Iron Flats Rebel: Shifter Realms

by Elle Thorne

  She should talk. Could she talk? What would she say?

  “Are you okay?” His voice had the perfect bass, the timbre quite right, the wolf in him at the surface, making it sound a little gravely—a seductive song of nature.

  She nodded, not trusting her voice.

  He held a hand out, and she took it. How could she not? He was that irresistible to her.

  The mission, she reminded herself.

  Right, that’s right.

  But could she? Could she concentrate on the mission or on the large hand which took hers, warm, safe, secure?

  Darby who?

  What mission?

  She. Was. So. Fracked.

  Chapter Three

  Jared couldn’t tell which one of them was more infatuated. Him or his wolf. For damned sure, what both of them were feeling was strong. Thrall—he recalled his grandfather had spoken the word when he’d talked of the love he had for his mate. Thrall, the uncontrollable. When thrall has power over you, there is no controlling yourself. His grandfather’s words. Such was the power of the attraction he felt for this woman.

  Her hand, soft and small, was enveloped in his. He’d managed to talk his wolf down off the edge, where the wolf had been poised, ready to leap into his skin and kill the interloper who’d dared put hands on her.

  He’d met plenty of female wolf shifters in his life, many of them enticing as could be, but they paled when compared to the woman who’d placed her hand in his.

  Jared led her away from the dark alcove, toward a corner booth he’d claimed as his own long ago. He’d spent enough time on the smooth leather and leaning against the oak table that it carried his scent, and no other shifter took the spot. They dared not. Other shifter clans rarely messed with the Crooked Arrow pack. Unless, of course, they didn’t know better. Or if they thought they could best them.

  He felt as though he was outside of himself as he guided this woman toward his spot. He’d never brought a female to his table. Typically, he would wait here and appraise, searching for the flavor of the night, then he’d pounce and have a few hours of fun at her place, then never go down the same road with the same girl.

  So why wasn’t he doing that? Why was he taking her to the spot he preferred to sit at by himself and think? There was something very unusual about the way he was behaving, he was quick to admit to himself. Must be his wolf. Or maybe it was the wolf within her spurring him and his wolf to behave so out of character.

  Thrall. The word hit him once more, out of the blue.

  He helped her to a seat at the high-top table, then motioned to the waitress. “Drink?” He said to the gorgeous blonde next to him.

  She nodded.

  He held up two fingers. The usual. Then he proceeded to study her. Those eyes, blue, wide-set. Her lips, thin. That nose, pert. Those tits, damn. “Your name?”

  “Darby,” she said, her voice practically a tiny pant.

  Darby, he let the name roll off his tongue in his mind. Darby. “Darby what? Where you from?” What’s your favorite position? What’s your wolf’s favorite position? Definitely not questions he could ask her. Yet. Give him an hour, he’d have her back at her place, screaming his name.

  “Darby M-Masters.” Her eyes held the nuance of a wolf caught in a trap for a brief second.

  “Darby M-Masters,” he repeated, softening the mocking of his tone. “Where are you from Darby M-Masters?”

  “Sumpter area. Well, you know, Eureka.” Her voice had become bolder suddenly.

  He knew Eureka. He knew the Silver Peaks pack was there. “As in Oregon? You’re a good way from home. What brings you to Reno?”

  She was quiet for a minute, her gaze taking him in, making him wonder what she was thinking. As to what he was thinking? What was a fine-looking, wolf shifter female doing in Reno, particularly when she was in season. She was bound to bring every shifter within a five-mile radius sniffing around her, hoping to mate. Now, why did it irritate the hell out of him? He’d never been the possessive type. Never found anyone he wanted to feel possessive about.

  His wolf was practically purring. What the hell? Wolves didn’t purr. It was the closest he could come to describing the way his wolf was making his chest vibrate. As a damned cat, purring.

  He noticed two things at that moment.

