by Vivian Arend
“Your Alpha?”
“Yup.” He shook her cases. “We can drop these at the registration desk, then I’ll take you to see him.”
The double doors slid open with a soft sigh, and Gem glanced around with curiosity as they entered. The welcoming foyer was as tidy as any resort she’d visited with her father down south. Swarms of plants filled the perimeter of the reception area, accompanied by the flash of modern chrome and leather.
“No fake boardwalks or gold rush decorating?”
David snorted. “The bar is more rustic, but no. Visitors get enough history walking downtown. We decided to make the place a bit of a refuge from the turn-of-the-century overload you can get otherwise.”
Smart move. She certainly felt more comfortable in this setting than if there had been rough-hewn boards or spittoons on the floor.
Not that she knew up close and in person what a spittoon looked like.
“Caroline, can you get our new arrival fixed up?” David placed her bags by the desk. The very efficient blonde human behind the counter gave him a wink before taking Gem through the check-in process. She seemed unconcerned she was surrounded by werewolves.
Gem watched Caroline with unashamed interest. At home, everyone was a wolf—from her extended family down to the servants in the familial mansion. When it came right down to it, she hadn’t been close to that many humans. Taking another glance at the receptionist, Gem sized her up. Pretty creature. Smelled faintly like a wolf, probably because she was around them so often. Decent clothing, although with her blonde hair and lighter skin—Gem jerked upright. Oh shoot, this train of thought wasn’t acceptable. She was being a snob. Just because Whitehorse was above the sixtieth parallel didn’t mean all the residents were uncultured rednecks.
If she was tired of being unfairly judged, she’d better not do it herself.
“Is Evan working?” David asked, leaning on the counter.
Caroline glanced at a monitor. “He’s not serving, and I see a ‘do not disturb’ notification on his office line. Do you want me to send through a message that you need to see him?”
David put the question to Gem. “You want to wait in the bar for a few minutes?”
“Could I go to my room first?” From traveling all day to heading straight to see an Alpha? One whom she might have inadvertently upset by breaking protocol? No way. She needed to be fresh and dressed for success, not wearing wrinkled and travel-worn clothes.
“Sure. I’ll give you some time. We can have a drink until Evan is free. Caroline, send him a note, and I’ll take it from there.”
The young woman nodded, then handed Gem a key card. “Your room is down the hall. I’ve kept you on the main floor, but put you on the far side of the hotel away from the bar. The rooms should be quieter over there.”
Gem smiled her thanks and turned to grab her bags. David already had them hoisted, waiting for her to lead the way.
The room was bright, clean and much smaller than anything she’d ever stayed in before while traveling with her father. Gem flicked on the light in the bathroom and wrinkled her nose at the missing features. Hmmm, no bidet or heated towel bars.
“How long should I give you?”
She jerked from her observations to spot David standing beside the dresser, next to her suitcase. Gem considered for a moment before responding. “Half an hour?”
He left without another word. She closed the door, wondering at the diversity of people she’d met since leaving home that morning. The whole experience was rather thrilling.
A hotel room, all to herself. Another first in her books. She was determined to make this trip overflow with new adventures.
Gem took one more slow revolution to examine her surroundings. A queen-sized bed, a couch against the wall. Small television, generic curtains and artwork. Surely there was more—there had to be. Her maid’s room was larger than this.
There—across from the bathroom—another wooden door with a deadbolt. Gem twirled the lock and tugged the door inward, waiting with anxious anticipation to see…
Another door. This one with no doorknob. Gem pushed on the wood, but nothing budged. What kind of strange world was the Yukon that they had doors that led nowhere? She closed the door on her side of the room, suddenly aware she was wasting time. She pressed the latch shut and jumped as her cell phone rang.
“Poop.” Daddy’s ring tone. Her cheeks flashed hot at being caught swearing, kind of, as she dug in her purse for her phone. She simultaneously snapped on the answer button and reached for the zipper on her suitcase. She had less than twenty-five minutes before David returned.
“Gemmita? Everything okay, little girl? You were supposed to phone as soon as you arrived.”
