His Curvy Mate (Alpha Prime Book 2)

by Georgette St. Clair

  As she got closer to the site, several of the construction workers turned to leer at her, and one yelled at her “Hey, babe, I’m offering free mustache rides!”

  The shifter security patrol ignored him. Apparently they were only on the watch for saboteurs, not douchebags.

  “Do you mix concrete for a living?” another idiot called out. “Because you’re making me hard!”

  “And I’m outta here,” she said with a wince of distaste. Seriously, had those lines ever worked on any woman in the history of humanity?

  She turned and hurried back towards the town square, and bumped into a man who was headed towards the construction site.

  Argh.

  It was Terrence. And Willy was with him. She stepped back quickly and tried to walk around them, but they moved to block her.

  They both looked at her neck.

  “Still no claiming mark,” Terence said.

  She felt a knot of tension twist in her stomach. “I’m here having lunch with Creel,” she said. “We’re meeting at the Grubstake. Would you care to join us?” She was pleased to see he flinched slightly at that.

  “He sure ain’t in no rush to let people know you’re his woman,” Willy said, a calculating gleam in his dull gray eyes.

  “Go ask him yourself. Why are you still even here?”

  “We’re picking up some construction work while we wait for Creel to get tired of pity-fucking you and throw you out on your fat ass,” Terrence sneered. “Then we’re going to grab you and take you home, and teach you a few lessons about respect along the way.”

  “Yeah, the Earth will fall into the Sun before I pretend I respect any of you losers,” she said coolly, refusing to let him see that he’d rattled her.

  Willy looked at Terrence with alarm. “The Earth’s falling into the Sun?”

  “No, you idiot.” Terrence punched him in the arm, hard. “How would she even know if it was? She ain’t no astrologomer.”

  “I’m no astronomer!” Miranda corrected, rolling her eyes. “Well, I’m off to eat lunch with my life mate. Construction sites are dangerous – hope you don’t have any nasty accidents.”

  “Oh yeah? Well…you’re a nasty accident!” Terrence spluttered angrily.

  Terrence never had been good at thinking up insults – or much of anything else, except for being a loud, obnoxious bully. That, he excelled at.

  She stepped off the sidewalk to pass them and quickly walked towards the town square.

  “Joseph says hello, by the way!” Terrence yelled after her. “Says when we bring you to him, he’s going to put you in traction for a year!”

  “Sounds kinky, but sorry, that’s really not my thing,” she called back over her shoulder, then hurried to the Grubstake, feeling queasy and shaken. The meeting house was due to be finished in two weeks. Two more weeks of those slimebags skulking around the territory. Well, at least there was an end in sight.

  Or was there? She was getting the feeling that Joseph wouldn’t give up that easily, especially if he thought there was even a chance that he could use her to find hidden treasure. He was as greedy as he was cruel.

  Chapter Eight

  Disconcerted, she looked around the Grubstake, which was packed with shifters of every species. They mostly gathered with their own packs or clans or prides, but there was some intermingling here. There was a loud buzz of conversation, and country music was playing on the radio. The restaurant felt warm and cozy, with red-and-white checked gingham curtains and matching placemats on the wooden tables.

  Someone tapped on her arm, and she turned to see Sophia, an ocelot shifter who worked as a waitress at the Grubstake. She was slender, and her shiny shoulder-length hair was brown with golden streaks.

  “Hey Miranda, Creel said to tell you that he’s outside on the veranda,” she said. “I’ll show you where he’s sitting.” She squinted at her. “What happened to your face? Is that makeup covering bruises?”

  Urgh. She hadn’t done nearly as good a job as Suki had with the makeup.

  “Yeah.” Miranda sighed. “I’m only half shifter, so it takes me longer to heal. I had a little family quarrel. My cousin wanted to drag me back home to Vermont to marry someone I hate. I resisted.” She managed a smile. “You shoulda seen the other guy.”

  “Send him my way,” Sophia said, raising an eyebrow. “I’ll serve him some delicious hot coffee. Right in the crotch.”

