by T. S. Joyce
What the hell? Maybe she was into drugs or something.
Another couple houses down down, and she knocked softly on the door of a small cottage with chipped paint and a sagging roof. An older woman answered the door, and Kate handed her the flask she’d taken from the bar. The woman’s wrinkled face lit up, and she gave Kate’s shoulders a big squeeze. Easing back, the woman gripped Kate’s arm with shaking, gnarled fingers as she hugged the flask to her chest with the other hand.
Dalton shook his head. She was a nurse, and she was enabling an alcoholic?
Maybe he’d pegged her wrong. Maybe she wasn’t timid at all. The facts were she had conned Blockhead out of his hard-earned money, had a sex tape with Miller McCall, the late alpha of the man-eating McCall pack, and was into a sketchy delivery service out here in the middle of the night.
His curiosity needed to end right here and right now.
Even if he was looking, which he wasn’t, Kate Hawke would make a terrible mate.
And he’d already been there, done that.
Chapter Two
Kate’s cheeks heated with pleasure as she said goodbye to Mrs. Tanner. She would do more than just get booze for her if she needed it. That woman was one of the only people she trusted outside of her family. To trust someone was a huge deal for Kate, and she could count on one hand the number of folks she had faith in.
She gave Mrs. Tanner a wave and told her, “You call me if you need any more.” Then she turned to walk back to her basement apartment. The night was quiet except for the distant drone of a truck approaching. Her boots crunched satisfyingly against the untouched snow as she made her way across the neighbors’ yards. It was better than taking the icy sidewalk.
It was the first of April, and warmer temperatures would be here soon, so she was enjoying the last of the crisp weather. She liked winter best. Summers were beautiful with all the mosses, ferns, leafy alders, and warm weather. But it also brought the bugs and the mud.
She looked up to wave politely to the passing truck because that’s what people did in Galena. It was one of the things she loved about living in a small town. Everyone knew everyone, and the nice ones formed a loose-knit web of care for each other. The greeting smile faded from her face when she saw who it was.
Darren skidded to a stop, his truck halfway in her yard. Shoot. With a gasp, she bolted for the safety of her apartment, but judging from his speed, the drunkard was motivated. “Where are you going, bitch?”
She hated that name. Hated him. He was awful to everyone. He was running now, cutting straight for her, and she yelped as he grabbed the sleeve of her coat and shook her hard enough to rattle her bones.
“You think you’re so smart, don’t you? I know what you did. It took me a minute, but I know. Fuckin’ hero.” He shoved her onto the ground and reared back to kick her.
With a squeak of terror, she curled in on herself and covered her ears, closed her eyes, elbows and knees in, just like Miller had taught her to do before he’d disappeared. Protect the vitals.
But right when she’d expected him to connect with her middle, Darren grunted in a sound that was shock and pain all at once. And when she opened one eye, he was gone. Just…gone.
Stunned, she sat up in the snow and scanned the yard. No, not gone, just way the heck over there, and he was getting his ass kicked by someone. A tall man sat straddled over Darren’s bulbous gut, pummeling his face so fast he seemed to blur. Kate stood just as the man lifted Darren off the ground like he weighed nothing at all.
She gasped. Holy crap. She’d seen strength like that before. She’d felt it.
The man’s back was to her when he chucked Darren across two yards. He landed hard on the snowy ground and slid the length of another yard. Kate stood as frozen as an ice sculpture when the man turned his face, offering only his profile. “Get inside,” he said in a gravelly voice.
Darren struggled to his feet and looked like a pissed-off bull.
Her defender looked familiar, but he wore a hat over his hair, and his face had transformed into something fearsome. Still, he resembled the stranger at the bar, the man who’d been watching that awful video Miller had posted. The damning video that had nearly ruined her life and demolished her pride.
“Move now,” the man barked as Darren charged.
“Okay,” she rushed out, bolting for the door to her basement home.
Darren was scary and a violent drunk, but this guy didn’t seem to have any problem beating the crap out of him so he was probably okay on his own. Still, Darren was a behemoth and didn’t feel much when he was drinking. She unlocked her door with a sense of panicked urgency, careful to be quiet so she didn’t wake up Mr. Harris, her landlord who lived in the main house above. He didn’t sleep well at nights—insomnia, just like her—so she tried to be considerate. Still, her keys jingled in her shaking hands and sounded loud in the quiet night. That was until Darren started cussing. The sound of fists connecting with skin scared her. That stranger was trying to help her, and he was going to get hurt on her account.
As soon as her door was open, she bolted for the small corner kitchen at the back of her one-room apartment, grabbed the first heavy object she could use as a weapon, then sprinted back up the stairs and onto the lawn. She charged the fight, but skidded to a stop as the stranger lifted Darren off the ground by his jacket and gritted out something too low for her to hear.
Darren’s face went slack, and he nodded. “Okay, man. I won’t. I’ll leave.”
