by Kate Rudolph
Text copyright ©2017 by the Author.
This work was made possible by a special license through the Kindle Worlds publishing program and has not necessarily been reviewed by Lisa Ladew. All characters, scenes, events, plots and related elements appearing in the original One True Mate remain the exclusive copyrighted and/or trademarked property of Lisa Ladew, or their affiliates or licensors.
For more information on Kindle Worlds: http://www.amazon.com/kindleworlds
Foreword from Lisa Ladew
Wowsa, have you checked out Kate’s back catalogue?! I love an author who knows their niche, does it well, and explores different facets of it. The subtle trope nuances from an author well-versed in a genre can be ten times more powerful than the overt tropes from authors who are new to a genre.
That being said …. Now I must tell you what Kate thinks about Rogue. She loved her! Thought she was perfect for Mac! LOL. I think I’m touchy about Rogue lol. I am more Rogue than not and when people emailed me and said, “She’s too mean,” I just wanted to pout in the corner and shout, “LOVE HER ANYWAY! SHE NEEDS LOVE, TOO!” lol. Ok, back to reality. Oh, there goes gravity. Shit. Sorry. Ok, back to Wolf’s Hour.
Have you seen that COVER? Crap. That guy’s about to kill something big with his bare hands, then offer it up to his OTM as sacrifice. He’ll be all bloody and bruised, but still have that rigid line to his jaw, as he grates. “I love you. Love me back.” lol!
What can I say about Cam and Dom. Hot, hot, hot couple. If you like your wolf cops hot and tough, and your female otms clever and controlled, you’ll love this book. <3
Enjoy, Lisa.
Chapter One
Was it supposed to be one of those poop emoji? Cam tilted her head as she studied the freshly minted graffiti on the side of her bakery, the Thorny Rose. A mix of yellow, green, and red had congealed into something brownish and altogether gross looking. Just what she didn’t want her customers to see when they came in when she opened. One hour, three minutes, and fourteen seconds, her mind helpfully supplied. She tuned out the eerie internal timer before the countdown of seconds could drive her insane.
A second survey of the damage told her it would take forty-seven minutes to turn the turd into an indistinct brown blob. But her assistant wouldn’t be in until six and if Cam didn’t get to work in the next two minutes and forty-eight seconds, she’d run behind schedule all day. She blew out her breath, ruffling the blonde bangs she really needed to trim. But that, too, could wait. Her customers had seen graffiti before and it hadn’t scared them away. No one could stay away once they tasted her pastries. They’d face hell, high water, and vulgar impromptu artwork for a taste of her melt in your mouth danishes and pain au chocolate.
Cam snapped a picture of the wall with her phone and came around to the front of the shop. From the front door, it wasn’t that bad. The idiot kids who kept doing it hadn’t yet gone so far as to mar the front wall of her shop. If they did that, she just might stoop to murder.
With forty-five seconds to spare, she opened the door and locked it behind her. Blue Valley was a nice town, but that didn’t mean she wanted an unlocked door leaving her vulnerable to the empty early morning streets. No one had been murdered there in over a decade and Cam didn’t want to be the victim to break that streak.
You’re always catastrophizing. She could hear her aunt’s voice as clear in her mind as if she was standing beside her. But Aunt Grace had learned to deal with Cam’s quirks and still loved her despite her failures and eccentricities. If it meant that Cam checked the locks three times on some nights and had a habit of being too specific, well, that was just how some girls were.
Once inside, she threw herself into her work, shaping and baking, frosting and sprinkling. It was a cool morning, with fall threatening to cast its pall over town, but the news piping in through the radio told her to expect highs in the eighties. Cam wasn’t about to turn off her air conditioning, if not for her comfort, then for the well-being of the baked goods. The smells of cinnamon and chocolate swirled around her as the ovens heated and hinted at the mouthwatering goodness they’d produce.
