by Dena Garson
He dropped the last of his mental barriers and opened his soul to her, praying she could and would accept his offering.
She gasped. “Wyatt.”
Awe replaced confusion as their mating bond snapped into place.
The warmth of her love filled that empty place in his heart. In return, he pushed everything he felt but had never been able to find words for to her through their newly formed connection. Her eyes widened then teared up with joy.
Mate.
The word echoed in both of their minds.
Love me, she whispered.
Always, he declared, then proceeded to show her with his body how much.
Epilogue
“I’m surprised your mother recovered from her cold so fast,” Isabelle told Wyatt as they slipped out onto his patio, away from the crowd.
“Me, too. She took all the herbs Grandfather brought her and didn’t complain more than once. So I guess she really wanted to be here.”
“Dinner wouldn’t have been the same without her.” She grinned. “And wasn’t Lucy beautiful tonight? Her poor mother is going to have to beat the boys away with a stick before long.”
“That’s true.”
“It’s been wonderful getting to know Lucy. She is such a sweet young woman.” She steered Wyatt into a dark corner of the porch and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Thank you for hosting the dinner tonight. I think it will be good if our two packs can form an alliance.”
“You’re welcome. I’m glad your job allows you to work remotely and that you were able to stay.”
“You don’t mind that my dad showed up without warning?”
“It was a little uncomfortable that first morning. But I can’t say as I blame him.” He pulled Isabelle closer and nuzzled her neck. “If I were lucky enough to be blessed with a beautiful daughter, I’d do the same thing if she suddenly announced she’d found her mate.”
Her knees went weak, as they always did when he kissed her on that sensitive spot below her ear.
“Thank you for—” She gasped when he flicked a thumb across her breast. “For being so patient with him while he grilled you.”
He raised his head. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten what you said, though.”
She had trouble remembering her own name whenever he kissed her much less anything else. “What’s that?”
“That you owed me an evening of sensual delights to make up for your dad’s visit.”
“Oh, I haven’t forgotten. After Dad and his entourage leave, I plan to give you something to remember for a long while.” She pulled him down and sealed her promise with a kiss.
~A LETTER FROM THE AUTHOR~
Thanks for reading Isabelle and Wyatt’s story. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed creating it.
If this is the first time you’ve picked up one of my books, thank you! I’m thrilled you did and I hope you’ll come back to my corner of the book store soon. Feel free to check out my other books at www.denagarson.com.
We have many stories in the Black Hills Wolves collection now. There’s bound to be something for everyone so be sure to pick up another and try a new author. You never know - you might find a new favorite.
Hugs!
Dena
http://www.denagarson.com
Want more Black Hills Wolves?
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Chapter One
Patch Williams didn’t believe in fate, true love, or the possibility her shift would end before her patience snapped. Tapping her fingertips on the counter, she mentally counted to ten before answering the elderly customer glaring at her from across the space provided by the glass surface. She hated this time of year due to their annual visits alone. “No, seriously, it really is fifty cents, and I can’t go lower.”
“Bah. This is a used purse. You’ll be lucky if someone gives you a quarter.” The old woman pushed the bag across the counter before spinning on one orthopedic shoe to head to the door on a wave of outraged indignity. “Come along, Darcy. We’re not giving money to her kind anyway.”
Her kind? And what kind is do you mean? The kind not willing to give away the stock for free? Or maybe the kind that bathes more than once a month? Oh, I know…the kind who could eat you if the mood took me.
Blowing out a breath, Patch closed her eyes and struggled with her annoyance as the two matronly women exited the building arm in arm. A Friday at the beginning of the month always meant some of the older people from the surrounding hills found their way down off whatever parts of the mountains they lived on—most from tiny, isolated cabins, unchanged since their ancestors came to the Wild West in search of whatever piece of land they might claim—to garner supplies, catch up with neighbors, and harass shopkeepers.
Although she recognized it for what it was—the coming snows meant they’d not be down the mountain for who knew how long, if ever, since some of them might not make it through the winter—it didn’t help her patience with them. Picking up the “used” brown purse and returning it to the rack—fifty cents for Coach and the woman expects me to go down on the price? —Patch rubbed her temples and headed to the rear of her shop.
She loved pretty things, old things, things that carried a story with each stitch or tarnish, but elderly humans were a different story. Something about the way they’d swat at her, disregard her, underestimate her…it just pushed her buttons in all the wrong ways. Behind the curtain, she stroked the leather mask she’d laid out earlier. Tonight, she would go to her club, play, and escape from the mundane world for a moment. For at least a little while, she wouldn’t be Patch, least important member of the pack and smiling customer service representative. She’d be something more. Something sexy and desired….
She sometimes feared what the pack would do if they ever discovered the full truth of her forays or caught a sniff of what she did at the private club, but not enough to stop going. As a submissive Wolf, she respected and obeyed the dictates she’d been given, even when they’d been led by a sadistic bastard, but none of it meant she had to enjoy obeying. It did mean she was wired to follow their directions, but….
What the Alpha didn’t know couldn’t hurt her.
Besides, with Ryker distracted by his new mate and Drew busy trying to keep everyone else in order, who had time to bother with a little nobody like her? The leather felt supple under her fingertips, and she wished she dared more trips to the dungeon. Her appetites never seemed sated, hadn’t for a long time. Humans were fun—they knew how to have a good time, how to make her body arch in pleasure, and when she needed a firm smack to her ass to take her to the next level—but a part of her longed for more. Especially since her pack mates had started pairing off, one by one drawn into the lure of mating. Sure, she might wish for a man who understood her and loved her…even if every Wolf she’d ever met would be disgusted by the stuff she liked in the sack.
