by Aline Hunter
Changed
Aline Hunter
Book two of the Wolf’s Den series.
Beta werewolf Declan Schroder knows Rachel Gentry is his mate. The hard-as-nails female is more than he could ask for—intense, clever and sexy as sin. There’s only one problem. Rachel is human and fears his kind. She’s receptive to his advances—their sexual chemistry is impossible to deny—until an attack by a rogue wolf shifter threatens to destroy their newfound bond.
As Declan’s mating heat rises, he knows he’ll do whatever it takes to claim Rachel as his own. To keep her, he’ll have to love her from dusk ’til dawn, introducing her to pleasures she’s never known.
Loving a big, bad wolf is wicked and dangerous, but not in a way she’s bound to regret.
A Romantica® paranormal erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave
Changed
Aline Hunter
Dedication
To the readers who allow me to do what I love for a living. Your support means the world to me. An enormous thanks as always to my editor, beta readers and critique partners.
Chapter One
“Just Rachel? Where are you? Come out, come out, wherever you are.”
Rachel Gentry jumped in alarm and ripped her gaze from the oil filter she’d been in the process of replacing. Her heart thudded in her chest, beating in a frantic rhythm. She hated it when people bypassed her office and made their way to the back of the garage. Every single time it happened it scared her out of her wits.
She swallowed down her momentary shock and counted to ten.
This time the asshole visitor was someone she knew—his voice easily recognizable. Not to mention he was the only person to call her Just Rachel. She cursed herself for not giving him a last name the first time they’d met, telling him she was, “Just Rachel” when she’d gone to his tattoo shop in search of her friend on day. He’d never forgotten and made sure to address her as such each time they saw each other.
She’d known he’d probably show up when she least expected it. He seemed to enjoy taking her off guard. Mr. Tall, Dark and Arrogant told her he’d keep coming back just yesterday, even though she’d told him to leave and not come back. The aggravating man danced to the beat of his own drum. She’d learned that the first time they met.
Declan Schroder. Damn him.
He did what he wanted, when he wanted. She could argue with him until she was blue in the face but it wouldn’t matter. Once he’d made up his mind about something the decision was set in stone. Point of fact, he’d been coming to her shop every afternoon for the last two weeks. At first he’d introduced himself—something he hadn’t bothered doing the first time they’d met. He’d been cordial—sticky sweet, even—until she’d asked him why he’d paid her a visit.
The atmosphere had changed in that moment, the air almost electric around them. He didn’t answer right away, frowning as he tried to think of what to say. It took him a minute to get going but once he did she got the picture.
Clearly.
Since her best friend Chloe had recently joined his crew, Declan indicated he wanted to make a peace offering. He’d tried to take Rachel to dinner, saying he wanted to get to know her better since she was family now. But she’d known that had been bullshit man-code. What he really wanted was to take her to home, fuck her silly and put another notch on his bedpost. She’d seen him sizing her up, his gaze raking over her from head to toe. She might as well have been naked.
He had no shame whatsoever.
Up until then she hadn’t thought he was that stupid.
There wasn’t an easy way to reject his offer. For one, Chloe had asked Rachel to give her new friends a chance. So being a bitch was off the table. Besides, Rachel wasn’t accustomed to dating. Generally she didn’t fall into the parameters of what society deemed attractive. It wasn’t that she was heinous. With her light skin, red hair and blue eyes she thought she wasn’t totally hideous. Sadly most men found her profession all kinds of wrong for a woman. They wanted flirty and sexy. Not dirty from working on engines all day in work boots, jeans and stained T-shirts. The men who had expressed an interest in the past had either been missing teeth or wanted a one-night deal, so it had been easy to tell them to fuck off.
