by Bethany Shaw
“I’m only a paramedic, but I will do what I can,” Devon said, relief washing over him. Being part of a pack and the added safety helped settle the unease that had filled him. “We will gladly pledge our allegiances to you, and follow any rules you set.”
***
Lark finished lining the takeout box with cookies, donuts, and muffins. The morning rush had been extra brutal today. Thank goodness she always baked a little extra. It had been a long and grueling afternoon. The day wouldn’t be over until she’d picked up her sister and delivered the little bit of leftovers to the Harris Ranch. Thankfully it would be one stop. Her sister was dating the youngest Harris boy and spent most evenings at their home.
After Lark and Sarah’s parents died in a tragic accident on New Year’s Eve three years ago, it had been up to Lark to take on the parental role of her younger sister, Sarah. It had always been a dream of hers to own a bakery, and with the assistance of Rick Harris and her inheritance, it had become a reality. The Cookie Jar was her bakery, which sold cakes, cookies, pies, and muffins.
Her parents always encouraged them to follow their dreams, it seemed fitting to follow through with her goals after their death.
Lark used the glass case as a makeshift mirror, tucking her unruly blonde locks back into a ponytail. Satisfied, she grabbed the three boxes of leftovers and walked to her car.
The ten-minute drive to the Harris ranch was short and peaceful. Listening to Lana Del Rey and enjoying the quiet night air, made it the most relaxing ten minutes of the entire day.
Owning her business had its rewards and downfalls. She’d gone over this quarter’s profits last night with Rick, and felt comfortable enough to hire a few extra workers. Hopefully her days would be calmer soon.
She turned down the large gravel driveway with a sigh, perhaps one day she would be able to own an estate like this. It truly was spectacular. Acres of trees lined the property and a large pond sat behind the main house. Three other houses, set more like apartments, sat a quarter of a mile away where the majority of the residents lived. The main house was reserved for family and guests.
Lark parked in front of the manor and got out. She grabbed the three boxes of leftovers and headed to the door. She stopped in her tracks as the door opened and an unfamiliar guy stepped out.
“Hi,” Lark said, biting her lower lip, taking in the man before her. He was beyond handsome, with thick sandy blonde hair and the perfect amount of scruff adorned his set jaw. The way his shirt clung to his chest had her imagination roaming.
“Hey,” he said, after a long moment. His green-blue eyes lingered on her face, causing her to squirm uneasily. Most guys gave her the once over. Once they noticed her other assets their eyes never made it back to her face. But his eyes had yet to stray.
“Um, I’m looking for Rick, and my sister Sarah. You must be new here.” She snapped out of her daze and offered her hand to him. “I’m Lark Davies.” As she held out her hand she wondered if they’d met before. He seemed familiar. Surely she would have remembered meeting him though.
He looked at her hand for a moment before extending his hand to her. “Devon Harris,” he replied, his eyes flicking up to meet hers.
Lark stifled a gasp as his warm hand took hers and a volt of heat swept through her. Her heart beat rapidly, drumming in her ears.
“It’s nice to meet you. I own the bakery in town. Rick and my father were close friends. He’s done a lot for Sarah and I since my parents passed. I know how much you guys eat, which is why I bring all the leftovers here for you guys,” she rushed, even though he hadn’t asked. He had caught her off guard this place had become a second home to her the past few years. She usually kept her nervous rambling tendencies under wraps, but now she was blubbering like a fool.
There was a dangerous aura about him, yet instead of being threatening, it added intrigue. Something about him turned her on in a way she hadn’t ever been before.
Knowing what the Harris family was, it would be safe to assume Devon was a werewolf too. It would explain the way he carried himself. Yet, she couldn’t shake the feeling that they’d met before, something about his eyes.
“Rick’s inside,” Devon said taking a step forward, the porch light illuminating him better. His eyes, more a mossy green with blue flecks, met hers. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans, shifting on his feet. The heat of his gaze seared her to the core.
