Shifters of Silver Peak: Mate For A Month

by Georgette St. Clair

  “You don’t have to work for him,” he said to her. “I have a job.”

  “I’ve got to be able to support myself, and I’ve got no experience doing anything. At least this is a guaranteed paycheck,” she said. “I mean, this mating is just temporary. Once the Council for Shifter Affairs is off your back, it’ll be over. So if I keep working for my father, I can start putting the money into my own bank account and save up. I never used to save up my money when I was in New York, because I kind of felt like I’d be trapped there forever, but even after our fake mating is done, I’m not going back.”

  “You could find another job,” Marcus suggested to her. “And our pack wouldn’t kick you out.”

  She felt her heart sink a little. He hadn’t argued. He hadn’t said that their mating would last forever. Well, of course he hadn’t.

  One hot kiss wouldn’t change anything. But what a kiss it had been…

  They walked towards his car in silence.

  When they got there, she paused.

  “What’s wrong with my outfit? I can’t tell,” she said miserably, as he loaded her suitcases in the back. “What did I do wrong? Patterns don’t match? Wrong fabrics?”

  “You’re asking me?” He actually laughed. “If I have to go out in public, I put on pants and a shirt. If it’s hot, I might wear shorts. Or go naked. When it comes to fashion, I’m blind.”

  “Well, that’s a blessing,” she said. “Since you’re mated to me. I mean, pretend mated,” she added hastily. He shrugged.

  “Marisol is right,” she said as they headed to the gift shop to buy a baby present for Chelsea. I’ve had servants since I was a toddler. I can’t do anything for myself. And whenever I try, they stop me. But they’re right. I always screw things up. I’d be a useless mate for anybody.”

  “Don’t say that,” he said, frowning. “Don’t talk about yourself like that. What is it you want to know how to do?”

  She thought about that. “Hang up a picture.”

  She waited for him to mock her, but he didn’t.

  “Okay. We’ll go buy a picture.”

  As they walked to the car, her phone blipped with a text message. She checked it.

  Ambrose had typed up a message explaining how her outfit clashed. “I just want you to look your best, sweetie,” he said in the text message.

  Yeah, thanks for that, she thought disconsolately.

  Chapter Ten

  The delicious scent of wood smoke filled Eileen’s nostrils, and she found herself mesmerized by the dancing flames of the bonfire.

  Was Marcus actually going to join her? He’d come back from work and headed straight to his workshop. He’d been there for the last couple of hours, and she’d finally gotten bored and hungry.

  She’d left him a note pinned to the front door of his cabin, saying she was joining the rest of the pack for dinner and he should come meet her when he was done.

  She was getting a little worried now, though. Where was he? He had to start getting back in the habit of spending time with his pack. After all, she wouldn’t be here forever.

  The thought made her unexpectedly gloomy. Here she was, a stranger, and she’d never felt so instantly at home. She was sitting on the steps of the pack’s headquarters with Chelsea and Erika, meeting all the pack members…everybody was so nice here.

  Not one single person had given her outfit the once-over. That was funny, because it was the first thing that her crowd back on the Upper East Side did when they met a new person. They quickly assessed whether any newcomer was worth acknowledging, and ruthlessly shunned anyone who fell short.

  Not here. She was sure that there wasn’t a single person who could tell a designer label from a thrift store castoff, and that was enormously freeing. So what if she couldn’t match her clothing to save her life? She was in a judgement-free zone here.

  And she was finally wearing comfortable flat shoes. She and Marcus had done a little shopping in town earlier that day, and she’d spent the last of her money on the shoes and a cub present for Chelsea. She’d bought an adorable little yellow onesie with a matching stripey yellow cap that made her itch for a cub of her own.

  She heard a cheer coming from the crowd who’d gathered around the horseshoe pit, and turned to look. Marcus wasn’t with them either. Damn it, where was he? Should she go back and get him?

  “Nailed it!” Casper crowed as a horseshoe wrapped itself around a stake jutting out of the ground. Damien clapped him on the back enthusiastically.

