Mate of the Wolf

by Karen Whiddon

  Mate of the Wolf

  By Karen Whiddon

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter One

  “Oh my dog, I think I see him.” Allison Berg gripped her cell phone and tried not to stare. She rose onto her tiptoes in the doorway of Shorelines bar and craned her neck to get a better look.

  “Is he hot?” Her human friend Emily sounded amused. Why shouldn’t she? After all, this was the fifth blind date Allie had gone on this month. Em claimed that Allie’s dating stories were the only thing that got her through the chemo.

  “If that’s him, yes. I’ll tell you about it later. Gotta go.” Allie closed her phone and took a deep breath, trying to maintain her composure. She headed across the room, trying to appear nonchalant, but still feminine.

  He wasn’t Pack—she’d noticed the singular lack of an aura. That was odd. Jen knew she didn’t want to date non-Pack men. Still, he was the best looking man she’d ever seen, just as Jen had promised. Maybe her rule about not dating humans was way outdated.

  As a matter of fact, something new might be exactly what she needed.

  She stopped at the bar and ordered a glass of white wine. For courage.

  “Another date?” The bartender, another Pack member, took in Allie’s trendy yellow minidress and strappy mango heels and grinned. “Who’s the lucky guy this time?”

  “Jen set me up on a blind date.”

  Chance’s brows rose as he handed her the wine. “And you let her? Look what happened last time.”

  “I know, I know.” She lifted her chin, checking out the small stage where the band was setting up. “That’s why I only agreed to meet for a drink. I had dinner at home.”

  “Speed dating.” He smiled. “Only you.” His expression changed, becoming serious. “How’s Emily doing?”

  The entire town knew Chance had a thing for Allie’s best friend. Emily had even dated him once or twice. Chance believed she was his mate, even though she was human. Allie didn’t think so, especially since Emily had confessed she just wasn’t that into him.

  But Chance refused to give up. He’d pursued Em relentlessly. Then she was diagnosed with stage IV breast cancer. She’d undergone a complete mastectomy and started an intensive radiation and chemotherapy treatment. Sick, Emily refused to even answer his phone calls.

  Allie knew how badly this hurt Chance.

  “She’s doing as well as she can. She has one more round of chemo before she’s done. Then it’s wait and see.” Allie swallowed, blinking back sudden tears. Emily had told her the cancer had invaded her lymph nodes. Despite all the treatments, she was dying. Her doctors predicted she wouldn’t see thirty. Emily had made Allie promise not to tell anyone. She claimed she wanted to die with dignity.

  “Tell her we’re praying for her, will you?” Chance touched the back of Allie’s hand, bringing her back to her surroundings. “And ask her to call me.”

  Allie nodded. Chance asked the same thing every time he saw her. Allie always dutifully passed the message along to her friend. And Emily always nodded, then proceeded to ignore the request.

  “I’d better get on with it, hadn’t I?” Lifting her hand in a quick wave, Allie took a sip of her wine and moved away from the bar. Tonight she’d actually considered standing up her date. Not just because she’d had second thoughts. Quite simply, she was tired. Tired of bad dates, tired of knowing within the first ten minutes that this guy would make a great friend, but nothing more, tired of fending off men with too many arms, roaming hands, beer breath and bad come-on lines.

  For the first time in her twenty-seven years, she was tired of trying to find Mr. Right.

  Emily teased her, alluding to her well-known set of rules. Em was the only one who knew all of them—and she was the only human who knew that Allie was Pack. Rule number one: date only Pack members. Two: if the chemistry isn’t there by the second date, don’t go on a third. And three: let them down gently, avoiding confrontation at all costs.

  What could she say? She didn’t believe in wasting time. If nothing was going to happen, she’d acknowledge that and move on.

  Still, all of her Pack friends continued to set her up on dates. Sometimes she thought they had a competition going to see whose pick would last the longest.

  Jen had insisted this guy would be the one. Allie had tried to refuse her but finally let herself be convinced to give it one more try.

  Except Friday had turned into the day from hell at work, as she’d handled one irate customer after another, and now all she wanted to do was sit on the dock outside the marina, dangle her feet in the water and fish. Trooping around a crowded bar in heels and a dress to the sound of a band she’d heard a thousand times seemed as appealing as scrubbing toilets.

  Until she’d seen him.

  “Hell hounds, let that be my date,” she muttered under her breath, moving across the room toward his table. The man was tall and broad shouldered, with long auburn hair and a chiseled, compassionate face. He wore a leather biker jacket and dark sunglasses, even in the dimly lit bar.

  In other words, he was drop-dead gorgeous.

  “He ain’t from around here, that’s for sure.” Carrying a tray of drinks, one of the waitresses stopped long enough to comment. “Is he yours?”

  “Lord, I hope so.” Allie continued moving in the stranger’s direction.

  He watched her cross the room. As she approached his table, he removed the sunglasses.

  Allie froze. Eyes like that—the color of sun-warmed amber, framed by long, dark lashes—should be illegal on a man.

  Forcing herself to move forward, she was conscious of several other men staring. She had a reputation here in town—one of her dates had told her she was known as Queen Tease. The other things they called her were not so nice. Inflexible, frigid and set in her ways. Just because she had a set of rules.