  “Much appreciated. I’ll keep that in mind,” Miranda said.

  Sophia was one of the people who had gone out of her way to make Miranda feel welcome whenever she came into town. Once, when Miranda had been walking by the Grubstake, a wolf shifter had tried to move in on her aggressively, knowing that she had no pack to protect her.

  He’d grabbed her by the arm and started dragging her towards his car as she yelled for help. Everyone else had ignored her, but Sophia had come running out of the store brandishing a frying pan, and the wolf shifter had slunk off.

  Sophia led Miranda out back to the veranda, which was newly built and had potted plants hanging from the latticed walls. There were plates of prime rib set on the table already, with heaps of garlic mashed potatoes next to them, and Miranda’s mouth watered. She wasn’t sure if it was from the food, or Creel, sitting there looking surly and growly and so handsome that it was just unfair.

  “Oh, this looks heavenly.” She plopped herself down on the seat and shoved a forkful of meat into her mouth. It was so tender it practically melted, and she let out a low moan of appreciation.

  “So, are you going to go out with Douglas when he deals with the Mathers pack?” Sophia asked Creel.

  “Not my day to babysit him,” Creel grunted.

  “But it is your day to be a dickhead,” Miranda said, swallowing another bite and scowling at him.

  Creel sighed. “Sweetheart, that’s every day. Ask anyone around here.”

  “Got that right,” Sophia said indignantly. “I don’t know why Douglas is friends with you.” She glanced at Miranda. “You could do much better,” she said.

  “That’s what I keep trying to tell her,” Creel said, shaking his head.

  Sophia gave Creel a look of disgust and walked away.

  “Sophia’s always been nice to me,” Miranda said. “What are the odds that you could be a little nicer to her?”

  “Not good,” Creel grunted.

  Miranda set her fork down and pushed her chair back. Creel felt a sharp twinge inside. He’d driven her away. When she’d sat down, he’d felt a warm, relaxed feeling spread through him, like the sweet burn of an excellent whiskey, and he wasn’t ready to let it go just yet. Someday soon he’d have to, but right now, he wanted to be selfish and keep her with him.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “Don’t go. Really. I want you to stay here. I’ll try to be less rude to Sophia.”

  Miranda arched an eyebrow.

  He spread his hands out in apology. “Miranda, I’m no good with people. This is me. But I will be civil to her, okay?”

  “I guess that’s the best I can hope for,” she said, and sat down at the table. She dove back into her meal with gusto.

  “Were you really going to leave?”

  She paused for a minute to chew and swallow. “Yes.”

  “Are you always this stubborn?”

  She considered the question. “Generally, I’d say I’m worse.”

  He shook his head glumly. “Lucky me. All right, I know you want to start talking your head off, so go ahead. Not saying I’m listening, but I’ll nod when you pause for breath.”

  “Awesome! So, I’ve got some ideas for holiday candles that I’m going to make at my shop. If business ever picks up.” And she was off and running, and he found himself actually listening and trying hard to stifle a smile at her enthusiasm.

  After she’d finished her lunch, she went to use the ladies’ room and to apologize to Sophia for Creel’s dickish behavior.

  She was about to head back out to the veranda, but then she saw that Br
andon Sheffield, Alpha Prime of the eastern territory, was standing there talking to Creel. Since Brandon hated her old pack, he was always rude to her, so she went back into the restroom, washed her hands a second time, and then headed out.

  Unfortunately, Brandon was headed towards the men’s room.

  He scowled as he walked by her. “Coldwater,” he snapped.

  “Miranda,” she said defiantly.

  He stopped to look at her.

  “What did you say?”

  “I said, my name is Miranda. Every time you see me, you refer to me by the name of my former pack, even though you know my actual name.”

  Brandon scoffed. “You say they’re your former pack, but I see a bunch of them crawling all over the new meeting house like vermin – and I just saw you talking to a couple of them. And there’s rumors that Joseph tried to file a motion with the human government to block the Primes from coming up here.”

  Miranda shrugged. “First I’ve heard of it, and I don’t care if you believe me or not. It’s the truth. I’m not a member of that pack anymore.”