  The two of them seemed to have bonded pretty well, perhaps because they were the newest members of the pack. They’d only joined a month ago, Chelsea had told Erika. Damien came from up north somewhere, and Casper’s accent identified him as a former Texan. Also, Casper apparently rubbed everyone the wrong way, and Damien had taken it upon himself to act as a buffer, to keep him calm.

  Most of the pack gathered at the common area in the evenings, with a blazing bonfire roaring and hot dogs and burgers sizzling on a grill. Some of the pack members were in wolf form, loping around, leaping over chairs and tables, chasing each other or play-wrestling.

  The common area was located towards the front of the pack property, closest to the road that led to the pack’s lands. There was a cluster of log cabin style buildings that included the pack’s headquarters and a combination dining hall and recreation center, and next to those buildings were tables, chairs, grills and the bonfire.

  “Where is that mate of yours?” Erika asked as she sneaked a piece of hot dog to Pepper, who woke up, ate it and fell back asleep.

  “In his workshop. Maybe I should go get him. Another few minutes and I will.” Eileen sighed, and she got up and went to the ice chest. A shifter she’d been introduced to, a younger guy with pale yellow wolf’s eyes and sideswept blond hair , handed her a beer.

  “Samuel, right?” she said.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said. “So I hear you’re staying with Marcus.” He hesitated, and glanced around to see if anyone was listening to them, then lowered his voice to ask, “Do you happen to know…is he mad at me?”

  “Not that I know of,” she said, puzzled. “Why would he be mad?”

  “It’s just…I see him watching me sometimes, and frowning.”

  “That’s pretty much how he always looks. He doesn’t love to socialize,” she said.

  He nodded. “I know. Funny thing. He’s the one who got me into the pack. He never talks to me, though – kind of acts like he’s avoiding me.”

  “How did he get you into the pack?” Eileen asked.

  “Well, everyone else who joins, they seek the pack out. They come and ask Roman if they can be a member. And then he decides if they can. Me…I had never even heard of this pack. We live in Idaho. About six months ago, I was fighting with my mom and my new stepdad, got kicked out of college, got in some trouble with the law…”

  “You?” Eileen said in surprise.

  “It was dumb. I really loved being in college. I was studying robotics, my favorite thing.” He looked mournful. “But I got drunk a few times and got in fights. When I got kicked out, I spray-painted some stuff on the wall of my dorm. Totally stupid, I know.”

  “And then I get this call from Roman asking if I wanted to join their pack. I came out here, loved it, they let me join. One day I overheard him talking to Chelsea… He said that he didn’t know why Marcus had invited me to join the pack, but I was doing really well on the job site. But I had never even met Marcus before I got here.”

  “Interesting. I know nothing about that. Oh, speak of the devil, here’s my beloved husband now.”

  Marcus walked up to Eileen and Samuel and glanced at the crowd. He was holding a paper sack in his hand and looked uncomfortable.

  “Samuel,” Marcus grunted with a nod of greeting.

  “Marcus. Good to see you.” Samuel grabbed himself a beer and headed off into the crowd.

  Marcus didn’t bother with any social niceties, or even a hello. He glanced over at Casper and
Damien with a scowl. “Horseshoes. Stupid game. We should go.”

  “You’ve literally been here for two seconds. Why, exactly, do you hate socializing so much?” Eileen asked.

  “Well, mostly it’s the part where there are other people around. And they try to talk to you,” Marcus grumbled.

  She noticed that most of the other shifters were giving him a wide berth.

  “Eww, gross,” she observed drily. “Conversation.”

  “Exactly.” He nodded. “Quieter back at my cabin. Are you ready?”

  She rolled her eyes at him. “Roman said that you need to hang out with the pack more. The goal here is to try to socialize you. I’m doing my part; I haven’t killed you in your sleep. Yet.”

  “Fine. I’ll stick it out for a little more, but don’t expect me to like it,” he grumbled. He shrugged and headed over to the grill. She followed him over and accepted one hamburger, while Marcus took five and began methodically devouring them.