  Almost to his table—oh please let him be her blind date—and intent on her thoughts—but who else could he be?—she didn’t see the beer bottle someone had dropped on the floor until her heel caught it.

  One leg went left, the other went right, and she heard the sound of tearing cloth as she fell. Her elbow caught a passing waitress’s tray, upending a pitcher of beer all over herself. Soaked to the skin, Allie made an inelegant pirouette, trying to regain her balance, and fell against the table, knocking it into the man she’d been trying to impress. Her wine shot out of the glass she’d somehow managed to hang on to, splashing all over him.

  Her last thought before she slammed her head into the table and crumpled to the ground was that this was one hell of a way to start a blind date.

  Chapter Two

  The woman in the bed blinked sleepily, staring at him from her gorgeous blue eyes. Her tousled, jet-black hair and slightly flushed complexion made Kane Webster think of other things one did in beds. Things he hadn’t wanted to do in a long, long time. Decades.

  “I’m so sorry,” she gasped. “Are you all right?”

  Leaning back in his chair, he nodded. “Better than you, apparently.”

  Her eyes widened upon hearing his voice. Most likely she was shocked at his clipped British accent. Since he’d been in this country, he’d noticed women either loved the accent or hated it. No middle ground.

  “So, I guess you’re him?” she asked.

  “Who?”

  “My blind date.” Swallowing, she blinked again. “I’m Allison Berg.”

  Kane had never been anyone’s blind date in his entire life—a
ll four hundred years of it. Suddenly, for this woman, he wanted to be. “Yes,” he answered, enjoying the rush of pink that deepened her cheeks.

  Her heartbeat accelerated, beating a butterfly flutter in the delectable hollow at the base of her throat. He wanted to taste her there, in the age-old courtship ritual of his kind. The fact that her kind was practically forbidden to him did nothing to stifle his desire.

  He had a serious case of the hots for a shape-shifter. That could be a problem. Vampires and shape-shifters generally tolerated each other, nothing more. Despite the uneasy truce between their two races, a lot of animosity remained. If the Vampire Council found out, the repercussions could be serious.

  She made a sound, drawing his attention. Focusing on her exquisite face once more, Kane realized he didn’t care what she was. He hadn’t wanted a woman like this for centuries. Though she didn’t know it yet, she would be his. That was all that mattered.

  “You hit your head,” he told her, a bit unnecessarily since she’d raised her hand to feel the white, turbanlike bandage. “The fall knocked you out and you have a nasty cut, but they don’t think your low-grade concussion is serious. They put in some stitches and said you ought to be fine. The nurse is looking for a doctor so you can be released to go home.”

  “Why are you here?” she asked. “I mean, I’m a bit surprised to wake up and find you sitting by the side of my bed.” Again, rose suffused her cheeks. “You don’t even know me.”

  “I felt somewhat responsible.”

  “Responsible?” Her self-conscious laugh sounded a bit forced. She appeared nervous—of him? “You’re not responsible. That’s ridiculous. I’m very sorry I knocked the table into you and spilled my wine all over you.” She sighed. “I guess I can add ‘clumsy’ to my online profile.”

  “Online profile?” He raised a brow. “MySpace?”

  If anything, his question made her blush deepen.

  “Matchmaker.com. It’s an online dating service.”

  Staring, Kane shook his head. “Why would someone who looks like you have to use an online dating service?” He felt a stab of jealously at the idea. He didn’t want other men looking at her online and thinking they could possess her.

  “I work for a family-owned insurance agency and this is a small town. Since I’m not likely to meet anyone at work, and I know most of the guys around here—” she made a face “—Matchmaker.com seemed like a good idea.”

  Leaning forward, he watched her nostrils flare as she tried to catch his scent. Since he was undead, he had no bodily aromas and, unless he doused himself in men’s cologne, gave off no odor of any kind. From the narrowing of her long-lashed eyes, he could see that puzzled her.

  “You’re different,” she stated flatly. “I’m not sure I—”

  Deliberately letting his gaze roam over her, he gave her a slow smile, careful to keep his fangs retracted. “You’re not sure you…what?”

  After a moment’s hesitation, she smiled back. If he’d had a still-beating heart, Kane thought it would be pounding in his chest. This woman had no idea how she affected him. Worse, despite his lack of scent, she apparently believed him to be human. She exhibited none of the animosity her kind normally displayed toward the undead.

  “Never mind.” Shaking her head, her expression bemused, she swung her long legs over the side of the bed. “Would you help me stand up? I feel a little dizzy.”

  He knew an instant of sharp, bitter longing. If only this gorgeous, sexy shape-shifter woman could have been of his own kind. Eternally beautiful, a vampire like her he would never forget. No man with a sharp set of fangs ever would.

  “Of course.” He held out his arm, sighing when she placed her small hand on his skin.

  “Have we met?” she asked suddenly, wrinkling her nose and frowning. Even that he found endearing.

  “No.”

  “I didn’t think so. But you look familiar for some reason. I thought maybe I’d seen you on TV or something. Are you an actor?”