  First, she hadn’t answered his question. Second, she hadn’t asked his name. Her eyes said she was interested in him, so why hadn’t she asked? Would a female wolf shifter in season not care? Would she be indiscriminate about who she mated with? Any male would do to procure the seed which would satisfy her?

  The thought drew a frown on his face that he was well aware had formed, but he couldn’t shake his anger enough to lose the expression. He didn’t relish the notion of this woman with her body splayed for another male.

  The waitress dropped the shots off, and he didn’t bother toasting or pushing Darby’s toward her. He raised the shot glass and swallowed the smooth whiskey, then waved toward the server to bring two more, the glass still in hand.

  He slammed it down, then pushed Darby’s toward her with his fingernails against the table’s smooth surface. “Bottoms up.”

  Well, damn if her expression didn’t leave him with a visual of her, bottom-up, presenting, glistening, waiting.

  Fuck.

  He had it bad, and this was not a good thing at all. He should get up, grab the nearest female on the way to the door, and go somewhere else to get this out of his system. Except he knew it wouldn’t get her out of his mind.

  She tipped the glass back delicately, her neck long and smooth, begging for his tongue, his lips, his hands. Her hair fell back, a messy cascade of platinum curls. Her breasts thrust forward in that red dress which did everything right in showcasing her charms. She swallowed the liquid, setting the glass down next to his in a controlled, deliberate motion.

  He’d love to see her control gone. To see wildness in her. To see the wolf in her eyes.

  The next round was already there, and he waved for more. This time he held up four fingers.

  Her eyes widened.

  “Too much, Darby M-Masters?”

  “What’s your name,” she finally asked.

  “I wondered if you were gonna ask or simply let me into your panties without knowing.”

  Her pupils dilated. The scent of her desire grew stronger. Odd, how it didn’t exactly match the crazy-strong underlying scent of her heat. Her nostrils flared; her chest heaved with several short breaths.

  So, she was absolutely feeling it, too. With him. For him. He let a slow smile come to his lips.

  She slammed the second shot before he picked his up. “So, you figure you’re going to get into my panties?”

  Her voice had gone sultry, stirring the beast within him, giving more rise to the strain in his jeans. A strain which had not waned.

  “Jared,” he said.

  Chapter Four

  Good gawd. In all her years, Darby had never felt what she was feeling with this man. A warmth coursed through her body, a pool formed between her legs, absolutely soaking her panties. Could he pick up the scent of her need? Shifters had these super-strong noses. She and Ellie used to laugh about how the boys all behaved when they picked up certain smells.

  “Jared,” she repeated, relishing the sound of his name on her lips. The name on its own was sexy. The man, though, was over-the-top, sex on a stick, unlike any man she’d ever known.

  “Jared what?” As though she didn’t know. She kept her face a study of innocence.

  “Dorsett.” His chest puffed out a bit when he said it. He sat straighter, his pecs flexed.

  She knew about the Dorsetts. Who didn’t, in the shifter world? They were a name before they were the alpha family of the Crooked Arrow Ranch. Their reputation had followed them from when they were on the East Coast. She’d done her research. Jared Dorsett’s grandfather brought his pack down to Reno. He’d been alpha at a territory larger than today’s Crooked Arrow, but it had been split after
his death. There were a few details which hadn’t been filled in, a time when the Everhart family ruled Crooked Arrow, but then Jared’s brother Keith became alpha again, not so long ago.

  Her father was itching to get leverage on the Crooked Arrow pack. He’d love to take over their vast territory. How he’d do that exactly, she had no idea, but if he had dirt on them, he’d find a way.

  And that was what she was here for, she reminded herself. She wasn’t here to make nice with sexy-hunky Jared Dorsett.

  No matter what her hormones told her.

  The waitress dropped off another round and she made short work of them. This spying thing wasn’t sitting on her conscience too well. If she was going to get some dirt on him, she’d rather be drunk when she did it.

