In Wulf’s Clothing

by B. A. Tortuga

  “It doesn’t matter. I don’t want to get in your way, either. I just want to do my job.” Cory’s fingers tapped and drummed and skated over the table.

  “Don’t worry. Your job’s safe as a nun’s hymen. Stephen likes you.” He drank the milk, letting it hit his belly with a splash.

  “He’s a good guy.”

  Wulf wasn’t sure if the implication was that he wasn’t or if Cory was just making polite small talk.

  “Yep.” Stephen was the only one here who had believed in him. Then Laurel’s people. Then his people. His own people. That thought made him stand up a little taller and grin.

  “Why clothes?” Cory asked.

  “What?”

  “Why did you end up making clothes?”

  “One, I design clothes. Incredible, fabulous, high-end amazing clothes. Two, I do it because I’m exceptional at it. It was amazing the things I learned after I got out of this place.” He’d been stifled here, and he’d hated it, but once he’d been allowed to breathe, he’d been over the moon.

  Cory shrugged. “Cool. I just wondered.”

  “No worries. I found it in Colorado, got my degree, and things just took off.”

  “That’s neat, man. Good for you.” Cory made him want to punch him, so carefully blank.

  “Yeah. It’s amazing what you can do when you’re totally fucked.” Fuck, he was out of here. He didn’t need this shit. What? He was supposed to have guilt or something? For not dying when he lost everything. “Have a good one.”

  “You know you could stop acting like I’m throwing knives at you or something. I was trying to make nice. I really was. I mean, I didn’t ask for this shit any more than you did. Fuck, I would settle for a week off where I could go to a hotel, sleep in, and maybe get a goddamn chocolate croissant once in a while.”

  “So, go. For fuck’s sake. Get in your fucking truck and go. Don’t you get frigging days off? Vacation? Something?”

  “Not until after the wedding, no. If anyone is going to pull any kind of shit, it will be while Stephen is distracted.”

  “I swear, nothing ever changes. I’ll get you a hotel somewhere for the day after. Consider it a going-away present.”

  “Uh.” Cory finally looked him in the eye. “I wouldn’t celebrate that.”

  “Cory! Oh, hey, Trey. Are there actually sandwiches?” Stephen buzzed on heading right to the fridge.

  “I don’t know.” He stared at Cory, caught. Trapped. “I’m sure there are.”

  “You didn’t look? I would swear you said you were starving an hour ago. Cory, get some food.”

  They both stayed right where they were, staring.

  Stephen looked over his shoulder, hands still in the fridge. “What? Are we having a standoff?”

  Fuck. “No. No, of course not. I have to—” Go. Breathe. Have chocolate croissants brought close enough to pick up. Jack off. Something. “—work.”

  “Oh, you can have one, you just need to tell me.”

  “Don’t be a dick, boss,” Cory snapped. “Trey, get a sandwich. Really.”

  He looked at Stephen, who held out a sandwich and grinned. “Ta da?”

  “Asshat.” He shot back.

  “Don’t make me get Laurel, brother.”

  “Man, hiding behind the little woman already,” he said.

  “I will beat you.”

  “You’ll try.” Cory’s words made both Stephen and he turned to look, and the serious way Cory watched him had him moving, running with his sandwich toward his rooms.

  Cory made him want things he shouldn’t and knowing the man wouldn’t cheer when he went back home was a dangerous thing.

  Better to just stay away as much as he could. No sense in borrowing trouble.

  Not that he wasn’t going to see if he couldn’t get fucking croissants in, dammit.

  Asshole.

  5

  Cory wanted to hit something.

  He hadn’t slept for shit, he had to be at work in an hour and all he wanted was—Trey—a coffee. A pastry, maybe. Too bad he didn’t have time to drive to freaking Albuquerque or something to get it.

  He couldn’t even get a boxed croissant at the local store.

  That Escalade was still parked at the alpha’s house, so Trey hadn’t run off, yet. Not that he’d checked last night. Twice.

  The knock on his cabin door scared the shit out of him, making him damn near drop his half and half. Which he was almost out of and needed for his fucking coffee.

  “Coming,” he growled, wondering what the fuck in general.