“Right, well, it was nice to meet you.” She chewed on her lower lip, and forced even breaths in, though her heart beat a mile a minute. Why did he have such an effect on her? Why did she have the feeling they’d met before?
“Have a good night,” Devon replied, stepping off the porch and walking toward the horse barn.
Blinking, she forced her feet to move forward towards the house, while chastising herself for acting like a silly schoolgirl.
The last thing she needed was a relationship. With a business and a little sister to care for, there was already enough on her plate. Willing herself not to look back, Lark strode to the front door and let herself in.
Chapter 2
Emmett slammed his fist down on the desk, grinding his teeth in frustration. “What do you mean you can’t find them?” He’d sent every able man out upon hearing of Emily’s disappearance, assuming they hadn’t gone far. Now a little over twenty-four hours later, his children still evaded him.
This was unacceptable. He awoke this morning to find out his daughter, the key to a deal with the Gulf packs, had fled in the middle of the night. Knowing his other son and the bastard he’d raised had helped her enraged him. Red flared behind his eyes.
He’d known Devon and Vincent had not been pleased with his decision regarding Emily, but they always fell in line one way or another. Emmett thought he’d made sure Devon would never go against him again. To think he’d given the ungrateful boy another chance. He wouldn’t make that mistake again.
His eldest son Daniel stood next to him, a wide gait and predatory stare on Michael, the leader of the night watch.
Michael stood in front of them. His eyes downcast, fear radiated off him causing a disgusting sweat and hazy stench to filter through the room. The rest of his crew stood behind him. The tension in the room palpable, Emmett could feel his blood pressure skyrocketing. The vein in his temple began to throb from the rage brewing inside him.
“I’m sorry sir. They’re gone,” Michael stammered.
Emmett had half a mind to strike him down instantly to make an example. If the six wolves hadn’t been needed for the immediate search, they would have already been dead. He would not lose this deal because of their insolence.
“How did none of you notice them leaving?” Emmett glared, towering over the men. His eyes flickered to each of them in turn. “What were you doing?” He demanded. A snarl ripped from his throat as he stopped in front of Michael.
Michael flinched. “No one left their posts, sir.” As the one in charge last night he had so chivalrously offered to take full responsibility.
“Then how did they escape,” Emmett growled, through gritted teeth, spittle flew from his mouth.
“I don’t know, sir.” Michael shifted his feet, eyes still submissively trained on the floor. Emmett stared a moment longer enjoying the power he held over the other wolf.
Emmett finally relented and took a step back, before he did something regretful. This was a complication that could not be discovered by the Gulf packs with their alliance so fresh.
“You’re going to find them and bring them back here. If I were you, I would not disappoint me again,” Emmett ordered. He approached the men, standing tall making sure to loom over them with his entire height. “They couldn’t have gotten far.”
Michael gave him a curt nod and backed out into the hallway his eyes never leaving the floor. “We will find them, sir.”
“Go.” Emmett slammed the door shut with a growl. The bookcase against the wall rattled and a row of books slumped over with a thud. He let out a long, sl
ow frustrated breath trying to work out the tick in his jaw.
“Where do you think they went?” Daniel asked. “We’ve searched all of Guymon.”
With a sigh, Emmett sat down at the desk. How far would Devon go? Devon’s father, Joseph, had been a friend to all. By carrying his name, certain packs would willingly take Devon in. However, some of the packs had come to fear Emmett, giving him a slight advantage in the hunt. The question was did Devon know who his own allies were?
Devon had proven resourceful on numerous occasions. In that respect, it had been a grave mistake to allow him to live as long as he had. Emmett’s weakness came down to Claire, his loving wife, and Devon’s mother. A slip up he would not make again. He’d already shown weakness once in front of some of his men for Claire, he would not do it again.
***
The sharp blare of the alarm clock jostled Devon awake. With a groan, he blinked his eyes open and scrubbed a hand over his face as he took in the surroundings of the cream-colored room. The green comforter bunched around his waist, eyes slowly adjusting to the sun filtering in through the beige curtains.
