by Drew VanDyke
“That should be a good thing, right? Especially when it comes to survival and coexistence.”
“I think it’s a good thing. It will make them less likely to run afoul of humans that might kill them. For example, they will be smart enough not to take a rancher’s sheep or cattle.”
“Or if they have to, they would hide the evidence.”
“You’re starting to see,” he said, downing his ice tea. “But you, my dear, are an anomaly.”
“Meaning what?”
Jackson didn’t get to answer that question as I heard the sound of Will’s truck pull into the drive. The contractor-lycanthrope moved toward the back door as if self-conscious about being there…which was fair. As far as he was concerned, I was Will’s. Even if I said yes to his weird breeding project, that wouldn’t change.
Would it?
He said, “Let me know if you’re up to dinner this evening. We have plenty of time to talk about this later. Next shift’s not coming up for a few days. And don’t forget to bring your boyfriend and your appetite. I know I will.” He slipped out the back door to the yard while Will came in from the garage.
I met Will in the laundry room. Now, I can’t speak for all women, but I’ve got a higher libido than most, and after the pheromone-charged conversation with Jackson…you can imagine my state of mind and body. So, when Will stopped at the washer to strip himself out of the blue jeans, work boots and the day’s grass, sweat and grime that pervaded his forest-green t-shirt, the musk of testosterone called to me and I took him right then and there. Mounted him like the beast I was on the gleaming linoleum tile. No words, just moans and groans of mutual need until our hearts raced to climax.
Mine. My inner wolf claimed him and I nipped him in his inner thigh where my head had somehow ended up resting as we rode the afterglow, causing him to jolt awake from the receding endorphin-induced sleep.
“Mm…what was that all about?” Will yawned, settling back into the post-coital haze. “Don’t get me wrong, it was great, but usually you don’t go all primal on me unless you’re extremely stressed about something.”
“Just juggling a lot of balls in the air.” I told him staring up at the moth caught in the overhead fixture on the ceiling. Amber would absolutely hate that, I thought, and then immediately forgot about it.
One of the curses of suffering from the acute hyper-vigilance of lingering PTSD – a result of my first transformation to wolf resulting in the death of Shane McDonald – is that when I couldn’t deal with something, I’d categorically ignore it as not relevant and put it on a shelf in my mind. If it wasn’t a threat, it would fade from consciousness quickly…even faster when I distracted myself with something highly, well…distracting.
Nothing like sublimating stress into sex. Hey, at least my vices were sustainable.
“Oh, and we have an invitation to dinner at the lake with the building contractor and his boyfriend,” I said, carefully emphasizing that last bit.
“We have a gay contractor?” Will asked and I could almost see the wheels spinning in his head. “That’s progressive for this town. Hope he’s not too flamboyant or the rednecks will run him out on a rail.”
Will had always been self-conscious about his indifferent alpha maleness, and inwardly I chuckled. I’d always been alpha enough for the both of us, though if the truth were told, we were more like betas. Jackson’s being gay meant he wasn’t a threat and Will didn’t have to compete for my attention. At least not my sexual attention, I imagined he thought.
I wondered how Will would react if he ever found out about Jackson’s proposition. Boy, would he be surprised. And it wouldn’t be like we were cheating, would it? Not in human form, anyway.
Would it?
Grr.
We picked ourselves up off the floor and threw most of our clothes into the washing machine. The rest we left in piles on the laundry room floor.
“When are you due?” Will asked.
I blanched. “I’m sorry, what?” And then I realized what he was asking.
“At the lake. When does this Jackson fella want us there?” Will said, walking naked across the kitchen tile and then through the living room. Amber would have a total cow if she had any idea we were streaking through her house, but…Will had the sexiest butt on a swimmer’s body, leaping out in furry whiteness against the darker color of his farmer’s tan.
I couldn’t help but wolf-whistle as I followed him. My own olive complexion tended toward bronze from weekends in the sun.
“Six thirty,” I told Will as he stepped into the enormous shower.