She’d politely told Declan no, explaining that while she appreciated the offer it wasn’t a good idea to get friendly. Then he’d done something she hadn’t expected. He’d grinned and proceeded to tease her, calling her “fraidy cat”. She hadn’t understood his behavior. He’d seemed frustrated. Certainly she’d snubbed the man but it shouldn’t have bothered him. He was sexy as sin and could have any woman he wanted. Maybe it was the thrill of the hunt that had captivated him? Perhaps he’d found pleasure in stalking her day after day?
He is a werewolf after all.
For an instant her dream from the night before came rushing back, the images vivid and arousing. He’d captured her before she could bolt, holding her tight as he’d eased her to the ground. She braced for what would come next, her entire body tense. She could see the wolf inside him, could almost feel it trembling beneath Declan’s skin. His face had come so close to hers, their noses nearly touching. She’d closed her eyes, shaking as she’d waited to see what he had in store.
Then her phone had started blaring, yanking her out of the dream. Pissed and a little horny, she’d answered the call. She shouldn’t have been surprised that it had been her mother on the other end of the line—drunk and in a sour mood. Without so much as a hello her mother had started bitching about Chloe, informing her she needed to end the friendship, telling Rachel horror stories about werewolves.
She hadn’t been surprised.
Since she could walk her disgrace of a parent had told her stories of little girls who went missing and were found with their head, arms and legs missing. Her mother claimed they’d been hunted down like animals and eaten, torn limb from limb. The macabre tales had terrified her then and terrified her now. She’d listened quietly, letting her mother have her say. What she’d wanted to do was go back to sleep, wishing she could escape the hell that was her life.
If only Dad hadn’t died. Things would have been so different.
“Just Rachel,” Declan drawled. “Here I come.”
You’re not sleeping anymore, dumbass. Her gaze darted to the side. This is real. Pay attention.
Thinking fast, she tried to decide what to do. It didn’t matter where she hid. Declan would find her. It was a part of his nature, his instincts paving the way. He could hear each beat of her heart, was able to identify her emotions by smell. Right now he’d probably locked on to her scent. In a couple of seconds he’d be right beside her, his presence so powerful she’d stare and gawk at him like a preteen who was tempted to take him out for a test drive.
Something shuffled a few feet away. Shit.
Declan moved silently but she could feel him inching closer.
She wasn’t sure if she could turn him away this time. The past few days he’d broken her down, getting beneath her skin. Each of their encounters had become more intense, the battle of wills swinging from her advantage to his. Just yesterday—after she’d politely told him to go play hide and fuck himself—he’d backed her to a wall and caged her in his arms. Heat had radiated from his body, his brown irises shifting to a vibrant gold. He’d worn a black T-shirt, flaunting the impressive tattoos that started at his wrists and wound up his arms. The ink somehow complemented his tan complexion and added to his potent charm.
There’d been nowhere to run or hide.
He’d lowered his head to kiss her, his breath whispering across her lips. She’d thought about running but he seemed to know what she’d been thinking. His hand came down, fingers snaking around the fragile bones of
her hip. He hadn’t been willing to let her go, that much had been evident. Butterflies had erupted in the pit of her stomach. Her pussy had clasped, creating a rush of wetness in her between her legs. Her breasts had swelled, the lace of her bra chafing her puckered nipples.
Declan not only looked like pure sin, he practically oozed sexuality. She could see the devil under the surface, ready to burn her with a touch. She’d known then that the real thing would be so much better than her vibrator and fantasies. He was capable of doing things to her she’d only dreamed about. Her pulse had amplified in her head, her entire body going hot. She’d been willing to tread into dangerous waters for the first time, curious about what he’d do next.
So she’d edged closer, anticipation replacing hesitation.
Then a customer had waltzed in to pick up his piece of shit Buick.
Declan had moved away immediately, granting her freedom before the human with a busted radiator asked any questions. She’d been too relieved to thank Declan properly, taking advantage of his foresight. Her intrusive client had been so interested in his phone he hadn’t bothered looking up as he walked in. Very fortunate since the people in her area weren’t fond of species and races they didn’t understand. Mr. Buick would have passed out or called the police if he’d noticed a werewolf inside the room.
