by Aline Hunter
He hadn’t counted on how furious the notion made him. Werewolves didn’t blink at nudity. It was second nature to be comfortable in either skin. But the thought of other males staring at his mate and seeing what she kept hidden beneath her clothes pissed him off.
Good thing we’re enjoying the first moon alone.
“Point taken,” he grumbled, releasing her chin and rising to his feet. “I’ll have to make sure you keep extra clothes handy. I’d hate to kill someone for doing something as innocent as enjoying a breathtaking view.”
Placing her hands on the sides of the tub, she reclined against the back and relaxed. “Just remember it goes both ways. Turnabout is fair play.”
With a shake of his head he turned from the enticing vision resting in the water and went to put on some clothes. She didn’t have to worry about him remembering things went both ways. How could he possibly forget? The message she’d been sending was loud and crystal clear. If he displayed the goods, she’d do the same.
He recognized a threat when he heard one.
I’m so fucked.
When the pack learned Chloe’d had him by the balls, Jackson knew he’d never live it down. The first time he ducked behind a tree or bush to shift forms would be the end of it. Word would spread and his image would take a nosedive. Jackson Donovan—pack Alpha, successful tattoo artist and businessman, whipped into shape by a small armful of female who made the rules and enforced them with an iron fist.
Son of a bitch.
Tonight was going to be hell.
Chapter Eleven
Chloe squirmed in her seat, stuck between her grandfather and her lover, rocking with the motions of the truck Gramps had insisted they drive. Jackson had gotten dressed as she’d requested, accepting the gauntlet she’d tossed. He’d teased her with kisses and lingering touches, on his best behavior when he took her home to speak to her grandfather.
Things had gone better than she’d expected.
Jackson had told her grandfather of his intentions and promised to marry her properly to appease his human in-laws. She’d been shocked by his declaration. Jackson had indicated their mating was a forever deal but having him state it so clearly—without a trace of hesitation—impacted her in the most wonderful way. She wanted to greet each day with him, learn everything there was to know about him and enjoy every single moment of their lives together. There was no doubt, no nervous jitters. She’d finally found what she needed—the man who complemented and completed her.
The day had been amazing. Almost perfect.
Until they went into Gramps’ office and her grandfather relayed his terms for meeting with Gavin Worthington.
The man, without a doubt, was bloodthirsty.
He’d stated his terms clearly, so there was no misunderstanding. He would drive himself to the hunt and return in his truck, thank you very much. No need for an escort. He also wanted to bring his gun. Additional ammo was optional, so long as he had a round in the chamber. He wanted one-on-one time with Mr. Worthington, meaning he didn’t want any interference.
The no-interference part had terrified her.
Gramps—youthful and energetic despite his age—was too old to fight.
He would hate her for saying so, but he couldn’t move as well as he used to. Arthritis in his hips, hands and knees made him slow. There was no way he could avoid a quick swipe to his head or a blow to his body. Jackson had attempted to reassure her, promising he wouldn’t allow anything to happen, but she couldn’t stem the flow of fear that had arisen when she pictured her grandfather addressing the man who’d wronged his child.
“Have faith,” Grams had told her before they departed from the place Chloe had always called home, attempting to calm her fears. “Sometimes, when things like this happen, it’s all you can rely on.”
Sound advice. Too bad she had sensed Grams’ tension and scented the older woman’s fear. Grams hadn’t been entirely honest. It had been strange to learn she could tell the truth from a lie with something as simple as a deep breath. In a way she’d been relieved. As frazzled as Grams had been about things, Gramps had been calm as a cucumber. The only scent she could detect from him was anger. The man who’d raised her since birth had no qualms about meeting Gavin.
Fletcher Bryant was comfortable in his decision.
She’d known part of Grams’ uneasiness stemmed from the inability to attend the hunt or confront Gavin herself. But deep down Chloe also recognized her grandmother was afraid for her husband—the man she’d been with all her life. Their love was as formidable as the mating bond between werewolves. Chloe had always known if her grandmother or grandfather passed away, the other would soon follow. They had been together too long. A separation would destroy them.