  She knew she was overstepping her bounds talking back to an Alpha Prime like that, but she was sick of being blamed for what her former pack did.

  Brandon glared at her, radiating anger and dominance. A wave of nausea rolled over her, and she felt her lunch churning in her stomach. This would be the time to hang her head in submission and run for the hills.

  Stubbornly, she refused to budge. The nauseous feeling intensified.

  “Keep that up, and I will puke on your shoes,” she gritted out.

  Just then, Brandon’s daughter Dakota walked up, holding a chubby little male cub. The cub was Miles Junior, Miranda recalled, named after Dakota’s husband Miles Williams, the Alpha Prime of the western territory. He looked like he was two or three. She was also accompanied by a skinny little wolf shifter boy, maybe eight or ten years old, who looked nothing like her. Some kind of distant cousin, Miranda vaguely recalled. His name was John.

  “Dad, stop it, now,” Dakota snapped. “Quit being an ass.”

  Brandon stopped broadcasting power, but he gave his daughter a look of irritation. “The Coldwater pack are a gang of dirtbags.”

  “Dirtbags,” Miles Jr. repeated.

  “Well maybe that’s why she came up here. To get away from them. I recall a situation not very long ago when I had to climb out a window and take a bus cross-country to escape an unhappy home.” Dakota met his gaze boldly.

  “Nice burn,” John said to her admiringly.

  “Burn,” Miles Jr. echoed.

  Brandon raised an eyebrow. “What was that, son? You want to do how many extra hours of chores this weekend?”

  John looked wounded. “You’d punish me for appreciating your daughter’s cutting wit?”

  “All day long and twice on Tuesdays,” Brandon said shortly, and walked off.

  “I’m sorry,” Dakota said to Miranda. “My dad can be a real jackass.”

  “Jackass,” Miles Jr. repeated.

  “Oh, good lord. Do not repeat that again,” Dakota said, frowning at her son.

  “Jackass! Jackass!” Miles waved his fists.

  “You stop laughing,” Dakota said, scowling at John. She peered at Miranda. “Are you all right? Did someone hit you? You look like you have makeup covering bruises. Was it Creel? I’ll fu—” She glanced at her son, who was watching her with interest. “Fudge him up,” Dakota finished brightly.

  John snickered behind his hand. “That’s not what you were going to say.”

  “Fudge him up!” Miles Jr. echoed happily. “Fudge! Fudge!” He waved his fat little fists in glee.

  Miranda shook her head. “No, it was a couple of former pack members of mine, but Creel threw them off a cliff and broke all their bones. Thanks for the offer, though.”

  “My absolute pleasure. Really, if there’s every any problem with Creel, come to me for help. I’ve never heard of him being abusive to women, but he does have a temper, and if, you know…”

  “He wouldn’t,” Miranda said firmly. “He’s a major crabby-pants, but he would never hurt me. I’m sure of that. And you know, underneath all of it, he’s actually a really good guy. I can sense it.”

  “What kind of horrible rumors are you spreading about me?” Creel rumbled, walking up behind her.

  Damn, she hated how she didn’t have the typical shifter scent and hearing abilities. It was very hard to sneak up on most shifters…but not her. Most shifters got super-strength and enhanced senses and healing…she got the ability to talk to people who’d been murdered. Yay, an ability that made everyone think she was crazy!

  “I told everyone that you like to watch My Little Pony reruns and you wear rainbow glitter pajamas.” Miranda opened her eyes wide and smiled at him.

  He narrowed his eyes and gave her a ferocious scowl, but the emotion that he was broadcasting wasn’t anger. It was amusement. He couldn’t help himself. And she could see his lips twitching into a smile.

  “Take care of her, Creel. I mean it,” Dakota said with a low growl, and she turned and stalked off, with John trailing behind her.

  “Mean it!” Miles Jr. called back, looking over her shoulder and waving one fat little fist in a comical attempt at a threat.