It had taken him hours to fall asleep and it had been anything but restful. Thoughts of Lark lingered with him all night. Sleep had been impossible. It irritated him that he couldn’t get her out of his head.
Devon didn’t think she had recognized him, of course, he couldn’t hold it against her. It had been years. He hadn’t exactly looked his best then either.
Not that it mattered, relationships weren’t his thing. Devon didn’t consider himself a womanizer. He had fun, but never stayed with anyone longer than a few weeks. If he’d learned one thing in life, it was that people always betrayed you. He never allowed anyone to get close to him.
“You staying in bed all day?” Vincent barreled into the room, smashing his hand down on the snooze button. “I think the whole house is awake now.”
“Sorry, long night.” Devon grimaced while sitting up.
Vincent quirked an eyebrow, and looked around the room. “Long night? I don’t see a girl here.”
Devon rolled his eyes smiling. He climbed out of bed and pulled on a black shirt.
“Or did she already sneak out? Was it that hot little blonde that brought the muffins? Cute and can cook, can’t go wrong there,” Vincent teased, still searching the room.
“There is no girl, and that’s more your style than mine,” Devon replied sobering. He didn’t like the way his little brother referred to Lark. It shouldn’t matter what Vincent said, but it did. For some unknown reason, he found himself intrigued by her. More so than any other woman before. Having his baby brother, who would sleep with just about any woman, drool all over Lark, didn’t sit well.
“Sure, but it’d probably make you in a better mood if you got laid more frequently,” Vincent taunted. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest.
“Well, I’m glad to see you’re back to your old self.” The less they talked about Lark the better.
Vincent always was a jokester, and never took anything seriously. Emmett didn’t approve of his youngest son’s antics and constantly belittled him. That was how the two started bonding. They hadn’t always been close. However, the more Vincent had come into his self and defied Emmett, the closer the two had grown. They found they had more in common than they’d realized.
Vincent would probably never know how much it meant to him to have his brother reciprocate his feelings.
“Are you kidding? I’m jealous you have the cool uncle. To think all this time you could have been living here, and you weren’t,” Vincent said. He knocked the back of his head against the doorjamb smiling. “You’ve been holding out on us, we should have left a long time ago.”
Devon shook his head and pulled on a pair of pants. He motioned for his brother to follow him as they left the room.
“We’re putting their pack at risk, Vincent. You shouldn’t take that lightly.”
“I don’t. Loosen up a little, Dev. Everything is fine. We are fine. You need to get out and have some fun.”
“Maybe you should take things a little more seriously. We’re not in the clear yet,” Devon reminded him. He still couldn’t shake the foreboding feeling curdling in his stomach. Emmett wouldn’t just let them go.
“I’m a little worried about the stipulations Rick’s going to give us. I think he’s going to make us work,” Vincent shuddered.
“The work here isn’t that bad. You might actually like the horses,” Devon chuckled, imagining Vincent trying to do any type of work.
“Wait, there are actually horses here? I thought it was just a guise like at home. The horses aren’t bothered being around us?” Vincent stopped mid step, his face horrified.
“Yes, there are actual horses here. They train and breed them. Most of the horses are born on the ranch and don’t know any different, they’ve grown accustomed to our unique scent. The business is quite lucrative.” Devon patted his brother on the shoulder. Unlike Emmett, Rick did own a horse ranch. Their old home was technically a farm, only no farming actually occurred. It was all a ruse.
“Crap, I am going to have to work.” His face fell, shoulders went lax. Despite his differences with Emmett, Vincent never had to work for anything.
Devon thought about saying something witty, but chose not to rub salt in the wound and asked, “Where are Emily and Marcus?”
“They’re already having breakfast downstairs. They spent the night together, in case you were wondering.” Vincent wagged his eyebrows suggestively.
Devon sighed and shook his head. What Emily and Marcus did was their business. They were both old enough to make their own decisions.
