by P. Jameson
But mating wasn’t a one way street. And he was pretty sure it never came without complications.
Surge nodded, more serious than usual. “I know my cock hates me on a daily basis. I don’t know if it will ever forgive me for the deprivation.”
“Ditto,” Beast murmured. “Fucking Ditto.”
Drake had to laugh. Shit. Despite their training with the pack, would any of them even know what to do with a woman? This was going to be interesting.
He knew one thing, they’d treat Ella like a queen. These wolves had soft hearts even if he could only admit it in the secret places of his mind.
“Okay,” Drake said, shaking his head. “So I guess it’s time we take a step out of our comfort zone. But… cautiously. We need to stay level. We can’t afford to lose our way again. Hear me?”
The three wolves nodded in agreement.
The silence of the house was comforting. Something felt right about this decision. It felt natural. And his wolf was at peace knowing he wouldn’t have to choose between his mate and his pack.
Surge slapped his hand on the counter. “Alright, now that that’s all settled. Who wants me to tell them why our tiger smells like a wolf? Hmm?”
Chapter Four
“It’s clean,” Punk muttered, as Ella dragged the cloth across the counter one more time. “What the hell is wrong with you, Doc?”
“I told you, I’m not a doctor.”
Punk shrugged, undeterred. “I know, but it makes for a good nickname. And everyone around here has a nickname.”
“So I noticed.”
Ella wasn’t herself today, it was true. Things had been weird at breakfast. Not that she had much of a baseline to go off of, but the guys had seemed on edge around her. Even Surge.
And it wasn’t just that. Ever since her time with Drake in the loft, she’d been feeling all off kilter. Inside, something roiled. Unsettled. An itch that could never be scratched hard enough.
Throughout her life, she’d felt the same feeling. But she’d found satisfaction through her job, her relationship with her daddy, and driving. Her happiness had dulled the gnawing inside. When daddy passed, it got worse. Focusing on winning dulled it again, until last night.
Drake’s highhandedness. The possessive way he’d questioned her. The way he’d… smelled her? It set her on edge. In more than one way. For the first time in a very long time, she’d been turned on. It was amazing and disturbing all at once.
Punk finished stacking some glasses. “Didn’t things go well with the dogs yesterday? You didn’t come home so I assumed…”
“Yeah. Fine.”
Punk raised a pierced eyebrow. “Annie!” she yelled, not taking her eyes off Ella.
“No, really. Everything is fine.”
“Yeah?” Annie pushed through the swinging door, wiping her hands on a towel.
Punk looked at the other woman. “Doc says things went ‘fine’ with the dogs.”
Annie’s bright face fell. “Oh no! What happened?”
Ella shook her head. The woman was as close to actual sunshine and roses as a human could be. She was the yin to Punk’s yang. She’d been Ella’s number one cheerleader.
Man, these two girls had really been there for her. They hadn’t hesitated to help a stranger, to offer their shoulders for her to cry on.
Ella stared at her hands. “It’s fine. Really. I’m in the club. That’s all that matters.”
“But what about your guy, Drake?” Annie asked, concerned.
Ella shook her head. “He isn’t mine.” That statement felt fundamentally wrong, but it was true. “We don’t even know each other.”
“Sure you do,” she soothed. “Tell her, Punk.”
“She’s right though, Annie. She knows what her daddy told her and what she’s observed on her own since moving here. And that beautiful bastard doesn’t know her at all. His head’s been either stuck up his ass or up an engine block. He wouldn’t notice a gator attached to his leg. Unless maybe it was real high up, near his ass. Where his head has been. Then, maybe.”
Annie crossed her arms, glaring at Punk, before addressing Ella. “Tell me what happened.”
“Yes, by all means, tell Mother Annie. She can fix you right up with any relationship advice you need. She’s a pro. Been with how many men now, Annie?”
Annie rolled her eyes. “I never claimed to be a pro.”
Punk stepped behind Annie, looking over her head at Ella and mouthing “zero”.