The man shoved Darren away, who stumbled backward, barely managing to stay upright. Darren turned and limped to his truck without a single look back. Her protector hooked his hands on his hips as Darren revved his engine and sped off, fishtailing down the icy street as he went.
“I told you to go inside,” the man said without turning around.
I know what you are. The words were right there on her tongue, but she couldn’t bring herself to say them out loud. She’d learned the hard way monsters like him guarded their secrets. She’d only survived Miller by pretending to be naïve.
The man turned toward her, and he blinked a surprised look at the iron skillet she held above her head. “What are you doing with that?”
“I was going to save you.”
He snorted, but pursed his lips and looked off into the woods at the end of the street.
“Clearly you don’t need the help,” she murmured, lowering her weapon. “What are you doing here?”
The man cocked his head in a very animal-like gesture, and his scotch-colored eyes glinted strangely in the glow of the porch light Mr. Harris always kept on for her. He looked dangerous. Dark hair stuck out from under his navy winter hat, and his cheekbones were sharp. Even his eyes looked like they belonged on an animal. Slanted, calculating…stunning. His features were exotic, and his skin was an olive tone as though he’d been out in the sun. Perhaps he was Alaska Native.
“I’m here to apologize for…you know.”
“Watching a porno of me?”
He cleared his throat and scrunched up his face, then nodded. “Yeah, that. I didn’t ask to see it. Bart pulled it up…” The man gritted his teeth, then spat red onto the snow by his feet. Apparently he’d taken a hit. “My name is Dalton Dawson.”
A handsome name for a handsome man, but he was still dangerous. Even from across the lawn, the fine hairs all over her body had electrified at how heavy he felt. Miller had felt like that, too, only she hadn’t known any better. At the time, she hadn’t figured out he was a monster yet.
“Thank you for keeping Darren off me.” Her cheeks flushed so hot she dropped her gaze to the toe of his boot in embarrassment. “We’re even now. Apology accepted.”
“Why are you holding the skillet like that?”
Kate looked down to her stomach where she was holding it like a small shield. Because you’re a werewolf. “I don’t know.”
“Are you hurt?”
“No, I’m fine. He grabbed my jacket. Missed my meaty parts.�
�� She let off a lame, nervous laugh.
“Are you scared of me?”
Her voice would shake if she answered, so instead, she braved a glance at him and nodded her head in a jerk.
“I won’t hurt you.” His voice sounded confident, full of conviction, as if he believed he would really never hurt her.
Sadness heavy in her heart, she forced a smile. “Everyone hurts me. Have a good night, Dalton Dawson.”
She descended the five stairs to her basement apartment and opened the door.
“Kate?” he asked.
She turned slowly. “Yes?”
“Why was that man after you? What kind of trouble are you in?”
She shrugged helplessly. Darren would always be after her because she cared. “He bullied his mom for that money. She’s my neighbor. Nice lady who would give the clothes off her back in the middle of winter if somebody needed it. He takes advantage. She wouldn’t be able to pay her rent this month without that money, but Darren doesn’t worry about other people. He’s a taker. I knew he would be in the bar tonight wasting his mom’s rent money, so I won it back.”
“And then you gave it back to her in that envelope?”
He’d been watching her. Carefully, she nodded.
“And the flask?”
She inhaled slowly, then exhaled her crystallizing breath. She didn’t like answering to a stranger, but he’d saved her from Darren’s brutal boots. “Mrs. Tanner has rheumatoid arthritis, but she doesn’t like taking medicine. She says only whiskey makes her feel better. She drinks it to take the edge off, but a flask usually lasts her a couple of weeks. She’s tough.”
Dalton swallowed hard and crossed his arms over his chest. “Let me guess. She doesn’t have money for whiskey?”
Kate shook her head. “I have a good job. I can help.”
Dalton’s eyes looked darker now, more Guinness than whiskey. He made her heart pound hard in her chest, staring at her like this, trapping her with his gaze. She had to be careful with him. Miller had looked at her like this, too. Possessive, like she was his. Animals did that—collected mates like trophies. She would never be a trophy again.
Dalton sighed a long, frozen breath. He looked lethal in the dim porch light. Back straight, arms crossed, wide shoulders fighting against the fabric of his coat, long legs tensed. He could be over the yard and to her in a moment.
She waved nervously and slid in through the open door, then locked the deadbolt behind her. She fought the urge to turn on the light. He might see her silhouette through the thin curtains, and this way, she could sneak the blind open, and it wouldn’t be obvious she was spying on him.
A mixture of mortification and intrigue washed through her as she watched his profile through the slightly lifted blind. He’d seen that horrible video Miller had uploaded onto the internet, but then he’d come and protected her. Miller had never protected her from anything. He liked her hurt, but this man, Dalton, had kept Darren from kicking her, and then asked if she was hurt. And he’d seemed bothered by her admission that she was scared of him.
But he was a werewolf, and experience with Miller and his A-hole brothers said they were never to be trusted. Never.
Dalton linked his hands behind his head in the front yard. “Shit,” he muttered just loud enough for her to hear. Shaking his head, he approached her door, but before he knocked, he sat down in the snow on the top stair of her stoop.
