wolf form, so the scent-match had dragged him back into that form and played havoc with all his primal urges. He’d been all instinct—all the time. This time, it felt rational and right and healthy, but that didn’t matter—she was Dane’s sister.
Plus, she’d looked tiny. She might be young—possibly a minor. In that glimpse, she’d looked fragile, and he’d wanted to gather her into his arms and protect her from the world, which, being as she was Dane’s sister, would probably earn him a punch to the face from her, even if she was twelve—especially if she was twelve.
“I have paid!” he shouted at the sky…which earned him a look from an orderly pushing an elderly patient in a wheelchair. Jordan cleared his throat and pointed at his ear. “I’m on the phone,” he mouthed.
They still looked alarmed.
Well, they should be. He was Alpha of the Glacier pack—that meant something, dammit—even if he had sent half his pack with another Alpha, been living like a monk, and was scent-matched to Dane’s toddler sister.
Now the orderly was probably checking if they were looking for a mentally ill patient.
Jordan couldn’t stop sweating like he was fighting an addiction—which he was. He was alarmed. He was running scared.
Screw this.
He’d come back for his car some other time…or he’d have a member of his pack come get it, because he could do that. No primal urges imprinted into the fiber of his being were going to take him down this time. He ran into the nearby trees. Once they hid him from sight, he shifted, leaving behind the clothes that smelled like her. He was the wind. He was king of the forest. The altered consciousness took over, and his primal side howled. Yes! Run. Free. He ran for about fifty feet, turned back, and lay down just inside the tree line watching a car that smelled like his mate.
Mate.
Mine.
Aw hell.
Chapter Two
She’d always thought Dane was logical or could be logical, but when she’d gotten up to go two hours later, after cuddling her nephew and talking about the birth with Vanessa, he’d wanted Vanessa to get up from the hospital bed, follow her out, and smell things. Vanessa had patted his cheek and said, “Baby, you’re scaring your sister. Also, your son needs to be changed, and I just pushed him out of a far-too-small hole earlier today so you’re changing diapers all day—and maybe every day because they don’t smell as bad to you.”
Dane had grumbled about both things, and Christa had made her escape while he was still protesting.
He’d wanted his wife to come down and smell things?
Okay, so, her parents hadn’t noticed, but they also hadn’t spent as much time with Vanessa and Dane. Something was weird about their relationship—beyond them mating like bunnies. She’d wanted to take the hose to them at the Christmas party two weeks ago, when Vanessa was on the verge of giving birth.
On the other hand, when you found out you had a debilitating illness, you gave up things—dreams, expectations, worries. She’d given up suspending her disbelief. As far as she was concerned, nothing was outside the realm of possibility. It took too much time to worry about whether something was possible or not possible. If it was happening, it was possible, and she’d accept it. Also, she’d given up her dream of being an astronaut, but really, it was past time for that.
So if Dane wanted Vanessa to come down and smell things—okay, whatever…but she’d just given birth. Since he was so resolute, though, she’d smell things on Vanessa’s behalf and tell Dane it was good and done—things had been smelled.
She stepped outside the hospital and inhaled. Wow, today smelled amazing. She even felt a little better. Maybe it was because she’d settled this thing with her roommate and gotten out of that apartment, which really didn’t smell nearly as good as this place. Mackenzie had stopped taking care of herself a few weeks back, so Christa had thrown her in the shower fully clothed a few times, done her laundry, and washed the dishes. But still, there was nothing like being outside in Washington State—outside the city—to remind you that nature wasn’t so far away.
But seriously, it smelled really good. So good. Dane was right. Vanessa should have come out here and sucked in a good deep lungful of this stuff. It smelled like…trees and heat and forever.
She’d been walking toward her car, but she stopped.
What?
Heat?
It was like forty degrees out here.
Forever?
What the crap did forever smell like?
Okay, maybe she’d gotten too much fresh air. Beside her, a car laid on the horn, bringing Christa back to her surroundings. She was standing right in one of the lanes of the parking lot.
She’d also given up another thing when she’d been diagnosed with MS three years ago: her inner filter.
Christa walked around the hood of the car to the driver’s side. She motioned for him to roll down the window. It was a man in his forties with a frown on his face, and he did roll down his window—they usually did. She leaned down on his door.
“Hey, how’s it going? Well, you’re at a hospital, so it’s most likely not the best day of your life…but otherwise, how is life treating you?”
He narrowed his eyes.
“In a hurry?” she asked.
“Yes, and you were just standing there in the middle of the parking lot. I have to be back at work.”
“Uh-huh…and I get that. I get that you weren’t concerned that maybe there was something wrong with me—maybe I was here finding out I had fifteen minutes to live so I thought I’d enjoy one of them in the parking lot—this gorgeous parking lot.”
Now he was scowling.
“And that’s cool. My name is Christa, by the way. I’m a Sagittarius. I like to bowl—though not as much right now—you see, I have MS and sometimes my left side doesn’t work so well and even though I’m right-handed it throws things off, you know? My balance. I used to bowl a great game. How about you? You like to bowl?”
“Yes.” He was grudgingly being polite. She’d pegged him as a bowler. Bowlers called to one another.
“That’s great. What’s your best game?”
“241.”
“241? That’s fantastic…wait…what’s your name?”
“Charles.”
“That’s really incredible, Charles. I was going to brag up my 215, but I’ll just go on my way instead.” She stood up and tapped the side of his car. “You have a great day, Charles. Good luck with your game.” Then she walked around the back of his car, whistling, and continued on the way to hers—with no more holding up strangers who honked angrily when people stopped in front of them. Charles watch
ed her for a moment, staring in confusion—they usually did that, too. Eventually, he drove off—slowly, in less of a hurry.
You’re welcome, world.
Life was too damn short to hurry, but also, not to hurry. It was a strange contradiction. She hurried for the important things. She grabbed them and held on. But it turned out, very little was actually that important.
As she slid her keys in the car door, her skin prickled and was extra sensitive. She glanced back toward Charles. Eventually, her war against road rage was going to bite her. But his car was gone. In fact, the small hospital’s parking lot was mostly empty. She looked toward the trees edging the property; someone…someone was staring at her from the forest. Her heart beat faster, but not from fear. There was an adrenaline rush, a surge of energy, of awareness.
Then, she saw it…dark eyes watching her. Big eyes, tilted and surrounded by fur—black fur. “The better to see you with,” she whispered under her breath. Maybe she was seeing things. Maybe it was the mere suggestion from Dane about a black wolf, but she didn’t think so. It was watching her—just watching her. “You better watch out—Dane’s not a bad shot.” Then she smiled and admitted, “Of course, he’s the one who keeps claiming that so maybe you’ll do just fine.” Then she opened her door and got in.
This was a freaky place—maybe it simply needed another crazy for the show.
…
He slammed through the small entrance into his den below his house and shifted, anxious to be back to human where he could process what he’d seen. The altered consciousness of a wolf didn’t retain a lot of memories, especially if he spent too much time running.
Christa.
Small and sweet and sexy as hell.
And she talked to strangers—strangers who honked at her. In his wolf form, he’d gotten to his feet, ready to attack if the stranger had done more than just honk. But she hadn’t been scared, even for a second. Their exchange had been a blur mostly—fading in and out—other than her name. Her name had stuck and held in his brain.
Christa.
This Weakness For You (Entangled Select Otherworld) (Taming the Pack) Page 2