She bit back the retort she wanted to voice. My, she must be a lot more tired than she expected. Either that, or there was something in the northern air that had erased all her manners. “I was about to ring. I haven’t been here long. As a matter of fact, I’ve just checked into my room.”
“You can change your mind about this. You don’t have to prove anything to me, sweetie.”
Arghhh, fathers. Was she ever going to be more than a child to him?
“I’m fine, Daddy. And I want to do this. The trip is an exciting part of my education, and a real opportunity to put my training into action.” His silence on the other end of the line did nothing to increase her happiness. Gem shucked her shoes and stockings, digging one-handed into her suitcase to find fresh underclothes while placating her parent. “I have some sightseeing planned, the northern flight is already booked. I’ve got all my equipment arranged—everything is in place. You knew a field excursion was a part of my schooling when I signed up.”
“I expected you would conduct your research somewhere in Georgia, not in the middle of nowhere, hundreds of miles from home.”
Gem tucked her phone into the crook of her neck and awkwardly held it in place. She’d even surprised herself with the radical idea. Finding a research topic that forced her to go to the Yukon?
She’d anticipated he’d be upset.
“I know you’ll miss me, but everything will be fine. It’s three weeks, four at the tops, and I’ll have the information needed to finish my paper. Plus, this project should give me a good shot at getting that job with the company you approved of.”
“You don’t need to work.” His change of tack was a resumption of the oldest argument they’d ever had, starting well before her mother had passed away.
Gem hopped on one foot as she pulled on new silk stockings. “I’m not having that discussion, Daddy, so stop. I’ll be home within the month. If you want to contact me, use email. Otherwise, please, let me do this? I am capable, of this and more.”
The alternative was to admit she was nothing but a piece of spoiled fluff like she’d overheard her fellow students declare. It wasn’t true—there was so much they didn’t know about her, things that she chose to go along with simply to keep the peace. But now? She had to see this project through to the end.
Her father sighed, long suffering in his tone. “Yes, Gemmita, I’ll let you go. I want you to phone me the instant you need anything, you understand? Anything. What the hell good is having money if I can’t use it to make sure you’re comfortable and happy?”
She forced a laugh. “I love you. I’m going to enjoy every minute of the adventure, okay? And I’ll tell you all about it when I get home.”
She blew him a kiss then scrambled to tuck the phone away and finish getting dressed. Only, what should she wear? At home, meeting an Alpha was a formal event, with all the highest-level pack in attendance. Not to mention she had broken protocol—groveling could be a messy business if she didn’t set the right tone from the start.
Gem eyed the clothes she’d purchased for her upcoming fieldwork and wrinkled her nose. Nope. Sturdy canvas and baggy cotton would not do. She dug deeper into the suitcase and went for the high-powered artillery, fingers crossed the Alpha was single and at least remotely interested
in females.
Wrapping dazzled males around her little finger and making sure they weren’t aware of it was one area in which she had some experience.
Chapter Two
After half an hour in Evan’s office, Shaun was feeling better than he had in weeks. Months even. The liquor in the dusty bottle had been poured into teeny tiny glasses, and he’d shot back the first round in one toss. Evan’s brows hit the ceiling right about the time Shaun’s brain lit on fire.
“Most people sip it, dude.”
“Shit.” His throat was melting, his tonsils had incinerated. They might be able to figure out how old he was if there was anything left of his teeth to carbon date.
But now that it seemed a good ninety-five percent of his blood was pumping with that same fiery fluid, Shaun didn’t have a care in the world, or a discreet tongue in his head.
“I mean, life sucks. All my friends got mates, man. And I’m alone in the dark hangar with nothing but flipping my helicopter to keep me warm.”
Evan frowned. He started to speak a couple of times, stopping as if confused.
“Wassup?” Shaun’s tongue had grown thicker, and his words weren’t flowing so good. The windows wiggled in the walls.
Cool. He’d never seen windows do that before.
“You’re doing what to your helicopter?”