“Besides, it was your advice that she join the DTD.”
“Yeah, and I stand by my advice,” Punk said, checking the ice maker.
“Look,” Ella interrupted. “It’s really no big deal. The most important thing is I have a real chance of winning at the end of the season.”
Annie shook her head. “Uh uh. Spill it.”
Damn. She wasn’t getting out of this.
“He thought I smelled like a dog,” she blurted.
Both girls frowned so hard she thought their faces would freeze that way.
“What?” Annie’s voice was high and sharp.
“A dog?” Punk asked.
“Yes, and I blame you and Shark. I told you that dog needed a bath.”
“And I gave him one.”
“It doesn’t matter, really.”
“But wait,” Annie said. “He… what, he sniffed you?”
Ella nodded.
Annie turned to Punk. “I got nothing for that. You?”
Punk shook her head, looking disturbed.
“But…”
“But what,” they asked in unison.
Ugh, this part was weird. Maybe she shouldn’t tell them.
Punk threw her towel on the bar. “Bitch, seriously. You know I’m living vicariously through you. If something happened you better tell us now.”
“Yeah.” Annie crossed her arms, trying to look intimidating. “Bitch.”
It was impossible. She looked like a human china doll. There was nothing intimidating about her. It did make Ella laugh though.
“Okay, okay. Nothing happened. It’s just…” She cringed, thinking about what it could’ve meant. “After he said I smelled like a dog, he also said… it was… divine.”
Neither of them made a move. Not even a blink.
“H-he got real close, and I thought maybe he was going in for a kiss. Which would’ve been weird since we’d just met but… then he put his face to my neck and said… said… yeah…” She let her voice trail off because repeating the words was humiliating.
“Then what?” Annie asked, her brow scrunched in confusion.
“Then nothing. He just left.”
“Huh.” Punk picked up the towel and used it to clean the counter. The one that was already clean.
“Yeah,” Ella mumbled. “Weird, right?”
Annie nodded, tapping her finger against her lips.
“Babe,” Punk sighed, “I think you’ve got you a freaky one. The man likes dogs. As in… likes dogs, if you know what I mean. That’s my only conclusion.”
“What? That’s silly.” Ella glanced at Annie for help.
“Of course he doesn’t like dogs, El. And for what it’s worth, I’ve never noticed you smelling like a canine. Most likely he was just messing with you. He’s a joker, that’s all.”
Drake didn’t seem like much of a joker, but Ella was clinging to it. Because Punk’s explanation was just too much.
“Whatever,” Punk muttered, going to unlock the doors.
Within an hour, the place would be full. Red Cap was the best watering hole in Clark County. It which was the only way Ella had managed to make enough stayed busy all week, money working one job. She was thankful for the bar. It had given her friends and kept her afloat through one of her toughest times.
About an hour into her shift, Ella felt a strange zing in her chest. She rubbed at the spot, hoping it would fade.
Punk caught her eye from across the bar and let out an obnoxious bark. Then she nodded toward the door.
Drake stood in the opening, scanning the room. When his eyes settled on Ella, he pursed his lips in the sexiest way. Like he was deciding which part of an ice cream cone to lick first.
She swallowed, cursing her hormones as he approached.
“Hey,” he husked, settling onto a stool.
“What can I get for you, Drake?”
He cocked his head causing the sunglasses perched on the top to slide to the side a bit.
“So professional,” he whispered. “As if I wasn’t right up against that beautiful neck of yours last night.”
She whimpered inside. He was so blunt. He couldn’t be a gentleman and pretend that whole embarrassing moment didn’t happen, could he?
Ella bent across the counter so she could lower her voice. “Yes, sniffing me, as I recall.”
His lips turned up in a grin. “You have a fantastic memory, mate.”
Okay, mate? When did he go all Australian?
Ella shook her head. “What are you drinking?”
“Uh…” He glanced at the back wall. “Just a Coke.”