Cam wiped down the counter and took a breath. She didn’t need to check the clock to know that her assistant, June, would be in soon. And with the first batches going, she had a few moments to think. This was the fourth time her shop had been covered in graffiti in the last three months. Blue Valley didn’t have gangs, so it wasn’t anyone marking their territory. But they did have a high school and she could remember from her days there that kids could be dumbasses with no respect for the people who were trying to eke out a living in town. The first time, she could forgive them and clean it up. The second time, she invested in a small, unobtrusive security camera. The third time it happened, she called the cops, but they weren’t much help. Her cheap camera had run out of memory before it could capture anything useful.
It had been a bit of a stretch, but Cam had invested in a new camera with better storage and a longer battery life. She left her pastries to cook and checked in her office. The computer took a minute to boot up, but when she pulled up the program with the footage she smiled.
Got you.
She picked up the phone and dialed the non-emergency police number. When the automated operator told her “all representatives are busy, please stay on the line” Cam gritted her teeth. June would walk through the door any minute and this needed to be under control by then. Her assistant had been the one to insist on calling the cops and every time she saw the minor defacements, she got this trembly look, like she might break apart at any minute. Cam didn’t know the full story there. Around fifty years old, June Jackson had grown up in a city far away from Blue Valley. She didn’t talk about her past, and Cam didn’t ask. But the nervousness sparked something in Cam, made her more worried than she’d normally be. So she took it seriously and looped in the police.
After four minutes and nineteen seconds, Cam hung up. She promised herself that she’d call back later. More operators would be on shift later in the morning.
She watched the security video with narrowed eyes. The timestamp said it was just after two AM, when the streets were most deserted and even the cops were asleep. There was a blur of movement and a flash of lights, and fifteen seconds later, the side of her shop was covered. But that couldn’t be right. Even the most experienced artist would need a few minutes to deface her wall.
Cam checked the playback speed to make sure everything was working correctly. Even though it said that it was, she slowed it down to four times slower than its normal speed. There, she thought, that’s better. Two people wearing bulky hoodies walked into the alleyway. They both started spraying, keeping their backs to the camera as if they knew it was there. They did their deed and walked out as if they hadn’t just committed a crime. It wasn’t much, she knew, but maybe this time the cops would take her seriously.
She picked up the phone to try the police again, but the bell over the front door rang as June let herself in. Cam closed out of the security program and set the phone back down. The cops could wait. The pastries wouldn’t.
***
Allspice tickled Dom’s nose as he walked into his favorite coffee shop. At just past seven AM, he was finally off shift and his eyelids were as heavy as boulders. At least the sun was shining. He dreaded the days in the coming winter when he would arrive after dark and leave before sunrise. He didn’t have any illusions that his citlali would take him off the night shift before then. Fuck Brenner. He didn’t dare say the words out loud. His captain had ears on every street and had long ago decided that Dom was made of piss and insubordination.
He longe
d to shift, to fight, to do anything that didn’t involve rounding up a few drunk and disorderlies or breaking up fights between humans. The night shift would be bad enough in a real city, but in Blue Valley, Oregon it was hell. There was no Khain hounding them right now, none of the great battles that the KSRT fought in Illinois. Here he was just a regular cop… who happened to shift into a wolf when the mood struck.
But with so many humans around, that mood couldn’t strike. He waited in the short line between humans dressed for office work and ordered his coffee and a bagel when he made it to the counter. Hunter’s Cup was the best coffee place in town. It was the one bright spot in Dom’s dreaded shift work. If he worked regular hours, he wouldn’t have the time to enjoy the best brewed cup in town or their great food.
But today something was off. As he took his food and drink to his table, he looked back at the counter and realized that he didn’t recognize the girl working there. She was young, probably fresh out of high school. Blue Valley was too big for Dom to recognize everyone on sight, but he knew the regulars at his local haunts. And only about half of the normal crowd was there today.