Shaun paused in confusion. It had to be the liquor. Evan had clearly lost his mind. “What?”
“You were flipping your helicopter.”
Was his Alpha going deaf? Such a sad thing to happen to such a young man. Shaun spoke slower, and trifle louder—just in case that would help. “I hit and fuck chopper, and fly hangars in the dark.”
Evan nodded. One of those go along with the crazy person—let’s not agitate him nods. The fact Shaun had seen that kind of response so many times it was instantly recognizable kinda burned.
“I’m trying to imagine how the hell you’re masturbating that you call it a helicopter. Sounds painful.”
What in the world? Shaun rushed to explain, even as his tongue tangled further. “No, no, I’m flying my hangar. Wait, I mean, I’m shitting in my hanging, ducking my flapping heli.” He slammed a hand over his mouth. Damn. His brain cells had melted into a lump of jelly. Or Jell-O. Wiggling neon Jell-O with raspberries floating in the middle layer…
He shook his head and attempted to focus both eyes on the same point. Nope—not happening. The room did one slow revolution counterclockwise, and he stared upward, expecting to spot a disco ball or something dangling from the ceiling to explain the sparkling lights flashing on the walls. Wolf metabolism usually dealt with alcohol in a quick and efficient manner. His didn’t seem to be working tonight. Shaun snatched the bottle off the table, the blue glass swelling and shrinking before his eyes. “What. The hell. Is this shit?”
Evan sprawled in his La-Z-Boy and took another sip. Every muscle relaxed, contentment oozed out from him like a cat that had fallen into a bucket of cream after tormenting the dog. “Moonshine, from my old pack. Doubles as rocket fuel.”
“Fuckit.” The room spun quicker. “Freak me out. I mean, get me drinked?”
“You may as well sit and be quiet for a bit.” Evan peered at him, shaking his head in disgust. “Here I thought you could hold your liquor. Sad. Sad state of affairs.”
Shaun would have argued, but right now there was this super interesting crack in the ceiling that grew, sprouting mosaic arms of purple and chartreuse. He leaned back in his chair to get a better view, reaching down to tug the recliner arm and raise the footrest, like he’d seen Evan do.
The next minute these really cool glowing lights were dancing in front of his eyes.
“Shaun, that’s not a recliner.”
Shaun reached to his side and tapped. Solid wood boards met his fingers. His back was well supported, legs stretched out. The room now spun in the opposite direction. “Did I fall down?”
“And you can’t get up again.”
“Cool. I’ll just…you know, hang out for a bit. Okay with you?”
Evan laughed. “Sure. Only next time? Sip the ’shine, got it?”
“No prob.”
It was kind of comfy on the floor. Evan rose and lit the fire, warmth pouring from the hearth to pool past where Shaun lay.
“Hey, did you…” Shaun lost track of the words. Why was he here again?
It wasn’t because he was bored. No, he was sure there were plenty of things he was supposed to do. He had Maxwell’s Silver Hammer, the aviation company he co-owned with a buddy. A full summer schedule approaching where he’d be busy providing helicopter trips over the most beautiful part of the world. Sightseeing and supply dumps, and the occasional medical emergency—he did them all. So why did he feel like crap?
Oh. Right. His friends were deserting him.
“You ever get lonely, Evan?” Shaun scrambled to his feet then held out his glass to his Alpha who carefully poured him another two fingers’ worth. Shaun eyed his chair, the one on the floor, and decided the couch appeared a trifle more sturdy.
“I find it fascinating what topics I hear when I serve the good stuff. No, Shaun, I’m never lonely. I have all the pack around. And friends, like you. Although, I’m not sure why I’m trying to talk to you anymore. You’re so pissed right now I could tell you anything I want and you’ll never remember a word in the morning.”
“Really?” His hand shook. The liquid in his glass sloshed and Shaun lapped the spilt alcohol off his fingers carefully. It wouldn’t do to make a mess in his Alpha’s office. “Then tell me big secrets, man. The kind of stuff you don’t share with anyone, but think about when you’re all alone…” sniff “…alone. Like me. Fuck.”