It was half past three and the hot spray called to me. I loved having long hair and though right now it was only a medium length cut, grown out from the atrocious bob Amber gave me last year, it still took time to dry when I washed it. But to do that I needed the whole bathroom to myself, so I waited while he rinsed.
“Let’s plan on leaving at six, then. Should give us plenty of time to get across town and out to the lake. In the meantime, I’m taking a nap. Wanna join me?
“Naw, you go ahead. Spanky and I got a couple of winks in earlier.”
“No, I meant wanna join me in the shower. I’ll wash your back.”
“Thanks, but I’m going for a swim while I still can. Maybe get some laps in.” I turned, intending to head out to the pool house. Jackson and his construction team had left, so I would have the back yard to myself.
“Sounds like you got your voice back,” Will called, bringing me to a stop at the bathroom door.
And I had. I hadn’t noticed it. But somehow, between the time I’d woken up this morning and the time I’d woken up this afternoon, my voice had completely returned. I wondered how that happened. “Guess so.”
“Well, I’m glad. I prefer my women not sound like bullfrogs.”
I grabbed a damp washcloth from next to the sink and lobbed it over the glass, smacking him in the head.
“Hey!” he yelled. But I was already too far away for retaliation. Mentally, I mean – bookmarking a conversation with Jackson about pack magic and wondering if I was mystically benefitting from their presence.
I swam my laps naked as usual, but after about fifteen minutes, I began to feel like I was being watched. Swimming to the edge, I looked around. Will wasn’t in the window; nobody peeked over the fence next door, but I caught a blur of platinum movement up the hill in the back of the house, on a slope steeper than most humans would try without mad skills or climbing equipment. Two ice-cold blue eyes stared at me for a moment, and then disappeared.
Why would a wolf be in this area? The closest natural ones I knew of were in Idaho, or maybe Wyoming. Could it have been a Husky, or some other dog resembling a wolf? It couldn’t be a lupine or lycanthrope, not in the full sun…or could it? I had to admit to myself there was a lot I didn’t know about this business.
I’d have to ask Jackson about it later. He’d been remarkably free with information so far, no doubt to get me on his good side in hopes I’d go along with his plan, but the suspicious part of me wondered what he was leaving out. I’d have to put on my investigative journalist hat and grill him good, but to do that, Will couldn’t be there, as of course he didn’t know what I was…but being alone with Jackson had its own pitfalls.
I went inside to get ready, texting Amber that I was raiding her closet. She texted me back and told me, “If you break it, you buy it.” Yup, that’s Amber. Priorities. Guess she still remembers the time I borrowed clothes without asking, tried to do the wash and cover up the evidence and shrank her tank tops in the process.
I settled on lumberjack plaid, jeans and high-tops to coordinate with Will. I know, pushing the line between cute and cutesy. It must have been the inspiration of being surrounded by Amber’s clothes.
Chapter 3
The lodge was a monster log cabin with a dozen bedrooms and a wraparound porch connected to a deck that jutted out over the lake. That’s where we met them. Below, stairs led down to a dock, with a party boat tied
there.
Jackson said, “Will Stenfield. Ashlee Scott. This is the gang.” They looked at me like the anomaly I apparently was. But it was the way their nostrils flared when we shook hands and the way their pupils dilated as they savored the scent of me on their tongues that made the experience particularly surreal.
And Will was perfectly clueless, it seemed. That’s my boy.
“Sierra Layton. My foreman.”
The short-hared ice blonde Nordic woman had a strong grip, a calculating gaze and a smile that didn’t reach her eyes, which were cold blue…hmm. She wore khaki culottes and a starched white shirt with a stiff collar and shoulder pleats that made her look a little too Blonde Ambition for me and her scent felt sticky, like honeycombs and pine tree sap. Greek sandals wrapped up her calves, accentuating the long lines of her legs.
I had to admit her beauty was unnerving. In fact, my inner wolf responded as if challenged. I found myself wanting to take a step back while the beast within me wanted to crowd forward and intimidate. I glanced at Jackson, who cocked his head at me as if to say, you’re an alpha; what are you going to do?