She filled an iced glass and set the drink in front of him, then went to check on another customer. As she refilled shots and refreshed the pretzels, she felt Drake’s eyes on her.
“How come I’ve never seen you in here?” she asked him.
“I don’t do alcohol.”
“Oh? Is that a club thing?”
He shook his head. “Sorta.”
“So, none of you drink?”
“Nope.”
“Why is that?”
“We all have our own reasons, but mine specifically…” He let out a sigh. “I let the bottle have control of my life at one time. Getting that control back was important so I cut out the drinking completely.”
“You’re an alcoholic?”
Drake shook his head. “No. I don’t need it, like some people think they do. It’s more like, I chose to give it too much power. I regret it. Wasted a lot of years living in a fog.”
“What made you change?”
The side of his mouth tipped up. “My boys. Racing. They made me not want to blur through life anymore.”
She could see how much the club meant to Drake. Surge had said they were like a family. The thought was comforting. Eventually, maybe they’d feel that way about her too.
Ella smiled. “That’s really great.”
His eyes seemed to glow as he stared at her mouth. “What about you? How come I’ve never seen you around until yesterday?”
“Heh. Because you’re blind, obviously.”
“Obviously.”
His gaze took a leisurely stroll down her body. His scrutiny made her nervous and excited at the same time. Did he like what he saw? She wasn’t dressed nice or anything. She wore jeans and Red Cap’s black tank.
“I moved here about eight months ago from Milton.”
“Milton?” He looked surprised. “That’s not far.”
She shook her head. “About an hour.”
“Have family there?”
“Nope. No family left.”
“What happened to them?”
Ella tensed. She didn’t want to talk about this. Not here at work.
She looked around. Most eyes were trained on the OU game. She didn’t see any drinks that needed filling. Maybe she could give Drake the quick rundown without getting weepy. She needed to get used to talking about it anyway. Daddy deserved more than just being a memory she hoarded to herself.
“It was just me and my daddy. But eight months ago, he was taken by pancreatic cancer.” She said all this while staring at Drake’s half full glass of Coke.
“You loved him? He was good to you?”
Her gaze flashed to his. “He was the best. I loved him very much.” Her voice shook. When would thinking about this get easier?
Drake’s eyes burned her with their intensity. “I’m very sorry for your loss, Ella.”
He reached for her hand, swallowing it with his. The warm connection was a soothing balm for the chafed edges of her heart. But she always found it a little awkward when someone apologized for her father’s death. She understood the sentiment, but never knew quite how to respond.
Thank you? For what, being sorry?
It’s okay? But it wasn’t.
Sure? Too cavalier. Too dismissive.
Ella settled with a simple nod before pulling her hand from Drake’s. Instantly, she regretted the action. She wanted to grab it back, undo the disconnection, but it was too late.
“You know,” he said, staring into his drink. “All of us at the club, we’ve known loss like yours.”
Ella frowned. “All of you?”
Drake nodded, finding her eyes again. “In the fire of ’94. Actually…” He paused, releasing a tense breath. “We lost everything. Whole families. Our homes. Things were tough for a while. Blister barely made it out alive.”
Ella’s heart clenched. “Is that what happened to his face?”
Another slow nod. “He was just a young back then.”
“It was twenty years ago. I imagine you all were babies.”
Drake stiffened, but continued. “After that, we only had each other. It’s a hard thing, losing the people you love.” He stared into her eyes. “A hard thing to come back from. Healing that wound is a bitch.”
Ella didn’t want to think about healing. Part of her wanted the wound of losing daddy to fester. Feeling better just meant she was forgetting him. She didn’t want to forget him. His smile. How he smelled like cut wood. The comfort of his hugs.
She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Who raised you guys?”
“We raised ourselves.”
Ella tried to cover her surprise. “How’d you manage that?”
“We were old enough. It worked.” He shrugged.
She looked him over again, not that she needed to, but yeah, she guessed he could pass for being in his late thirties. She thought about the other dogs. If they’d more or less raised each other, it would explain why they were a tight knit group. No wonder they didn’t want a newcomer blowing in and screwing things up.