A sharp burn radiated up her arm, emanating from the mark on her wrist. She inhaled raggedly and covered the area with her hand, rubbing the itchy skin.
As soon as the sun had started its retreat from the sky eerie sensations had started. At first she’d ignored the tingling burn, focusing on her family and the preparations for the evening. Jackson’s touches had become sympathetic, revealing his awareness of the changes from her mark. As the hours had passed the prickles had gone from annoying to slightly painful.
Jackson leaned in, his shoulder bumping hers.
“Easy,” he murmured, reaching down to place his hand on her leg and giving her a comforting squeeze. “It’s going to be all right. Don’t feed the tension. Fletcher’s edgy enough as is.”
Crap.
Concern about the mark on her wrist evaporated.
There were more important things to consider, such as the fate of the man who’d raised her. Gramps might as well have been driving them to meet his doom. The pack had met them at The Divide and things had gone surprisingly well. Gramps had been cordial when he’d greeted the pack members. He’d even shaken the hands of several of the men. Yet that hadn’t eradicated the forbidding feeling of disaster, as though something terrible was going to happen when they climbed into their vehicles and drove to their destination.
“Chin up, Chloe Bean.” Gramps inserted himself into the conversation. “You don’t have a single thing to be worried about. I’m going to take care of this once and for all.” Sparing her a sideways glance, he said, “It’s like ripping off a Band-Aid. Once done, it’s done.”
Only Gramps would make that kind of comparison.
Any attempt to argue would be futile. The odds of winning a debate with her guardian were slim to none. She’d learned that lesson early in childhood.
Lifting her head, she gazed out the window. They were almost at the hunting grounds—an enormous piece of private property outside Atrum Hill. It was the perfect location to enjoy the call of the wild away from prying or curious eyes.
A bonus for those who shifted forms.
Dangerous for a man who would have to rely on a shotgun for safety.
The instant they drove past the gate to the hunting grounds her senses went on full alert. She straightened in the seat, staring ahead, taking in her surroundings. With her improved vision she could see the enormous structure they approached. Receding light surrounded the cabin-like structure. It was almost dark, the sun vanishing beneath the horizon.
She thought about the full moon on the way. Excitement and apprehension sent a rush of adrenaline through her system. She could feel the wolf inside her. Each passing hour brought more of the beast to the surface. The animal wanted to break free and run through the trees, breathing in the sweet scent of pine and leaves, feeling the cold earth beneath its feet.
They drew closer and she studied numerous vehicles parked around the cabin. She recognized one in particular—the SUV Simone and her father had driven to The Wolf’s Den. Exhilaration shifted to aggression. Her heart raced, her bestial half’s howl loud in her head. This time she recognized the possessiveness—the fury—that her wolf felt. She shared the sentiment.
Jackson was hers.
She’d fight for him. Bleed for him
.
Die for him.
Warm breath caressed her ear and the very man she was determined to mark as her own whispered, “Soon, Chloe.” He released her leg and covered her hand with his, edging close so only she would hear. “We’ll be alone and your wolf can come out to play. Until then…”
A powerful surge of energy traveled up her arm and she was suddenly aware Jackson wasn’t the only one speaking to her—so was his wolf. His beast brushed against hers, compelling her feral half to heed his warning.
“You listen to me. Only me.”
The wolf within her settled, going astonishingly quiet. His power was shocking, delving into her soul and taking control. She’d never experienced anything like it. The link between them was undeniable. Maybe she should have been angry at his domination but his authority gave her peace, calming her in a way she desperately needed.
“Chloe?” her grandfather inquired, turning his head to look at her. When their gazes met she recognized the concern in his eyes. “Are you okay, Bean?”
“I’m fine.” She gave him what she hoped was a confident smile. Her guardian had enough to worry about. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t comprehend what was happening to her. He was completely human, without an animal inside him to contend with. “It’s just nerves.”