But Will didn’t give me the chance. “Good to see a woman taking her rightful place in a man’s world.” He stepped forward to shake Sierra’s hand.
A glint of mirth flashed through Sierra’s eyes as she turned her attention on him and said, “Whoever said it was a man’s world?”
Something about the way she said it rubbed me wrong. My hackles began to rise as her right eyebrow twitched up and her nostrils flared. If my wolf had words, I think she would have been saying, “Bring it, bitch.”
Using that word in the most literal way possible, of course.
A short blatino male stepped into my view, defusing the tension by sticking out his hand between us girls. A layer of thick fur spilled over his bright green rugby collar and continued down his legs below his bleached white shorts. He smelled delicious, like caramel corn and mole sauce, and my wolf recognized the omega of Jackson’s Wolf pack. “Dex Watley.” He had an impish grin and an infectious laugh.
Omegas are always ready to play, to chase away boredom and distract from conflict when it threatens to escalate into the point of no return. It was easy to see his purpose here, functioning as scapegoat and clown as he caught my attention and held it with his gaze.
When I took his hand, my inner wolf sat up and took notice. Not as mating potential, but as potential confidante and friend.
I thought I saw him blush under his dark skin and we all started laughing, the awkwardness draining out of the air. He released my hand only when Jackson cleared his throat.
“Sullivan Kearney,” said the next man to hold out his hand. I inhaled and caught the scent of Jackson all over him, but on his breath came the smell of aged whiskey, essential oils and tobacco. My kind of man, I thought. He was at least ten years Jackson’s senior and reminded me of Sam Elliott, with a little old-school Texas twang.
The Dude abides, I thought as he met my gaze with the kindest smile and kissed the knuckles of my right hand. He was actually shorter than Jackson, dressed impeccably in a pair of rustic canvas jeans, dark cowboy boots, and a long-sleeved starched and pressed grey button-down with a bolo tie. He carried himself with a presence that said he knew who he was and what he wanted.
I was impressed. He would have given Amber a run for her money in the meticulous department, only he didn’t seem to be as enamored with pink as my twin was.
“Ahem.” I heard a cough behind me as Will poked me in the ribs. “You’re holding up the receiving line, honey.”
And honestly, I don’t know why I did it, but I turned and bared my teeth at Will. I swear I almost snarled. Scared myself. He even took a step back.
Jackson moved in before Will could think about what just happened.
“Will,” Jackson stuck out his hand. “I’m Jackson Wolfe. I have to apologize for Sullivan ahead of time. He’s our ladies’ man, even if he wouldn’t actually close the deal. You have nothing to worry about.”
“Ignore him.” Sullivan replied as he hovered within my olfactory zone. “And my friends call me Sully.”
Wow, now this was interesting. On first read, Sully seemed at most a decade Jackson’s senior, but when I heard the tobacco-throated burr and the slow drawl of wild country in his tone, and when I caught the smell of rich ambrosia undercut with a base of cedar about his skin, I realized that Jackson had bagged himself a considerably older guy. This was clearly a gentleman who pulled the strings from the background and created a solid center around which the pack could revolve. This wolf would nudge you like a loving father, relentlessly expecting you to be your best and always being there to lick your wounds when you didn’t fare as well as you had hoped.
“Ashlee.” Will broke into my inner monologue and I jumped, remembering that, though I enjoyed following the intellectual spoor in my thoughts, I did live on the earthly plain.
Luckily, I was saved by the bell – er, um, by the belly up to the bar, I should say, as Dex called, “Anyone for libation?”
This broke the tableau, and the group wandered over to where the drinks were being served. Appetizers were a crab asparagus brioche topped off with a delicate Napa Pinot. And yes, I thought it. My pee was going to smell extra special in the morning. Admit it: you think it too, when you eat asparagus. Thank God I didn’t say it out loud.
“Is this everyone? I expected there to be more in the pack,” I said.
Will looked at me strangely.