“I suppose this explains why you guys didn’t want anyone else joining your club.”
“Our club,” he corrected. “It’s yours now too. And yeah, that’s one reason. But to be honest, I don’t think we could’ve chosen a more perfect addition.”
Ella shook her head, feeling emotional from the conversation.
“It’s true,” Drake said, “You fit in with us better than you might think.”
She stared at her fisted hand resting on the countertop. Maybe he was right. “My… my daddy said my mother died in that same fire. But I never knew her. I was too young to remember.”
Drake went still, and she glanced up at him. His brow was furrowed, his eyes searching her so intently she wondered if he’d be able to read her mind.
“Your mom lived in the mountains?”
Ella nodded. “Closer to Milton than Cedar Valley. We all did. But then after her death, daddy moved us into town.”
Drake stood suddenly, planting his hands on the counter and staring at the wall behind her head.
“Freeman… Freeman…” he muttered. His gaze snapped to her. “Charles. Your father is Charles Freeman.”
Ella took a step back. “You know my daddy?” He couldn’t. Daddy talked about Drake and the Dirt Track Dogs, but only in the way of a diehard racing fan. He didn’t actually know them.
Drake shook his head, the foreboding look on his face freezing her to her spot on the floor and making her stomach cramp in warning.
“No.” His breath rushed out, and he stared at her in that way one does when they think they’ve seen a ghost. “No, but I know someone who does.”
Chapter Five
Drake was looking into a dark tunnel and a whole lot of ‘oh shit’ was chugging up the tracks. This was unbelievable. And if he’d had an inkling of doubt before about whether or not Ella belonged in their pack, it was long gone. Flying
in the fucking wind above Utah by now. Or hell, maybe it was already in another continent.
Damn. How was he supposed to tell her this? Rip the band-aid off, or lather that fucker with Vaseline first?
“I think you’d better tell me what you mean by that.” Her voice shook, but her face was stoic.
Drake sighed. Fast and hard was always his way. No reason to go and change things up now.
“Your daddy was mated to Blister’s sister. Your mother. That makes Blister your uncle. Weird, I know, but there was a ten year age gap between them.” As if the age discrepancy was the strangest part of this equation. “When everything burned, your cabin was leveled. They found the body of your mother but never yours or Charlie’s. You were both assumed dead. But Blister was the only survivor of your pack so—”
“Stop!”
Drake obeyed, taking in her furious expression. Several of the bar patrons turned their gazes in his direction, and an employee with jet black hair and a pierced… well, everything, glared at him.
“What the hell is this?” Ella hissed. “Are you messing with me so I’ll leave? Is that it?”
Oh, no. No, that was definitely not it. After what Surge told them last night, Ella wasn’t going anywhere. Not that Drake would’ve parted with her anyway. He’d be stuck on her like a tick on a deer for the rest of forever as far as he was concerned. But all these details just falling into place solidified that decision.
Ella belonged here, with him. With the club.
He shook his head, pegging her with his eyes. “No, Ella. I’m telling you the hand-to-heart truth. If you are the daughter of Charles Freeman, then you are also the niece of my friend Blister. It’s a small, small world, baby. Gets smaller everyday.”
She was shaking, her face turning a shade of red that had him worried for her health. Except…
Surge had explained her strange, yet familiar scent. Ella was a shade. A shifter who’d been raised as a human and somehow never changed into their animal form as they should have when they grew from a young. They were rare, so Drake had had his doubts.
But if anyone could recognize the scent it would be Surge, since he was also a shade. Was being the operative word. He’d transitioned into a full blown shifter years ago. But not before it drove him a little crazy. He was lucky though. His random outbursts of laughter were nothing compared to the stories of psychotic shades that were passed down to Drake as a young. Back then, he would’ve bet the stories were made up to scare people. Now, he knew better, and he wasn’t letting something like that happen to his mate.