  Wendy, his nighttime on-call deputy was standing there, two chocolate croissants in a plastic box. “Laurel said these were for you. From Santa Fe.”

  “Oh.” He stared at them as if they were snakes, because he wanted them so bad. It had to be a trick. “How did she know?”

  “She didn’t say. She called me up to have a cup of coffee. I think she has nerves, huh?”

  “Yeah. I bet she does. It’s real now with people showing up in the canyon.” He took the box. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome, boss. I’m heading to Gracie’s. She’s making me breakfast.” Her eyes twinkled. “You see him yet?”

  “Yesterday. Did you know?” He would kick her if she had.

  “That he’s fue desterrado?” Wendy blinked at him like he was an idiot. “No. Of course I didn’t know he was coming. Asshole. Laurel told me who he was. She said to let people know that he was under their protection and no longer outcast. She says the scar’s bad, that people would know.”

  “They will. That’s good, that he’s back in the pack. If he wants to be, I mean. Which he doesn’t, I have no doubt.” Trey would toss that in their faces. Not that he didn’t deserve to if he wanted. He’d been a fucking kid, and George had really screwed that up. Goddess, he hated this whole situation.

  “I don’t know. I’d never leave here, but…” Wendy shrugged and gave him a crooked grin. “Hey, he’s famous, wealthy, and scary talented they say.”

  “Yeah?” He shook his head. “Trey always said he was going to do amazing things. I just thought—” He took a deep breath. He’d just thought he and Stephen and Laurel were friends. Why hadn’t they warned him? Told him Trey was alive and well?

  “We all did. I never knew a banished wolf could survive out there. He must be made of steel.”

  “He’s indomitable.” He grinned a little, thinking how they both thought that word was hilarious. “Butthead. But I am glad to see him, and happy for him.” He was. He would be. Cory would evince calm. That was his job. Be the law.

  “I bet he was surprised to see you, too. I think…” Wendy sighed. “Offer me a cup of coffee and let me come in?”

  “Come on. You can’t have my croissants.” Although she could. He would share and she knew it. Wendy was a good egg.

  “I got cherry turnovers waiting for me at home.” She muscled her way in and grabbed a mug, making herself a cup. “Where was I?”

  “Trey aka Wulf was surprised to see me, too.”

  “I-I don’t think that Laurel and Stephen expected him to come.” Wendy lowered her voice, like the couple in question could hear her. “I know that Laurel had a trip with her bridesmaids tentatively planned to meet in Santa Fe. She told me last night. Then, unexpectedly, he accepted their invitation.”

  “Ah.” Trust Trey to decide to come up last minute. Maybe it was to rub their noses in it, or maybe it was just curiosity. Who the hell knew? He poured more coffee, handing Wendy a cup. “Seriously, do you want some croissant?”

  “No. You should have it. He brought it for you, after all.” Wendy’s eyes were all too knowing.

  “He did?” Cory blinked. “I thought you said Laurel did.”

  “I said Laurel handed me the box. Your name is on the top. That’s not her handwriting.”

  “Oh, but.” He blinked at it. No, it was Trey’s. That crazy scrawl was just the same. Not a barista. Trey. Damn.

  Trey remembered.

  Trey
had remembered, brought them, and made sure he got them.

  Jesus. That made his stomach flip-flop. And made him grin.

  “Stop grinning like a circus monkey,” Wendy said, poking his arm.

  “I won’t get any weird hopes up,” Cory assured her. “I’m just happy he remembers. Maybe he doesn’t see me as all bad.”

  “You didn’t attack him, right? You didn’t back the alpha up.” The last wasn’t a question. Cory had been at the leading edge of the overthrow George coup.

  “No. I just— he asked me to come with him, and I stood there. George had knocked me on my ass, broken my nose and my collarbone, and I had no idea what to do.”

  “You were a kid. You were both kids. I can’t imagine how scared he was, and I know how hard it was for you.”

  “I thought it was going to kill me.” He’d wished it had at certain points, but he had a life now, a good place in the pack, and he was safe. Nothing ever happened in Lobo Canyon.

  “I can’t believe it didn’t kill him. It was meant to.” She met Cory’s gaze. “George won’t go for him, right?”