Jackson furrowed his brow and cocked his head with a warning glance. “Oh, you must mean is this all of my crew?”
I ducked mine in embarrassment. “Of course. Your work crew, I meant. Dunno where my mind was.”
“No, there are more, but I didn’t want to overwhelm you with too many new people at once,” Jackson said. “This keeps it more intimate, don’t you think?” He flashed that mischievous grin and winked as he wrapped his arm around Sullivan’s back.
“What’s your pleasure, folks?” Dex said as he began taking drink orders.
“I’ll be back in a minute.” I escaped to the ladies room in the confusion. At least, that was my excuse to get the grand tour of the lodge without a guide.
As I wandered through the downstairs, I realized that this wasn’t just any run-of-the-mill building: this was an expression of love by a master craftsman of carpentry. Photos in waterproof frames showed Jackson and Sully in exotic places I’d only dreamed of. Although I’d traveled quite a bit, I didn’t have half the resume that these fellows did.
“This place is amazing isn’t it?” Will said as he came up behind me and I turned into his embrace. I suppose he’d wondered where I was and tracked me down. “I like the use of back lighting in the cabinetry.”
“I know. I’m envious. But I don’t know how they do it. Dragging all this stuff from Montana and setting it up just for a job,” I muttered to myself. That made me wonder. This looked less like a rental and more like somewhere they would be staying permanently.
I shuddered and suddenly felt very confined by my surroundings. I took a deep breath and the feeling of anxiety passed. “Canines don’t like water so much,” I mused aloud.
“Canines?” Will said as I mentally whacked my forehead.
Way to go, Ashlee. Way to let the wolf out of the bag. My only saving grace is that Will is often more clueless than I am.
“Just thinking about Spanky, and whether I could live in a place like this.”
“Your mind is all over the place tonight,” Will said and he kissed me before slapping me on the ass as he headed to the men’s room. And there was one: a men’s room, I mean, and a ladies room. Very good for entertaining…or communal living.
Both of the facilities were polished to perfection and gleaming with burnished wood and handcrafted touches that bespoke of a masculine presence with a strong thread of feminine sensibility.
“Hey, Ash!” Will called as he opened the door. “The men’s room even has a bidet. Do peopl
e really use these, or are they just showing off?”
I let out an exasperated snort. That’s my Will. California Redneck, all the way. Guess I’m going to have to work his edges a bit more, I thought. I don’t know why it was my responsibility to educate the world, but there you have it. It’s what we writers do. “Just think of it as a shower for your butt,” I replied. “Gets you really clean.”
“Ashlee!” Dex called from the bar. “I got a Lemon Drop with your name on it.” I decided we’d been unsociable for far too long and returned to the deck, Will following close behind.
The feast that followed was sumptuous, the kind of fare any carnivore would love. Heavy on the red meat, offset by luscious greens dripping in a tangy citrus mango dressing. What with the alcohol flowing and overstimulation on the extrasensory level I could barely keep an articulate thought in my head until after we’d all sat back and undone the top buttons of our pants.
Yup, that’s me. Such a lady.
Sierra spoke into a conversational break and all the attention shifted to her, though I knew Sullivan was keeping me constantly in the corner of his eye. “So, Ashlee, Dex and I are going out to Laguna Del Sol this weekend and we were wondering if you’d like to join us.”
It was an invitation, and a challenge. My wolf took notice.
I looked at Dex, who acted as if this was a surprise to him and he knew that Sierra was lying, but his face smoothed over as he thought about the prospect.
“What’s Laguna del Sol?” Will spoke the words aloud that I had in my head and I looked over at him eerily. I’d never done that with anyone but Mom and my twin. Freaky. Probably just coincidence.
Sullivan spoke up. “Laguna Del Sol is an hour from here, about a half hour outside Sacramento.”
“It’s totally great, Ashlee.” Dex interjected. “It’s this awesome resort where you can play water volleyball and stuff, all day long.”
“They also have tennis and regular volleyball courts, a family pool, and even an indoor pool where you can swim in the winter,” Sierra said.