There was a reason he wasn’t supposed to do this, but he couldn’t remember the specifics. He held the glass to his lips and tossed his head back. An icy sensation bled down his throat, seconds before the cold morphed into daggers stabbing his brain from the inside out.
“Shaun! Damn fool, that’s it, you’re cut off.”
The glass disappeared from his fingers. The same fingers that glowed in a wonderful Aurora Borealis imitation. It was as if all the flames he’d consumed were attempting to escape from his body through his skin.
The visuals were either very cool or very creepy.
The cushions of the couch reached up fluffy fingers to cradle him tighter, and Shaun sighed. Evan’s face appeared in his line of vision, the man’s dark hair waving as he shook his head.
“I know it’s strong, but, damn. You have the worst tolerance for moonshine of any shifter I’ve ever met.” Evan hauled a chair over, the feet screeching on the wooden floor. The shiver up Shaun’s spine exploded out his ears.
“Ouch.”
Evan leaned back and crossed his arms. He cupped his chin for a moment then dropped his hand to point at Shaun.
“You know what your problem is? You don’t have a mission.”
“I need a mission?” Cool. Didn’t know that was a requirement of the Takhini pack.
“Something to give you a reason to get up in the morning. Shaun, I’ve watched you since you settled back in Whitehorse. You’re listless. You fight if you have to, but you don’t enjoy it, not even when you win.”
“I always win.”
Evan nodded. “Of course you do, because you’re a strong wolf. But you succeed without even trying. It’s easy for you to win against the punks who come to try you. The more experienced wolves avoid you—they know you’re strong, even if you are a little stupid.”
“Hey—”
“Because you’re not fighting to become a leader in the pack. You’re simply fighting to fight.” Evan shook his head and that finger popped out again. Shaun tried tracking the shaking object, but he found it damn near impossible to tell which was the real finger amongst the liquor haze.
Okay, this was interesting, but a bit too much like therapy.
“I don’t want your job,” Shaun blurted out. Hell would be preferable to run. At least demons
were predictable, unlike wolves who were endlessly creative in coming up with new mischief to try.
“You don’t want my job.” Evan shot back, his confidence screaming out.
Shaun hesitated. “Did we already have this conversation? It sounds familiar.”
“You don’t want to be Alpha, Shaun. You’d have to actually give a damn about someone then.”
Ouch. The words percolated through the alcohol haze, and a thin line of cold ran up his core. “What a fucker of a comment. If I’m that much of an asshole, why did you let me return to the pack?”
“Because at the root of it, you’re only an asshole because you don’t give a damn about yourself right now either, and I’m getting annoyed at your stupid refusal to grow up.”
Okay, that was one step too far. “And did you get this special bullshit training in Alpha school or—?”
Suddenly Evan was right in Shaun’s face, and he couldn’t budge. Evan had him pinned in a neck hold, trapping his body against the couch. There was no air getting through his windpipe, and Shaun scrambled his fingers over Evan’s forearm. Stars appeared in front of his eyes, glowing even brighter than the mysterious Northern Lights clouding everything else in the room.
“Don’t mistake my tolerance for weakness.” Evan hissed in his ear. Dangerous. Shaun fought back as hard as possible and barely moved. Evan held him immobile. “You’re a damn good wolf, and I’m getting tired of seeing you waste your life. You don’t need to want to save the world, but you need to care enough to do what’s right for more than simply a lark.”
Blessed air flooded into his lungs as Evan released him, settling him back into the couch’s soft surface. Shaun stared at his Alpha, shocked nearly sober—well, maybe not that. Definitely chastised enough to remember a few manners, though.
“I’m…sorry.”
Evan shrugged. “I am too. I don’t usually lose my temper.” He retook his seat, sipping his moonshine as he stared into the fire. “You need to face it, Shaun. We’re wolves. We like having a pack around, but there are times it’s not the pack we long for.”
Fuck. Shaun didn’t think he’d told anyone about the ache in his gut for a mate. For the feeling of truly belonging. “Have I been talking in my sleep or something?”