  “I like hamburgers,” he said. “You going to finish yours?”

  “Nah. Go for it.” She handed him the half that was left. “You like hamburgers better than people?”

  “Of course. Who doesn’t?”

  Then she felt him stiffen as Casper and Damien approached to grab some hot dogs.

  Casper glanced over at Marcus and muttered, “Sorry about that whole toolbox thing.”

  “Yep. Better not happen again.” Marcus turned and walked away.

  Casper let out a low growl and started after him. Eileen tensed, but Damien put his hand on Casper’s shoulder. “Let it go,” he said.

  Casper was a big man. Big and scarred. That meant he’d gotten in fights with other shifters, Eileen mused.

  Shifters had enhanced powers of healing. There were only two ways that shifters scarred; when a male Mate-Marked his female, or during a fight. That was because the only thing that scarred a shifter was the special secretion in a gland located by a shifter’s fangs, and shifters only released that secretion in the heat of passion. Either rage or sex.

  Damien didn’t have visible scars. He was a tall, handsome man who looked to be in his late twenties or early thirties. He had bright amber eyes and high, sharp cheekbones, hidden somewhat behind his full beard and mustache. Something about him looked vaguely familiar, but Eileen couldn’t quite place it. Did she know him from somewhere? That would be quite the coincidence.

  Damien and Casper were both watching Marcus now, with frowns on their faces.

  “Sorry about that,” she said placatingly to Damien. “My darling husband was raised by wolves.” She almost giggled at the sound of it. My husband.

  Damien laughed at that. “Weren’t we all? Well, not you, so much.” He looked at her with curiosity. “How are you two getting along?’

  She gave a graceful shrug. “Well, you know, opposites attract.”

  “I’ll say.” Damien glanced after Marcus. “He’s just…not the most social of shifters that I’ve encountered. He’s a very hard worker, I’ll give him that. He just doesn’t like to talk much.”

  She shrugged again. “Well, that’s also kind of a pack thing, isn’t it? No talking about your pasts and so on.”

  He nodded. “True enough.” A dark look crossed his face. “Why I joined, in fact.”

  She felt a twinge of sympathy. She knew that the pack attracted members who didn’t fit in anywhere else. There was so much pain here. So much loss. Whatever privileged life he’d led, it was over now. He was living with this pack, probably under a fake name, hiding from his past.

  Damien, like all the other pack members except for Samuel, carried that hint of danger with him. Despite that, there was also a cultured undertone to his voice that spoke of the same kind of background that Eileen had – a background of prep schools and Ivy League college. Casper was nothing like that – his accent and his mannerisms revealed him to be pure redneck country shifter. Odd that the two were such good friends.

  She realized that Marcus was watching her now, with a frown on his face. Why? The notion that he might be jealous briefly flickered through her mind, then she quickly dismissed it. For him to be jealous, he’d have to care about her first.

  Whatever his problem, he looked miserable. She’d started to walk towards him when she heard the loud sounds of an argument breaking out between two shifters who were standing over by the ice chest.

  “You forgot my birthday? My actual birthday?” she heard a female shifter named Lily wail.

  “I thought it was next week! I’ll get you a present tomorrow, I swear,” Samuel protested, looking dismayed. Eileen glanced over at them. Samuel was right – he was different from the other pack members. They were decent enough, but they were a rougher crew, more hardened, even battle-scarred; he seemed too gentle and quiet to be one of them.

  “It’s not even the present!” Lily was in tears, and Samuel almost looked as if he were about to cry too. “It’s that you didn’t care enough to remember!”

  Marcus walked over, opened up the paper bag and pulled out a hand-carved wooden flower.

  “My fault,” he said to her. “Samuel asked me to make this for you. It was supposed to be a surprise. Took me a little longer than I planned.”

  Eileen walked up just as he handed it to Lily, who squealed with delight and threw her arms around Samuel. “Oh, honey! That is so sweet!” she cried out. “It’s a flower, just like my name! And Marcus, this is gorgeous! I had no idea you were so talented!”