Declan had warned her he’d be back, making sure he had her attention before he exited the building. She’d stood there like a moron, watching him go, frozen in place. Just like that he’d put a chink in her armor. No fuss, zero muss. Soon she’d be eating out of his hand.
Why did he have to keep picking apart her defenses?
Because he knows he can, idiot.
Rachel didn’t like werewolves, with one notable exception, and that was only due to the fact she’d been friends with Chloe Bryant for years. They’d been locked together at the hip since they were children, long before Chloe had found out about her werewolf heritage. After Chloe told Rachel the truth, sharing that soon she’d change into a werewolf, Rachel hadn’t been able to turn her back on the only person she considered family.
Especially with everything Chloe had been through.
The girl had lost her mother at a young age and had never known her father—a man who had passed down his werewolf genetics to his progeny. If it hadn’t been for Jackson Donovan—a local pack Alpha and Chloe’s mate—Chloe would have faced her first shift alone. From what Rachel had gathered the first transformation for a half-breed wasn’t pleasant. Jackson’s Alpha nature had paved the way and made things much easier for Chloe. Rachel had been curious about everything that had happened—wondering how a person went from one form to another—but hadn’t asked Chloe what it had been like. She’d merely inquired about her friend’s well-being, got an answer and dropped the subject. It wasn’t her place to judge. Jackson doted on Chloe and Rachel believed her friend truly was happy. That was the most important thing.
Soft footsteps drew her attention. Rotating her head, she spied a pair of worn boots heading in her direction. Her stomach knotted, dread lining her gut. Declan was quiet as a cat. If she didn’t pay attention he’d sneak right up on her.
Ignore him. Maybe he’ll go away.
Large booted feet stopped beside the car. “Found you.”
“I wasn’t hiding,” she snapped and focused on her work.
The filter had been turned too tight the last time the oil had been changed. She couldn’t get it free. Tilting to the side, she put all her strength into her arms. That would be the ultimate shame—her lack of ability in the garage with Declan around to observe the failing. To her embarrassment, the damn thing refused to budge.
Please, not now. Come loose, you piece of crap!
He kneeled and leaned over, his head appearing beside the elevated tire. “Need any help?”
“No.” She exhaled, gripping the filter.
She gave it another go, straining with all her might. Her shoulders protested, her wrists aching. This was why she hated her garage. Limited funds meant limited supplies. She didn’t have racks to lift automobiles, meaning she had to get on the ground and do things the old-fashioned way. That meant anyone could venture into the shop and bother her at will.
He managed to flip around and wedge his body beside hers. “Let me do it.”
“Go away!” She planted her elbow in his ribs, keeping her hands on the filter. His subsequent grunt was music to her ears. “Can’t you see I’m busy?”
“Stubborn female,” he retorted, reaching over her head.
They fought for control of the cylinder, fingers rubbing together. Depending on what she’d been doing in the garage her hands could look like they’d been soaked in battery acid or stained with tar. Today her cuticles were crusted with oil and dirt, the tips black with grime. It would take a solid ten minutes of scrubbing to get them clean. His nails, by comparison, were immaculate except for the areas she’d touched. Perfectly neat and tidy.
Wasn’t the woman was supposed to be the pretty one?
“Just Rachel.” He slid his other hand up, cuffing her wrist tightly with his fingers. “I’m trying to be polite, but you’re starting to piss me off. Let go and move your hands. I’m not asking again.”
“Don’t call me that.”
He turned his head, looking at her. “Why?”
Keeping her eyes forward, staring at their interwoven hands, she tried to decide how to respond. Anyone with a reliable set of ears could hear the way he rolled the words off his tongue. He might as well have been calling her Honey pie, Sugar Cakes or Baby Doll.