He tilted his head back and took a deep breath, sifting through the scents all around him. Coffee and sugar hung heavy in the air, almost overwhelming enough to blot out everything else. But Dom was a wolfen, so nothing as inconsequential as a little coffee was going to defeat him.
Discerning scents was almost like sifting out sounds in a cacophony. If he listened to everything, he'd drown in a sea of noise. But if he instead teased out a single thread and gave his entire focus over to it, he could understand. And so Dom ignored the coffee and the cinnamon and every other sweet scent that tried to seduce him away from his prey.
The sour note sticking to the student two tables over almost tricked him, but Dom spared the kid only a second's glance. The kid had clearly stayed up all night studying or partying and hadn't bothered to bathe. No threat.
There. Dom straightened, and if he'd been in his other body, his ears would have twitched. As it was, he froze, his whole being focused on the acrid, slightly burnt scent coming from somewhere behind the counter.
If he was human, he might have thought it was something burning in the kitchen. But Dom's senses were keen enough to tease out anything as mundane as that. No, this was something much more sinister.
He smiled.
Inside, his wolf stretched, ready to pounce. The scent of the foxen wrapped around him, teasing him, calling him to hunt. Of course, most foxen were normal citizens, not agents of Khain, but old instincts sang through his blood, and Rhen only knew what trouble those shifters were up to.
They were normal citizens, but foxen loved trouble.
Dom left his drink at the table and followed his nose toward the kitchen. When the barista eyed him warily, he detoured down the narrow hall to the bathroom and the back exit, sneaking out and circling around to the kitchen door. It was propped open with an old brick and he let himself in on silent feet. But the kitchen was tiny and no matter how deep Dom breathed, the smell of the foxen was too weak for him to find a trail.
He left the kitchen before anyone could find him and went back to his drink. But Dom's appetite had fled. He tossed the rest of his food and left, letting the puzzle of the foxen scent circle around his mind. He'd crack it. He had all the time in the world.
Chapter Two
"Are you sure we can't just go to Chili's?" Cam asked, dread crawling up her spine as she eyed the crowded sidewalk in front of High Street Bar. "They have half priced appetizers on Thursday nights."
Her best friend, Kay, rolled her eyes and slung an arm over her shoulders. At twenty-six, Kay was almost a year older than Cam, but they'd gone to high school together and been neighbors growing up. When Kay went away for college, Cam had been concerned that the friendship would fizzle, but nothing could keep Kay away from her. Or from her determination to make Cam enjoy loud, smoky bars. "It's your birthday," she said right into Cam's ear. They weren't yet inside, but it was already loud. "You deserve more than half price apps."
"My birthday was two months ago." But Kay wasn't paying attention. She waved to the bouncer and gave him a kiss on the cheek before dragging Cam in behind her. Inside, bodies pressed close and the music from invisible speakers blasted all around them, the honky-tonk twang sending people to the dance floor in droves.
Forty-nine minutes, Cam's internal clock helpfully offered when she wondered how long she'd have to endure this. She wasn't sure if that meant they'd leave by then or if she’d be drunk enough not to care. Her internal clock wasn't psychic. Not like that.
Kay detached herself and floated away, diving into the crowd towards the main bar. Cam elbowed her way in the other direction, towards the tables that ringed the edge of the dance floor. While clubs and bars in the city might not be packed at 8PM, the suburbs were a different matter entirely. They didn't dance the night away in Blue Valley. No, almost everyone, even the students from the local college, would be home by midnight. Cam's stomach growled and she hoped that Kay got them food to go with the drinks. She'd fallen asleep as soon as she got home from the bakery at three and had barely woken up in time to get ready for this little outing.
The week had turned into one giant ball of stress. On Monday afternoon, she'd finally gotten a hold of the police department. An officer had come by to take her statement, but told her that there wasn't much they could do. She'd spent most of that night getting the wall as clean as she could. On Tuesday, a rush order for a wedding cake had sent her and June into a frenzy of motion, and by Wednesday, Cam was deprived of sleep and edgy as the seconds ticked by louder and louder in her head.