  Samuel looked over the top of her head and mouthed “Thank you” at Marcus.

  Marcus shrugged, crumpled up the paper bag and tossed it into the bonfire.

  Eileen looked at his face. He was pale, and beads of sweat were forming on his forehead.

  “I’m getting a little bit of a headache,” she said to him quickly. “Can we head back now?”

  He nodded, and she made her excuses to Chelsea and Erika and Roman, and they headed back to the cabin.

  “Why did you really have that flower?” Eileen asked.

  He cleared his throat, looking embarrassed.

  “I made that for you. For an apology. I keep making you mad for some reason,” he said. “You said you liked my carving. I was just waiting for the right time to give it to you. When we were alone.”

  “Oh. My goodness.” She blinked hard as a sudden rush of emotion welled up in her. She imagined Marcus, standing there in his shop and carefully carving that beautiful flower, for her.

  For some reason, the memory of her last birthday a couple of months earlier flashed through her mind. That had been right after her father had decided she should marry Beacham. Beacham had sent her several packages from Saks Fifth Avenue, and they’d all included cards that were signed by his secretary and said “Beacham Haversham wishes you a happy 21st birthday”. But she was twenty-two. He’d sent her a pair of pearl earrings – she didn’t have pierced ears. And there had been some truly loathsome perfume that smelled like someone had vomited up an entire flower garden. To top it off, there had been a horrid mink stole that had made her want to cry at the thought of the minks who’d died to make it.

  But Marcus had remembered what she liked, and taken time to make something with his hands, just for her.

  “You didn’t make me mad,” she said. “You just kind of hurt my feelings.”

  “Oh.” He looked taken aback. “That’s worse. I’d rather you got mad at me.”

  After a minute he asked, “How did I hurt your feelings?”

  “You just always act like you can’t stand me.”

  He looked at her in astonishment. “That’s not true at all. I dislike you least of anyone.”

  Eileen burst into laughter. When she’d first met him, maybe that would have hurt her feelings, but now that she was getting to know him better, she realized he didn’t mean it the way it sounded. For Marcus, that was practically a love sonnet.

  “You could make me another flower,” she suggested. “I really did love it. How about a rose? I love roses. And b
y the way, that was a very nice thing that you did for that couple.”

  “I wasn’t being nice. I just wanted them to shut up.”

  Eileen shook her head. “No, you’re secretly a nice guy.”

  Marcus looked horrified. “You shut your filthy mouth, woman.”

  “Chelsea told me that one time when you were in town, a car fell on someone at the garage, and you ran in there and picked it up off them.”

  He stared at her in confusion. “What else would I do? And they were screaming. I was trying to enjoy my hamburger at the cafe. Had to get the car off them before I could do that.”

  “Marcus is a sweetheart,” she sang out loud.

  “Oh, good God.” He looked annoyed, which made her want to sing even louder. Big, grouchy wolf. “What do I have to do to get you to never, never say that to anyone?”

  She hesitated. She thought back on that kiss, and how much she wanted him to do that again…and more. She wanted to tell him exactly what he had to do. How to ravish her. Where to kiss her. Where she wanted his tongue…

  Heat flooded her cheeks at the thought.

  “I’ll think of something,” she said, trying to keep her tone casual.

  He shook his head in bemusement. “I’m sure you will.”

  Then he stopped walking.

  He was breathing heavily, she realized, and sweat was beading on his forehead. He glanced into the woods, shook his head hard and rubbed his eyes with his hand. He looked again. He was staring at nothing.

  “Are you all right?” she asked, worried.

  “Matthew?” he called out, his voice hollow.

  She stared at him. “Who? Marcus, there’s no one there.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Early Friday morning

  Silvery clouds veiled the moon. Crickets chirped in a ragged chorus, and the frost-glazed grass was cold and crunchy underneath her slippered feet. Eileen, standing there in her pink plaid flannel pajamas, rapped on the workshop door with annoyance.

  She heard Marcus stirring inside, and then he walked over and threw the door open.