“You say it like an endearment.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“You get me about as hot as the Artic. That’s what’s wrong with it.” The enormous lie breezed from her mouth. The man was like a rash that constantly aggravated her. “I’m not your Boo-Boo and you sure as shit aren’t my Teddy Bear.”
“Hmm,” he hummed, drawing out the sound. “We’ll see.”
He tugged on her wrist and her fingers slid from the filter. In a blink he worked his fingers under hers and grasped the blasted thing. It loosened with the first turn of his wrist, coming free without a problem. She had to look at him as he handed it over, a smile tugging at the corners of his full lips. His irises were gold, the pupils dilated. She could smell the faint and appealing aroma of the aftershave he’d splashed over his bristle-free face.
“You’re welcome,” he whispered, studying her.
She couldn’t think when he stared at her like that—her mind stripped of rational thought. He’d just said something but the words didn’t compute. Why was it suddenly so hard to breathe? When did the room get so warm? What did he want? Did it really matter? There was only Declan with his squared jaw, smooth nose and piercing eyes. With a swift perusal she decided she liked him with a little stubble on his face.
“I like it when you look at me that way,” he said, breaking her out of her stupor. Still she maintained eye contact, lost in the intensity of his gaze. “I like it when you’re not afraid.”
There it was. A reminder of why she had to keep him at a distance.
They were nothing alike. They weren’t even the same species. He slept all day and stayed up all night. She went to bed early and got up at the break of dawn. His idea of a good time was running around on four legs in the woods with his pack. Her perfect evening consisted of a bubble bath and cup of hot chocolate.
“Afraid?” The utterance came out as a squeak and she wanted to slap herself. She cleared her throat, determined to sound confident. “I’m not afraid of you. I just don’t like you.”
“You’re a horrible liar,” he murmured, his winsome smile intact.
No argument there. She couldn’t lie to save her life. But she’d never admit it. Not to him.
“Whatever.” Severing eye contact, she glared at the filter and informed him, “I worked it loose. That’s the only reason you got it off. Feel free to leave now.”
Worming closer, his shoulder bumped
hers. “Where’s my thank-you?”
Her eyes shot up, growing wide to see his face was only a couple of inches away. The speed at which he moved did frighten her. She’d been told werewolves were fast but did they move at the speed of light? Declan could be there one minute and gone the next. In all her life Rachel had never seen anything like it. Now he was right there, resting directly beside her. His body temperature ran hotter, a wave of warmth sailing toward her. Autumn was almost gone, winter taking its place.
She wondered if an oral acknowledgment would suffice. “Thank you?”
“That’s not what I had in mind.” Another shift of his shoulders brought him closer.
“You shouldn’t do things for people because you expect something in return.” The inner shrew was back, riding her hard. The nagging inner voice told her not to trust Declan, aware he wasn’t being totally honest with her. Mesmerized, she watched his irises change, the color darkening a shade along the edges. “I don’t recall asking for your help.”
“When it comes to you there’s no need to ask.” The statement sounded point of fact, without any room for argument. “If I see you need something, I do it. End of story.”
Something dawned on her, the mere idea like a bitch-slap to her confidence. “Did Chloe send you to watch me? Or did Jackson put you up to this? He did, didn’t he? If so, don’t bother. Believe me when I say I can take care of myself.”
“You’re afraid of me but you do like me, Just Rachel,” he kept on, ignoring her outburst. “Good thing because I like you too. I like you so much it hurts. But I’ll be easy with you until you’re ready for more. You’ll find nothing but pleasure with me. You’ll see.”
I’ll see? He’s that confident? What an ass.
Indignation fled, chased away when his fingers feathered across her jaw. For a werewolf, the man had a soft touch. He never looked away, drinking her in, his thumb moving around to caress her cheek. His attention drifted to her mouth. He licked his lower lip, as though he was imagining how she’d taste. No man had ever stared at her so intently, seeing nothing else in the room.