When Kay called, she'd been thankful for the reprieve. Now, she questioned her sanity.
Hands found their way to Cam's hips and she froze as the beer breath of a stranger invaded her nostrils. "Hey, baby," the man slurred, "dance with me."
She wanted to jerk out of his touch, but the infernal clock in her head held her in place for three seconds. The beat of the song shifted and the man stepped with it, trying to pull her along. Cam spun forward and shot her hip out, pushing him away in a move she couldn’t have pulled off if she’d planned it, but it was all in the timing, and she never had to think about that.
He was swallowed by the crowd and disappeared. Cam put the man out of her mind. It could have been worse, she knew. He'd only put his hands on her hips. Still, she could feel the indents of his fingers and she wished she had some way to wipe the hot press of his flesh from her memory.
A few moments later, Kay was back, beers clutched in one hand and a plate of nachos balanced on the other. How she’d crossed the room without spilling anything or toppling the food was her own little gift, and far more impressive than Cam’s penchant for numbers. Before Kay even set the plate down, Cam grabbed at the food and stuffed two chips in her mouth, groaning as the fake cheese hit her tongue.
“If you’re making that noise for nachos, then I know that you need a man,” Kay said, taking a huge swig of her beer. They had to shout to be heard, but somehow it wasn’t quite as bad as it had been outside. The acoustics in High Street were weird.
Cam finished chewing and stuck her tongue out at her friend. “I don’t have time for a man, and none has ever been as satisfying as these chips.” Though that said a lot more about Cam’s unfortunate taste in men. The nachos at High Street were mediocre at best and almost cold to boot.
Kay stood next to her and gestured with her bottle. “What about that one? It’s your birthday, we should make sure you get lucky.” She pointed to a tall blond man who’d gone full cowboy, despite the fact that they lived in Oregon. He wore a cowboy hat, dirty jeans, and cowboy boots, but his skin was pale even in the dim light of the club and Cam would bet he spent his days sitting in an office, not out on the ranch.
“No thanks.”
“Hm.” Kay blew out a breath and surveyed the crowd. “I’m going to find the guy for you.”
Thirty-three minutes.
Cam chugged her beer—there was no way she was getting out of here that quickly. Not unless someone set the place on fire. “Didn’t you hear me when I said it wasn’t my birthday?” They’d been friends for fifteen years and Facebook friends since Facebook started, so how did Kay not know her birthday?
“But I wasn’t here, so it didn’t count.” She looked past Cam’s shoulder and her eyes lit up. “How do you feel about a man in uniform?”
Ambivalent? Cam didn’t say it out loud, but she couldn’t imagine anything else. None of the guys in Blue Valley did it for her. Never had.
That’s not true. She rolled her eyes as she remembered that there had been one guy. A nameless hottie who she’d danced with once and never seen again. His image had burned itself onto the back of her eyelids. Tall, dark hair, Asian, with golden skin and sinful hazel eyes that had been gold in the dim light of the bar she’d been in. He’d smelled like the woods, fresh pine needles and something a little smoky. Cam had wanted to roll around in his scent until she was drenched in it, marked by him in some primitive way. And his smile? God damn his smile had been worth it. It had been the middle of the night, but when he grinned at her, the sun could have come up and he would have blotted it out. When she had sex dreams, it was that guy she thought of. An actual birthday present, as she’d met him on the night of her twenty-second.
Logically, she knew she needed to get over him. There had never been any him to get over. But he was the most handsome man in Blue Valley, and there weren’t that many men here to begin with. One dance with a stranger shouldn’t have sent her into a three year long dry spell, but every date she went on, she compared them to that guy. She didn’t know his name, his age, or if he was even from here, but she couldn’t help looking for him in every man she met. All she needed to do was see him one more time. Then she’d get over him and move on with her life.