  “An actor?” He chuckled, resisting the urge to lean in and press a kiss on her full lips. “No. I’m in the music business. Recording industry. That’s why I was in that bar earlier. I came to check out the band.”

  “The Digests? They’re a local band, pretty good.” She blinked, frowning again. “Then you aren’t my blind date, are you?”

  For a moment, he couldn’t answer. Everything about this woman, from the arch of her neck to the way she tossed her hair, aroused him. Creamy skin, hair the color of night, graceful, athletic build. Her eyes were the most unusual color, like sapphires with a coating of gold flakes. He felt the pull of her beauty and hoped—no, believed, from her heightened color and rapid heart rate—that she felt it, too.

  Astounding. He hadn’t been this stirred up in the past two hundred and fifty years, if ever.

  Collecting his thoughts, he smiled again, still careful to hide his fangs. He used his other hand to gently help her stand. She wobbled a little, and he used that as an excuse to hold her close. He knew shape-shifters had quick healing powers. No doubt she would be fully healed before another hour had passed.

  “No, my name is Kane Webster. I’m afraid I’m not your date. But if you’re willing, I’d like to be. Starting right now, if you’re up to it.”

  Chapter Three

  Rules were meant to be broken. Gripping Kane’s arm, Allie knew if she’d ever be tempted to go outside her comfort zone, this man would be the one to seduce her into doing so.

  Seduce. Just the thought made her nipples ache. She only hoped he couldn’t tell how he affected her. Another shape-shifter would smell her desire. This human male would have no idea. Though she still hadn’t figured out why he had no scent. All humans had scents, didn’t they?

  Maybe she didn’t know as much about humans as she thought she did. Or maybe this guy was super clean.

  “Are you all right?” Kane asked, his deep voice making her yearn to touch him.

  “Yes.” Though still wrapped in the ridiculous bandage, her head didn’t even hurt—it was already healing. Being a full-blooded shape-shifter came with advantages, fast healing being one of them.

  “Then go out with me. Please.”

  Should she? She got the feeling he didn’t often say please. Glancing at her watch, she debated. Barely ten o’clock on a Friday night. Sad that she would even contemplate going home to spend the rest of the evening alone watching television when she had the most amazing man she’d ever met flirting with her.

  “Let me buy you a drink?” he asked.

  That wonderful British accent was also driving her crazy. “Maybe one,” she conceded.

  He gave that sexy slow smile again and she melted inside. You know, perhaps it was time for a fling. Especially if she really planned to quit dating for while. She might as well have one uninhibited wild fling. Even if he was human.

  Hell hounds, especially if he was human. If she was going to act completely out of character, with who better than this drop-dead gorgeous stranger passing through town?

  None of her friends would have to know. Except Emily. Allie told her everything. She couldn’t wait to tell her about Kane Webster.

  Moving silently in white sneakers, the nurse finally brought the papers. Allie signed, grateful to see that the woman’s aura showed she was Pack. She didn’t bother giving any health-related suggestions, aware Allie would be fine before she made it home. Before leaving, she helped Allie take the bandage off her head.

  “Ready to go?” Kane gazed down at her, his eyes full of promises.

  For the first time in…well, a long time, a thrill went through her, a sharp stir of anticipation. Hounds, oh hounds, this was going to be fantastic.

  “I am,” she replied. Since Kane had no idea about her healing powers, she took advantage, leaning into him on the way to his car, relishing the feel of his muscular arms around her, noting how elegant his large hands were, with his long fingers and well-groomed nails.

  Instead of taking her back
to Shorelines, he took her to a smaller pub, one without live music and thus less crowded. He snagged a table on the open balcony, under the moonlight, overlooking the lake. Once she was settled, he went to get them drinks.

  The second he went inside, Allie called Em. She knew her friend would still be up; the chemo made her restless, unable to sleep. Em would be pacing the floor, fighting the nausea—she’d welcome the distraction.

  “Hello?”

  Talking fast, Allie filled her in on the night’s events. To her credit, Em didn’t comment on Allie’s clumsy mishap—knowing her so well, she knew that kind of thing happened often.

  “Breaking your iron-clad rules?” Emily teased. For the past year, ever since her diagnosis, Emily had been telling Allie that her strict adherence to her dating rules was Allie’s way of dealing with a situation she couldn’t control—Em’s cancer.

  Allie suspected Em was right. Bringing order into her own life gave her a feeling of security, a haven of safety when she wanted to rage against the cruel fate intent on robbing her best friend of life.

  But tonight, she’d break every one of those rules. Every single howling one.

  She spotted Kane returning from the bar with her drink. She couldn’t help but notice that every woman in the room watched him as he passed.

  Hounds, she couldn’t blame them. Just seeing the man heading toward her, his elegant stride making him seem to float, made her mouth grow dry.

  “I’ll tell you about it later,” Allie promised. “Gotta go. He’s coming back.” She snapped the phone closed and slipped it into her purse just as Kane reached their table.

  “Here you go.” Setting her white wine in front of her, he held her gaze as he took his seat. The look in his fabulous dark eyes promised delights so sensual she nearly licked her lips in anticipation.

  Hounds, how could a human man be so hot?