  Shifters didn’t stay as drunk as humans. Not with their metabolisms. So an hour later, when he was driving them away from Ace of Clubs, Darby wasn’t worried about his reaction time being impaired when it came to their safety. She also wasn’t worried about her personal safety. Something in the man’s eyes, other than the sheer sexiness of him, told her she could trust him.

  I’m the one who can’t be trusted. I’m trying to take his pack down.

  She crumbled a little on the inside at her plan to deliver information to her father which would enable him to topple the Crooked Arrow bunch. Would he kill them? Or would he take political action against them when it came to the annual meeting of clan leaders at ShifterFest?

  “How is it I’ve never seen you at ShifterFest?” He glanced sidelong at her from across his F250.

  Was the man a mind reader?

  Because only true shifters attend. At least from Peter Moore’s Silver Peaks pack. Couldn’t tell him that. Couldn’t let him know her mother was a human. For starters, her father would kill her for giving up the information. It would ruin his political aspirations in shifter politics.

  “It’s not as though the place isn’t packed.” She knew this was true because with a pair of binoculars, she would watch them at ShifterFest from the mountains above, her heart breaking because she couldn’t be with Ellie and her other half-sisters and half-brothers, as well as cousins.

  “True.” He twisted in his seat. “How about your place? Mine’s a bit of a haul.”

  Right. Crooked Arrow. The very place I want to go. “I’m in a hotel.” A seedy, cheap hotel where she’d had to switch rooms on the first night she was there because of bed bugs. But, hey, a girl had to do what she had to do, all for her father’s approval.

  “Which hotel?”

  “Well, I checked out. I was thinking of moving on.”

  He frowned slightly. “Wait. You’re leaving town, but you were at Ace? Were you going to move on after that? Where to?”

  Shoot. Coming up with lies on the fly was not her strength. Not by a long shot. “How about your place?” She had to get him out of the questioning mode and into the flirting and giving up information mode. Should she apply more of Ellie’s special concoction? Would he wonder what she was up to? Okay, maybe the best thing she could do would be to derail his thoughts completely. She scooted closer to the center console, wishing it was a bench seat so she could find other means to redirect his ideas.

  She released her seatbelt and leaned over the massive console. Jeez, they didn’t make these trucks how they used to, when you could do all sorts of things in the front seat while the guy was driving. Not that she knew from personal experience, but girls did talk.

  She placed her hand on his thigh. “How far is your place?”

  Jared adjusted his weight in the seat, leaned forward, then back, his interest very evident. “You get straight to the point, don’t you?” He trailed his fingertip down her jawline then ran his thumb over her bottom lip.

  He floored the accelerator, jerking her against the seat.

  She breathed a sigh of relief. Questions deflected. Catastrophe averted. For now.

  She took the time to study his profile, to examine the man who would be the ticket to acceptance in her pack, then snuck out the tiny bottle out, unscrewed the cap and placed her finger on the opening, tipped it, and ran her fingertip along her cleavage as casually as she could. Then she sealed it and snuck it in her bag.

  The reaction in the man was instantaneous. His head tipped upward, nostrils flared, and chest filled with the air he’d drawn in. The headiness of having such control over him physically was an aphrodisiac that slammed a shudder of desire through her body. It would be easy to have a night of passion with him. That wouldn’t be difficult at all. What might prove difficult would be saying goodbye. And what would be more difficult would be the act of betraying him.

  That would—

  Her next thought was lost in the sound of metal on metal.

  His truck spun 180 degrees, facing a set of headlights. Her head slammed into the passenger window.

  Darkness took over.

  Chapter Five

  The impact ripped the steering wheel from Jared’s grip. He slammed on the brakes. Darby’s limp figure and the overwhelming smell of blood caught his attention. Her blood. Crimson splattered on the glass.

  The truck spun, fishtailed into the opposite direction. He slapped it into Park and ignored the headlights from the other vehicle lighting up his cab as he tried to check on her. Damn the luck. He should have told her to buckle up when he noticed she’d released her belt, but damn if he hadn’t been thinking with his dick, about her hand, hopefully, being on it.