  “I don’t know. George is—” Well, Stephen had torn the bastard to shreds. He’d fucking deserved it, but he was a shadow of his former self. “If he does, it will be sneaky.”

  “Okay. I’ll watch him. The wedding’s in less than a week.”

  “Thanks, hon. I’ll keep an eye on him too, and his like-minded buddies.”

  George’s second had moved up to the far end of the canyon and kept to himself. James had turned out to be a good guy, and a decent mentor to River.

  Two of the other enforcers let Cory know—in a hundred ways every week—that they disapproved of the way things were now. He could see anyone of them but said second doing dirty deeds. In fact, most of the petty crime he dealt with day-to-day came from those guys and their families. George kept his nose pretty scrupulously clean, but Cory knew damn well the man put them up to a lot.

  “Okay. You enjoy your nummies. I’m going home to get mine.” She winked, chuckling as he hooted. His classy, delicate Wendy.

  “Have fun.” He stuck his tongue out at her, then let her out. He had just enough time to savor his croissant before he had to head in for work. Maybe he would carve out some time to stop by and thank Trey for the treat, too.

  Maybe Trey would accept it.

  6

  “Seriously? Does she need eight huge boxes of shit, brother?” Stephen looked affronted. “This is insane.”

  “It’s a wedding, Stephen. She needs all the boxes of shit. There are dresses and suits, which take up room, and she asked me to style the whole service, so I needed backdrops and ribbons and mas. Mucho mas.”

  “You are…this is… You do this for a living?”

  “Are you kidding?” Wulf looked at Stephen, horrified. “I design dresses. The rest is because I love you.”

  He would rather eat a rhinoceros than deal with worried brides. He had salespeople to do that, and Miguel occasionally hired out to do wedding planning. In fact, Miguel had done all the hard labor on Laurel’s stuff.

  “Oh. Thank God. I was concerned for your mental health.” Stephen lowered his voice to a stage whisper. “Why didn’t I pick a local girl?”

  “Because it took something the size of the Rockies to grow the most beautiful woman?” He was good at this.

  “This is true.” Stephen snorted. “And no one local would touch me for fear that George would kill their babies.”

  At the sound of the bastard’s name, a deep growl escaped Trey. “He’d best stay away from yours, though.”

  “Hey. Hey, I got this, bro. I let him live because he still had friends I needed to win over. He touches a hair on any head I love, and I will rip his fucking throat out.” The words rang with authority, with Alpha pride.

  “Good.” His arm still throbbed in the cold, and the bones hadn’t set exactly right, but no one could tell unless he was wolfy.

  “I’m sorry.” Stephen still had all this guilt that he hadn’t been there when George had banished Trey, but he hadn’t been mature enough to take the bastard down. That had been a while coming, but it had happened.

  “You did the right thing. You fought for the pack. I fought for my place, too.” He knew that now, like bone-deep.

  “You’re doing amazing. You always knew you would go out into the world.” Stephen glared at the boxes again. “Then you brought it all back with you.”

  “Yep. It’s all yours. I brought extra rhinestones, just in case I needed them.”

  Laurel made happy little squeaky noises. “More?”

  “Yep. Sparkle, sparkle.”

  Stephen rolled his eyes. “Oh, Goddess.”

  “Wait until you see her in the dress.” He smiled at his brother. “It will be worth it.”

  “It will.” Stephen reached for Laurel, and she took his hand immediately, the love between them obvious.

  Oh, that made him stupidly happy. Seriously. Stephen deserved his happily-ever-after. He was a good man, a good Alpha who genuinely cared about his pack.

  Hell, he was a good brother, working hard to keep in touch with Trey when he would have left it all behind and lost his family.

  “Okay, Laurel, let’s start opening boxes and airing things out. Your dress is already upstairs and hanging safely.” He’d put his soul into the dress—from the halter neckline to the thousands of crystals they’d hand laid.

  “I can’t wait.” She clapped her hands. “Let’s get sparkly.”

  “My cue to flee.” Stephen sidled toward the doorway, and Laurel opened her mouth to berate him, no doubt, when someone knocked.

  “Can you get it, honey?” Laurel asked, eyes fastened on the box marked bridesmaids.