He returned his focus to the road with a loud snort. She studied his hands, noting the whiteness of his knuckles as he clenched the steering wheel. He didn’t buy her excuse. Not for a second. Memories of her childhood came rushing back. Gramps had never confronted her when she’d fibbed. He hadn’t had to. The moment she’d sensed his disapproval she’d always come clean.
She stared ahead, studying the people beside the cars and trucks. As much as she wanted to tell her grandfather the truth, she couldn’t. There was no room for her past in the present. The future waited. If she wanted to prove she was worthy of Jackson, she had to rely on herself.
Starting now.
Her wolf approved of her thinking, growling softly in her mind. She recognized the beast’s intentions. The animal had something to prove to the werewolves they were about to meet—to the pack she would soon lead—and to any female who had the nerve to challenge her for a place at her mate’s side.
They had no idea what the wolf was capable of. But they would.
Both of the men in the car wanted to protect her. What they didn’t know was her wolf had every intention of protecting them.
Chloe tilted her head and peered through her lashes at Jackson. Her gums were tingling again, her skin starting to itch. She expected to find him studying her. Instead he was staring straight ahead, eyes narrowed, glaring at the building. She followed his example and did the same. Seven men stood in front of an enormous group—including Simone’s father, Wade.
“Who are they?” she asked.
“Alphas from the area,” Jackson responded, skimming his thumb over her knuckles. “Wade apparently has diarrhea mouth. He must have told them what happened last night. They know we’re coming.”
She willed her hands to stop shaking, taking deep breaths to remain calm. Her eyes swept over a man who stood out in the group. Tall. Muscular. Short curly blond hair kissed by the last rays of the sun. Their eyes met through the windshield. Bright green irises—a color she was only too familiar with—matched hers.
Oh God.
It was him.
Time slowed to a trickle. They continued toward Gavin Worthington, his form becoming larger. No wonder Jackson had identified her biological father so quickly. Chloe might as well have been looking in a mirror. Despite being male Gavin had similar facial features, all the way down to his eyes, nose and mouth.
“Do you recognize him?” Jackson asked.
“That I do.” Gramps eased off the gas, buying them more time. She ripped her gaze from Gavin when her guardian reached for the gun wedged between the door and driver’s seat. “He knows about Chloe. Look at him. He’s waiting for her.”
“He knows,” Jackson confirmed, remaining completely calm. His fingers tightened around her hand. “I think he intends to greet her properly before the packs.”
“Good thing I brought Remington along.” Chloe could identify her grandfather’s rising anger through a scent that burned like pepper in her nose. He didn’t pull the gun out but rested his fingers on the stock. “I’ll wipe that smug smile off his face.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Jackson murmured. “Looks can be deceiving.”
Chloe didn’t want to look—afraid of what she might see—but she couldn’t stop herself. She froze as soon as she redirected her gaze to the man she’d resented as a child. Jackson was right. To those around him Gavin probably appeared confident and self-assured. To her, he seemed apprehensive.
Gavin’s green eyes darted to her grandfather and his lips thinned.
“That’s right. It’s me. You piss-poor excuse for a man,” Gramps whispered, his voice a low grumble. “Time to eat a slice of humble pie.”
“This isn’t about you, Fletcher. It’s about the future of your grandchild.” Jackson kept his tone level but Chloe knew he wasn’t fucking around. “You said you could keep a level head so do it. Don’t make this harder than it already is. You’ve only got one chance to face the packs and earn their respect. Stick to the plan.”
Her grandfather didn’t reply, stopping the truck several yards from Gavin. She flipped her hand around, clinging to Jackson’s fingers. Her heart was beating so hard she thought it would burst from her chest. When Gramps put the vehicle in park and shut off the motor she peered up at the rearview mirror. The members of Jackson’s pack drove around them, placing their cars between Gavin and the truck.
Jackson released her hand and opened his door. “Remember what I said. Stay calm. Don’t fuck around.” Glancing over his shoulder, he directed quietly, “Don’t leave my side, Chloe.”