  It was the furthest thing from his mind now. Her wellbeing was all that mattered at this moment. He tipped her head to the side. Blood covered her temple. She was out. Completely out.

  “Hey, Darby.”

  Nothing.

  He pushed her hair back, rubbed her cheek gently. “Wake up.”

  Still nothing.

  “Damn it.”

  The sound of impact and glass shattering jerked his attention away from Darby.

  Two assholes, definitely shifters from the silver swirls in their eyes, stood beside the truck, one of them wielding a tire iron, which was precisely what they’d used to take out the driver’s window.

  Jared recognized him instantly. The bastard who’d tried to detain Darby at Ace of Clubs.

  A laugh from the other side of the road caught his attention. Two more wolf shifters.

  He snarled. Four of them or not, wolf form or not, his own wolf was ready to rise to the challenge, pushing against his skin, wanting to shift and fight to the death.

  That had always been the problem with his wolf. He’d take on anyone, everyone, no matter how many, to the death. It was the same thing that had gotten him removed from the military unit he’d been in. His fucking wolf did not know when to stop.

  Jared wrestled with the wolf, trying to get control so he would let him handle this in his human skin. He didn’t think his wolf would fare well against four wolves. He might be able to kill them, but would he be in any condition to drive Darby to medical attention? Probably not.

  Fucking quit it, he commanded the wolf, knowing damned well the monster his wolf was would have no quit in him.

  The. Beast. Simply. Had. No. Quit.

  “I’ll take the she-wolf off your hands,” the original piece-of-shit shifter said, licking his lips. His head was tipped back, taking in the scent she was exuding. “She’ll make a fine breeder for our pack.” He turned to the other one. “Told you she had a fine smell to her, didn’t I?”

  The other one, larger, face scarred from several skirmishes, nodded. “Bet her pussy tastes as good as it smells. I’m taking firsts.”

  “The fuck you are,” Original POS Shifter argued. “I’m the one who told you about her. I’m not taking sloppy seconds.”

  Jared used the opportunity to reach beneath his seat, where he kept one of his service pistols. He wrapped his hand around his old friend, a SIG Sauer M17, the grip comfortable in his hand, as though it hadn’t been four years since he’d used it to take out a foe.

  The door on Darby’s side opened.
The wolf shifter stood there, eyes on Darby’s cleavage. The angle she leaned in yielded quite a show of a creamy handful. The bastard practically slobbered as he checked her out.

  Jared was torn. Who should he shoot first? The one reaching for her or the one reaching for him? If they took him out, Darby would be theirs. If he didn’t take out the one reaching for her, then she’d be a pawn or a bargaining chip.

  How the hell did the night go so damned wrong?

  There wasn’t much time for deliberation or careful aim. It was time to act.

  He popped off a cap quickly toward the one reaching for her, center mass, then turned toward Original POS, ready to shoot him in the face.

  Except Original POS wasn’t there. In his place, a tall, broad man with a duster and a cap pulled low and the eeriest eyes Jared had ever seen. That itself said volumes, coming from a shifter. Flat-gray, single-hued with a black iris in the center and none of the usual spokes which coursed through eyes.

  “Gabe.” Where the fuck did he come from? How’d he manage to sneak up on them?

  “Why don’t you take care of the last one over there.” Gabriel Bonegate thrust his chin out, indicating the one standing next to the one Jared had shot.

  The shifter stared at Gabe as though he’d seen a ghost. He was unmoving and in shock.

  Jared took aim and unloaded two rounds into his forehead.

  Gabe had made short work of the two on his side of the truck. “Not friends of yours, I’d guess.” He wore a bemused half-smile. “Time to get these bodies out of here before we have someone searching for them.” He pointed toward Darby. “And you should probably see to her.”

  “I’ll help you with these bodies.”

  “I got it.” Gabe waved him away. “She needs medical help.”