“And I’m sure you will be creating your own scandals soon enough.” Devon took the steps two at a time toward the kitchen. Perhaps a little loosening up might not be such a bad idea.
The scent of bacon lingered in the air, leading them straight to the kitchen. Bacon sizzled in a pan as Emily flipped some pancakes on the griddle. Devon’s stomach growled as he went to grab some plates.
Vincent took the plate Devon handed to him. “We should go into town. Abilene’s a big city with lots of beautiful women. Sure beats middle-of-nowhere Guymon.”
Devon rolled his eyes smiling. “Could we at least settle in a day or two before you go on the prowl?”
“Fine, but we do need to get a few things. In case you forgot, we didn’t bring much with us,” Vincent pointed out. He walked ahead of Devon toward the heaping buffet on the counter.
Emily turned her head, looking up from the pancakes she was setting on the counter. “Are we going out today?”
Devon nodded. There were a few things he needed to pick up.
***
Lark sealed the order of cupcakes shut and placed it on the counter. It had been a grueling week, and she was glad it was Saturday. Thankfully she had two interviews scheduled for next week. There were two part-time positions that needed filled, hopefully everything panned out.
The bakery was closed on Sundays and it was her only day off. Six days a week didn’t bother her, working twelve or more hours a day for six days took a lot out of a person.
Sundays had always been a fun day for her family. A tradition Sarah and her continued to this day. Their parents were gone but the two of them remained closely knit despite the six-year age gap. They would spend the entire day together before going to the Harris estate for dinner.
Rick Harris had been her father’s closest friend. Even after his death, the kindhearted man had gone out of his way to look out for the two of them. He even guided her with the business. She suspected Rick was lonely. His own wife had passed away years ago and his two sons Preston and Gene were all grown up even though they still lived at home.
The chime of the bell on the front door clanged alerting her that someone had come in. She walked out to the large white front counter, dusting the flour off her red apron to no avail.
“Good afternoon,” she smiled looking at th
e four patrons. Her gaze drifted to Devon, who lagged behind the other three, his eyes lingered on the murals of cakes, pies, cookies and muffins that adorned the yellow walls.
“Hi.” The brown haired guy smiled his green eyes shining, as he approached the counter. “I’m Vincent. This is Emily, Marcus, and I think you met Devon.” He pointed to each person with the introduction. His hand extended to her. “I hear you’re the lady who dropped by the house last night with those amazing muffins and cookies.”
“Yeah,” Lark smiled, shaking his hand. “I’m Lark.” It was no secret her baked goods were a hit at the ranch. Her knowledge of werewolves wasn’t much, but from what she could tell they ate a lot. She didn’t ask many questions, technically humans weren’t supposed to know werewolves existed.
“We thought we’d stop in for an afternoon snack,” Vincent said, focusing on the case of baked goods. “Now I just have to decide what to get,” he winked.
Lark smiled at him. Ironically, the man who caught her eye out of the group, lurked back by the door, arms crossed over his chest. The lack of a social life over the last few years made it hard for Lark to tell if Vincent was just overly personable or if this was his way of flirting. At the ripe old age of twenty-four, she’d lost touch with her peers. She hoped he was just being friendly.
Vincent was tall with dark brown hair and emerald colored eyes. Tall, dark and handsome, he fit the exact description of every boyfriend she’d ever had. Yet, he didn’t give her the warm tingles that a certain brooding sandy haired man in the back of the shop did. Devon looked more mature and simply appealed to her more. Vincent seemed younger than her, not as young as Sarah, but he seemed carefree.
“So, are you all staying with Rick?” she asked curiously. It had been almost a year since she’d seen a new face at the Harris ranch.
Lark flicked her gaze to Devon, leaning against the glass window next to the door. He looked even more devilish in the daylight than the night before. The black shirt he wore detailed the fine plains of his chest; dark jeans sat low on his hips.
Devon’s hazel eyes met hers and heat crept across her face, having been caught staring. Embarrassed, she bit her lip and looked away.