  “I can!” Stephen damn near ran from the room.

  Coward.

  “He’s so cute.”

  “You know the boxes aren’t full, right? I didn’t want to crush the tulle.” He opened a box carefully. No sharp instruments with all those boxes of cloth. If someone cut a dress now, he would go on a rampage.

  “I know, dork. He’s just so determined to stay away from the glitter and stuff. He says it’s my day, and all he wants to do is see me happy and not drip goo on any suit you made for him.”

  “Smart man. Okay, we can hang them here.” He indicated a portable rack Stephen had set up.

  “Hey, who ordered lunch and snacks?” Stephen brought in a familiar paper bag with a bull logo. “Juan dropped off carne seca and venison jerky and some cheese and chile jelly.”

  “Oh damn. Carne seca…” He loved the food in Santa Fe, but he craved the meat dried here. It was the real deal, from a local carnicero—one who used fruits and spices that came naturally to the area. Juan was a genius.

  “Did you say lunch, too?” Laurel asked hopefully.

  “Mmm. Gertrude sent horno bread and soup.”

  “Oh. Oh, that’s so sweet. I’ll make sure to get her a basket of veggies.” Laurel beamed. “You hungry, Wulf?”

  “I absolutely can be.”

  “Good deal. Come on, hooligans.” Stephen looked askance at the boxes.

  “It’s mostly air, dummy,” Laurel finally said. “Who sent lunch?”

  “Cory.” Stephen glanced at him sideways. “Said it was a thank you for the pastry.”

  His heartbeat kicked up a notch, and Wulf had no doubt Laurel and Stephen could hear it. Goddess, just the sound of Cory’s name still got to him. He was an idiot.

  “I remember that he liked them, that’s all.” Right. Defend yourself first thing. Perfect.

  “Well, it looks like he liked them, then.” Stephen handed him a piece of jerky.

  Oh. His nose twitched, his mouthwatering. “Thanks, brother.”

  He snapped the meat up, telling himself that, no matter what, he couldn’t shift. Not here. It wasn’t safe.

  “I’m gonna go cut that bread,” Laurel murmured, slipping out of the room.

  Stephen took him by the shoulders staring into his eyes, w
hich calmed him right down. “I got you, bro. You’re all right. You’re okay.”

  “Sorry. Sorry, I just…you know, right?” Trey held that comforting gaze. “You know.”

  “I do. How long has it been since you ran? On the moon or otherwise?” Stephen’s tone held no recrimination. Just calm curiosity. As an Alpha, Stephen had to understand his whole pack. From the ones who shifted too much to the ones who never did. From the very young to the ancient.

  “I change every moon, but I tend to stay home. I have a balcony, a pool, a den.”

  “That’s good, though. That you change. You have any other wolves about?” Stephen eased away from him, and he felt so much better.

  “I do. I have a pack. There’s about a half-dozen of us, all banished, all driven out.” And he loved them all—from little Janey who had been pregnant with her alpha’s babies, to Miguel. All of them.

  “Wow. That many? That’s kinda cool.” Stephen helped himself to a piece of cheese. “Who’s the leader?”

  He shrugged. “I suppose it’s me? I employ everyone, make sure they’re safe and housed.”

  “Good for you. That’s a big job, no matter the size of the pack. Mmm. Oh, man, that venison is good shit. I promise not to touch your beef.”

  “You’re welcome to it. You know that.” Stephen was the Alpha. He deserved it.

  “I know, but it was a gift for you. Plus, Gertrude sent horno bread and sopa, man. I’m gonna be in heaven.”

  “When you come to me, we’ll get posole. And mole at the Plaza Cafe.” He wanted to share his home with his family.

  Stephen’s eyes went wide. “Mole at a restaurant? Dude.”

  “Right? It’s amazing—rich and spicy and dark. To die for. It has cashews.” He loved it with a passion.

  “Oh, man. Maybe for the second honeymoon.” Stephen pulled a face. “Right now, I don’t feel right leaving the pack. I need to give River a few more years.”

  “No. No, I hear you, but what’s a few more years, right? We have eons, and I will be back when the babies come.” Now he knew he could.