Confused, she let the plastic blind fall back into place and stared at the door with a frown. Why was he getting comfortable like he was settling in for the night? He was probably off his rocker.
She readied for bed, all the while lost in swirling thoughts of his reasons for protecting her. Dressed in her warm pajama pants and a sweater to ward off the cold of the basement, she brushed her teeth and washed her face, then padded back to the front door out of curiosity. Steeling herself, she lifted the blind again. Dalton was still there, arms draped over his knees and staring toward the street. It was really cold out there.
It would be impossible for her to sleep tonight. Her time with Miller had done that—made her too afraid to let her body go unconscious for long—and now she would be lying in bed wondering about Dalton’s motives for sitting by her apartment in the snow.
Determined to shoo him away, she flipped on the light, then opened the door a crack. “What are you still doing here?”
“Standing guard, making sure that asshole doesn’t come back after I leave.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Apparently I have to. My…something inside of me won’t let me leave.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Hmmm.” He was very different from Miller. Dalton’s inner animal seemed protective, not brutal.
She shut the door and locked it, then pulled the thick blanket off the back of her couch and opened the door again. Hesitating only a moment, she tossed him the blanket. “If you must stay, I can’t stand the thought of you being cold.”
He held up the red quilt and nodded. “I appreciate it.” Blood was drying on his lip, and he favored his jaw when he spoke. She hoped it wasn’t broken.
She brought him a bag of frozen peas from her freezer and gestured to his mouth. “For where Darren hit you.”
Dalton stared at her for too long, but finally took the peas, held them up in a silent thank you, then pressed it onto his jaw.
But that would make him colder, so she went to work and made him a thermos of hot chocolate. She crept up the stairs carefully and set the metal mug next to him. That was as close as she’d ever been to the man, a test, but he didn’t try to grab her. He thanked her through a half-smile instead.
She closed the door again. He would probably get bored. She pulled a magazine off her coffee table and climbed the stairs again, daring to get even closer to hand it to him.
“This looks super girly,” he murmured, frowning down at her offering.
“There’s a quiz on page thirty-six about soulmates and another about the perfect nail polish color for you. I can bring you a pencil if you want.”
From here, a few stairs below, she was almost eye-level with him. He was even sexier up-close, and she was trapped again in his striking gaze.
“Invite me in,” he said low.
“You’re not a vampire,” she joked, but heat burned her cheeks when she realized how close she’d gotten to exposing just how much she knew about wolf-people like him.
“No, but you’ll fuss over me all night if I don’t come in. I won’t hurt you. I’ll watch over you tonight, then be out of your life tomorrow.”
“I have a couch.”
“I’ll keep you safe.”
Kate let off a long, shaky sigh. Safe. That sounded nice after everything that had happened over the last few years. “Swear.”
“I swear,” he said, void of hesitation.
She looked back to her partially open door, considering his offer. She didn’t feel safe when she slept, and now she was inviting a stranger into her home. Sure, he’d protected her from Darren and he was sitting in the freezing cold now watching over her, but still.
“I’m not like that video,” she said, giving him a harsh look. “If that’s what you’re looking for, you won’t find it here. That wasn’t just some one-night stand. I was in a relationship with that man.”
“A relationship with Miller McCall?” he asked, looking surprised.
“You know him?”
“Knew him. He’s dead.”
Kate gripped the slick stair railing. She’d suspected that he was dead but hadn’t known for sure. Not until now. She should feel something. Sadness, or regret, perhaps, but she didn’t feel anything but shameful relief.
Dalton watched her face, and as if he could read her every thought, he said, “He won’t hurt you ever again.”
A wave of anger washed through her. “You don’t know me. He didn’t hurt me.”
“I can hear a lie.”
He shouldn’t do that. He shouldn’t hint that he was mor
e than human. He shouldn’t have shown his strength like that in the yard either. He was going to make it impossible for her to hide that she knew what he was.
“You can sleep on my couch for one night. I have a big knife under my pillow.”
“Noted,” he said, standing too smoothly, as if he hadn’t even stiffened up in the cold. He wasn’t a careful werewolf. He should be more cautious. People in town were already suspicious. The McCalls didn’t hide well enough. They just got angry if someone figured them out. Miller hurt people who got too close to the truth.
“One night, and you have to get out of here when I leave for work in the morning.”
“Will do,” he said as he jogged down the slick steps with the balance of a mountain goat.
“And if you steal anything from me, I’ll call the police.”
“I’m not a McCall,” he said darkly as he shrugged out of his jacket.
She’d noticed in the bar how well-built he was in a gray sweater that clung to his defined chest like a second skin. That was part of the reason she’d been so mortified he’d been watching her video. He was intimidatingly handsome, and he’d been looking at her naked body, listening to her—oh, gosh.
“I have an extra toothbrush,” she blurted out to stop her descent into embarrassment again. “Not because I have people over like this, but because I just bought a new one for myself. It’s purple with sparkles.”