Annoyed with her own woolgathering, she shoved aside the curtain to return to the front. Since the bell hadn’t rung, Gee standing in her shop should have sent her heart racing….
If he’d been outside, perhaps he would have been able to hide the wild, gamey scent of bear. But closed inside a building? It reeked of bear when he visited. She’d smelled him the moment he walked in. “Hiya, Gee. What can I do for you?”
She hoped her smile didn’t look as forced as it felt. Although her words were the practiced, friendly banter of a salesperson, she couldn’t quite force herself to meet his eyes. What is the purpose of being a Wolf if I don’t have a scrap of claw?
“Don’t leave town tonight.” Gee often played the part of the somewhat vague and mysterious oracle, but he usually saved that kind of shit for in his bar. Coming all the way down the street to the consignment shop to rattle off doom and gloom was beyond strange.
“I hadn’t planned on going anywhere new.” It wasn’t a lie, not exactly. She hadn’t said she planned to disobey him. However, she hadn’t agreed to his dictate either.
Hadn’t Ryker all but give
n her the go-ahead about visiting her club? Sure, he’d mentioned she should let him know if she sensed she was in true danger, but he hadn’t told her not to visit the dungeon, which was almost akin to him telling her she could go, right? Years of practice at small misdirections, that seemed obedient and should have gotten her punished but didn’t when the Alpha couldn’t be bothered to control the pack as they should, had primed her for expecting years of the same. She wasn’t important. Therefore, she might be submissive, but she sure as hell didn’t have to obey, either.
“I’m not Drew. I’m asking you, not telling you, not to leave town tonight. There’s something in the air…. I don’t trust it. None of your typical shenanigans, girl. Be smart.” Gee didn’t wait for her response.
Typical. No one bothered to ask her what she wanted, what she needed. Pack business, town business, shifter business—none of it important enough to discuss with a little submissive Wolf with no tooth or claw.
Gritting her teeth harder, she admitted to a full-blown headache growing from her irritation. She was tired of being ignored, tired of not being important enough to bother with, tired of being a submissive without a Dom. Frustration mounting and head throbbing, she decided to flip the sign to closed, lock the door, and snag a shower.
If it wasn’t smart to leave town tonight…well, unless someone bothered to stop her, fuck them. She was going out and getting her freak on, to hell with the consequences.
***
Kennedy Laurie dropped the rucksack on the floor of Ogre’s cabin. The familiar scents of home—stale beer, sweaty gym socks, and cigarette smoke, all overlaid by the pines outside—wasn’t quite the same as he remembered. Tish had made her mark, everywhere, it seemed, including in his buddy’s man cave, leaving behind something floral, no doubt in a feminine attempt to make the cabin stink less. The difference had him offering unexpected words in greeting. “I’m not staying long.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, wandering and a rollin’ stone. Too busy to visit family, friends, a lone soul, forever you may roam…. I think I’ve heard the song. Or ten versions of it. Quit your bitching and grab us both a beer out of the cooler, okay?” Ogre kicked his recliner back, obviously at home in his surroundings.
Grabbing the beers, he plopped his ass on the cooler and considered his longtime friend, more akin to brotherhood than Kennedy’s actual blood relations. “Fuck you, too, jackwad. Seriously, I’m heading north. Maybe Alaska. I’ve heard good things about Alaska.” Like there were still unclaimed miles of space there. Like a man could get lost there. He longed to get lost, to bury what he knew in miles of wilderness and pretend he wasn’t human anymore. Anything to stop the nightmares that had plagued him the last few years.
“You know men outnumber women up there? I read somewhere….”
“On the Internet? ’Cause not everything on the Internet is true, you know.”
Ogre finally gave up, flipped his chair down, and stomped over to retrieve his beer. “No, asshole, I read it in a book or something. At least I think I did.” Popping the top off the glass bottle, he flicked it at Kennedy before returning to his worn chair and reclined. “So, unless you decided you were into that sort of thing while you were over there playing in the sandbox, Alaska might not be the place for you.”
Kennedy snorted and took another swig of his own drink, enjoying the way the cold fluid refreshed and rekindled a hundred memories of sharing beers with Ogre all in one gulp. “Nope, not my thing. I still prefer women.”
However, some of the things he imagined doing to women scared him. He’d always been a sadist, he’d owned to it long before. However, he didn’t want to accidentally hurt a woman, not in a way which didn’t ultimately bring pleasure. Didn’t stop the dreams, though…and he wondered if the war had twisted him in a way so he shouldn’t be around anyone anymore, including women. Maybe especially women. “Not that I’ve touched one in longer than I care to admit.”
“Come to the club tonight. Even if you just watch, it will be a good time. Remind you why you don’t want to go get lost in the frozen north, maybe.” Ogre’s red brow arched over his steady blue eyes. “Remind you that you’re in a place where we accept you for who you are, since who you are is a smelly asshole. Remind you you’re not over there anymore, now that you’re home.”
Blinking fast, Kennedy cleared his throat and looked away. The smell of the pines, the wet cold of the mountains before snow, all of it reminded him of another man—the one he’d been before he served. Before he’d seen shit he’d never forget, and before he warped inside into someone he wasn’t sure he aspired to become.
“I’ll go, but I’m not promising I’ll stay.” Or to touch a single subbie, no matter how willing the girl might be. Until he trusted himself….
He might never trust himself again, assuming some strange woman might find it in her heart to try someday.
“We’ll have a good time. You’ll see.”
Leaning against the wall and closing his eyes, Kennedy wondered whether he still believed in a good time—or if it meant more than finding a way to forget, even for a little while.