  Chapter Nine

  “Who are those women getting out of the car, and why are they at my house?” Creel asked the following evening, an hour after Miranda came home from work. He was looking out the window with a scowl creasing his brow.

  “That’s my friend Suki. She works at the barbershop in Granite Flats, and she’s also a makeup artist and she volunteers at the theater group. She’s single, and she told me that the guys around here are too crude for her taste. And then there’s Hephzibah. She’s an owl shifter and—”

  Creel waved his hand to cut them off. “I’m not concerned with their life stories. I want to know why they’re here.”

  “Well, because I invited them,” Miranda said.

  “You invited them to my house?” Creel growled.

  “Sure, I wanted them to meet Hyatt and Rory.” She said that as if it were the most natural thing in the world. As if it was normal to just invite people over. To – Creel shuddered at the thought – socialize.

  He looked through the window again. “I don’t see Hyatt or Rory anywhere around here,” he said. “So they don’t need to stay here. Problem solved.” And he looked at her. “Don’t tell me that you invited them here too?”

  Miranda shoved her hands in her pockets and looked out the window at Suki and Hephzibah. “Well, it’s possible that they all think they’re coming to a cookout, and that way I can accidentally-on-purpose introduce them to each other.”

  “At my house?” Creel repeated, putting some bite into his tone.

  “Gee, I’m sorry I did a normal social thing. I guess I forgot who I was dealing with.” Miranda gave him a hurt look, which made him feel like crap. “And by the way, I also invited Douglas and Sophia. My bad, won’t happen again. You’ve got a whole bunch of venison burgers in your freezer and this morning I put some in your fridge to thaw. I will go grill for everybody outside on your fire pit, and I can tell them you’re not feeling well so you don’t have to come out and join us.”

  “Yeah, you do that,” Creel said.

  He stayed inside and skulked around the living room as she loaded up the ingredients and walked outside to greet her friends. Hyatt and Rory drove up shortly afterwards with a couple of six-packs of beer. Hyatt had also bought a basket of bread rolls.

  That had been decent of them to do. They weren’t the worst people to have around.

  He started to head towards the front door, then turned around and started pacing, feeling tension rising inside him.

  He didn’t want to make this a habit. He didn’t need people. The more you loved and trusted people, the harder they let you down. Nobody knew that better than Creel. There was a reason why he’d rather risk having his angry energy overwhelm him than take on a mate and st
art a new pack.

  He’d moved out here to get away from everyone. First the eastern territory, and then that had gotten too crowded.

  He’d thought that he could live on his own in the southern territory, but Douglas and Hyatt kept dropping by with welcome gifts and inviting him out to drink.

  Where did he have to go to live completely on his own? The moon? He had a feeling Douglas and Hyatt would find a space shuttle and show up on the doorstep of his moon pod, ready to cajole him into joining them for a night of spacesuit bouncing and Mars darts. Or something.

  He scowled, pacing faster. This was the worst time of year for him. The anniversary was coming up. It would happen in a week.

  That had been the day of the pack war five years ago; the day both his parents had been killed. He still bore the scars on his face and body. He still remembered hearing his father’s dying howl, and his mother’s shriek of rage as she hurled herself into the fray and took down half a dozen of their enemies before she died.

  As terrible as that had been, it hadn’t been the worst day of Creel’s life.

  That had come a week later, when Creel had found out, all on the same day, that his parents had died for nothing, that his pack had no honor, and that love was a lie. Yeah, that had been quite an eventful day.

  His sensitive Alpha Prime hearing picked up a burst of laughter outside. He walked over to the window and looked out.

  Miranda and Hyatt were laughing about something, and Creel felt a sudden burst of jealousy and rage so intense that he accidentally blasted Hyatt, who staggered back, pressing his hand against his forehead.

  Hyatt looked around in bewilderment. Creel forced himself to rein in his anger before he risked giving Hyatt an aneurysm.

  After a minute, Suki walked over and clinked beers with Hyatt, who said something that made her laugh. Creel felt himself relaxing. Hyatt wasn’t trying to move in on Miranda, he was just being a decent guy who liked to socialize with everybody.