She ticked off his earlier instructions.
Maintain eye contact. Don’t show fear. Don’t back down.
And—until their mating was officially recognized—do not speak.
Her legs felt watery when she slid from the seat and her feet landed on solid ground. Jackson was there to catch her, placing his large hands on her hips. She rested her palms on his chest, waiting until she felt steady and her nerves settled. After she was confident her balance was intact, she lowered her arms.
Doors slammed and footsteps approached. She lifted her head and saw Jackson’s pack had left their cars and surrounded them. Shane drew her attention, standing closer than the rest. Their eyes met and he gave Chloe a nod. He didn’t need to communicate with words, she got the message.
Be strong.
Wolves devoured the weak. Kill or be killed.
Declan’s sharply spoken “shit” had the pack on alert. It only took a moment to identify the source of their alarm. Gramps had closed his door and was approaching Gavin with his shotgun in hand.
If Jackson was concerned, it didn’t show. He simply wrapped his hand around hers, guided her through the people circling them and followed her grandfather at a leisurely pace. Her stomach rolled, a lemony bitterness rising to coat the back of her throat. She swallowed several times to combat nausea, keeping her head high. Her gaze swept over the men behind Gavin. Like Jackson, they revealed no emotion. She didn’t know if they were curious or angered by her grandfather’s presence.
Gramps hiked his gun and pointed it at Gavin. “Bet you didn’t expect to see me again, did you?” His hands were steady but his voice cracked, as though the strain of the years were finally taking their toll. In that moment he seemed so much older, wiser and frail.
“Mr. Bryant,” Gavin replied evenly and shifted his attention to her.
Green irises shone like blades of grass, the edges along the pupil brighter in color. She’d often wondered why Gramps had seemed sad when he looked at her sometimes, the misery in his gaze aging him beyond his years. Now she understood. He hadn’t seen his daughter when he looked at Chloe. He’d seen the man who’d
taken what he’d loved most and cast her aside.
“Don’t even think about it,” Gramps thundered. “You stay away from her.”
Gavin ignored him, staring straight at her. “Welcome home, daughter.”
The loud snap of the shotgun being pumped made her breath catch, the ground beneath her feet feeling as though it had disappeared.
No, no, no.
Gavin might as well have built his own coffin, climbed inside and instructed everyone around to start piling on the dirt. He had no idea how much pain and suffering he’d caused.
Her feet moved of their own accord, covering the distance between her and the man who’d raised her. Jackson easily kept pace, gripping her fingers. His touch reminded that he was there and she wasn’t alone.
“Fletcher Bryant is here at my request,” Jackson called out, ensuring everyone within earshot heard his declaration. “He wishes to validate my mating to the grandchild he’s reared since birth.”
The composure Gavin maintained slipped. “The hell he has.”
Gramps stopped a few feet away from Gavin, shotgun braced on his shoulder. The wind swept through his graying hair, sending strands along his temple. “Give me a reason to pull the trigger.” One smooth motion and the barrel was aimed directly at Gavin’s groin. “I’ll start here and work my way up.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Jackson quipped with a trace of humor. “Will it, Gavin?”
“A wolf with an ounce of respect would have consulted me about the mating.” Gavin’s glowing eyes landed on Jackson. “You should have come to me the moment you learned about her.”
Chloe jerked when the gun went off. The ground beside Gavin’s feet exploded, sending grass and earth scattering in the air. Everyone’s attention went to her grandfather, who carefully eased the gun up until he once again had Gavin in his sights.
“You’ve got some nerve talking about respect. You wouldn’t know the definition of the word if someone slapped you in the face with a dictionary.”
Gavin’s lips compressed, his eyes narrowing to slits. He turned his head and met Chloe’s gaze. It felt like cotton had been shoved into her mouth, making her throat agonizingly dry. She had to steel herself not to turn away or lower her eyes. Her wolf was newly born but she felt its presence. It wanted to take over and assert control. Power inched over her, cocooning her like a blanket, seeping through her skin.
