by Celia Kyle
His chuckle sent a whisper of warmth through her. “So, you think Dane looks like Thor?”
Lucy shrugged and then winced as the simple movement brought a fresh wave of pain from her leg. “A little. Now quit stalling. Who are they?”
“They’re the National Ruling Circle, headquartered in Ft. Lauderdale, Florida. Psycho’s actual name is Roman. He’s the National Alpha. Rando is Silas, Roman’s beta—the second in command, or for mafia movie buffs, his consigliere. Thor is Dane, the enforcer. Basically, he’s the head of security.”
“I don’t get it. What do they have to do with you?”
Mason scratched an eyebrow as he thought. “Let me backtrack a bit. All wolf packs have a Ruling Circle made up of an alpha, a beta and an enforcer. The alpha is sort of like the president, the beta most resembles the judiciary, and the enforcer is congress.”
Lucy couldn’t stop herself from giving him a little verbal jab. “So, you’re telling me your leaders are all incompetent nincompoops, too?”
Mason laughed, and once again, Lucy felt a comfort and ease she’d never experienced. For some reason her logical mind couldn’t fathom, his mere presence made her feel safe. Safer than she’d felt since the day her parents had died. In fact, she wanted to ask him to lie down next to her and wrap his arms around her, but she managed to control herself. Barely.
“I’d like to think we care more about our people than politicians,” Mason said when he caught his breath, “but you never really know what’s in someone’s heart.” He paused and stared deeply into her eyes. “Do you?”
The urge to invite him into her bed grew stronger. Lucy swallowed hard and pressed on, ignoring what her body demanded.
“So why are they bugging you? You’re the alpha here, right?”
Mason held her gaze a moment longer before answering. “I am, but every pack in the country falls under the purview of the National Ruling Circle. You could think of the packs as states and the NRC as the federal government.”
Lucy rolled her eyes but said nothing more.
“Roman and his men are here to investigate a false claim that someone in the Blackwood pack violated our code of conduct.”
“How do you know it’s false?”
“I just do.”
“Uh huh,” Lucy mused. “So, everyone in this house is a werewolf? Even Drew?”
“Drew is the pack healer, which is why he’s qualified to treat you.”
“He’s not just a vet?”
Mason’s smile lit her world on fire. “Nope.”
“Well, that’s a relief.” To her surprise, it was true. Almost as if she was starting to believe all this werewolf nonsense. Then another thought hit her. “Good lord, is everyone in Ashtown a werewolf? What about Miss Violet from the coffee shop?”
“As human as they come.”
Lucy smiled, happy that one of her favorite people was just like her. But that disquiet she’d been battling with surged to the surface and a thought popped into her head that made her blanch. “Wait, what about Charlie?”
What remained of Mason’s smile flitted away, replaced with a grim expression. “The Tiptons are members of my pack, including Charlie.”
“But…” She thought hard, trying to fit the puzzle pieces together. “But if Charlie is a werewolf, and he bit me, then…” She turned wild eyes on Mason, true fear pulsing through her, especially the spot the boy had bitten. “Am I going to die?”
Mason reached out and took her hand in both of his, stroking it gently. “We don’t know for sure. You’re something of a special case.”
“Why?”
“Charlie might not be your mate, but you are destined to be mated to a werewolf.”
“How do you know that? How can you be sure?”
The worry in Mason’s eyes softened to something else. Something Lucy wasn’t ready for. “Wolves know their fated mates the moment they meet,” he explained. “The connection is instant and forever, but it isn’t until they mate fully that their bond is unbreakable. I knew we were fated before I even laid eyes on you. I smelled your scent on Drew and my wolf recognized you as our mate.”
Lucy stared at him blankly for a moment. “Now what the fuck do you expect me to say to that?”
He smiled again, melting her from the inside out. She couldn’t deny she was attracted to the man. More than attracted. She was drawn to him on a cellular level. Her body yearned for him, ached for him, needed him to survive.
That’s it!
“So, if Charlie isn’t my mate—obviously—but you are, then what happens? Will… whatever you call it… mating me save my life? If so, what are we waiting for? Don’t let me die, Mason.”
“Never!” His upper lip pulled back in a snarl that in no way felt threatening to Lucy. Quite the opposite. She understood instinctively he was growling at the possibility of her death. “But it’s complicated, Lucy.”
Tears burned her eyes and she turned her face away from him. “Whatever. This is all a bunch of bullshit anyway. You’re not a werewolf and I’m not dying from some stupid bite from a little kid. I’m just hallucinating all of this. That has to be it!”
“You need proof.” Mason’s tone was cool and confident. Lucy turned back to him, ignoring the tears streaming down her face unchecked as she nodded.
Without a word, he pushed himself out of the chair and moved to the center of the room. He dragged his black t-shirt over his head, revealing the contours of his chest. A fine spray of hair dusted his pecs, but what lay under the hair had Lucy swallowing hard and fast as he unzipped his jeans. When he hooked his thumbs in the waistband, she closed her eyes—partly to give him privacy, partly to control her own wildly erratic libido.
“If you want proof, you need to open your eyes, my love.”
Gripping the bedsheets in her fists, Lucy pried open her eyes. Mason stood proud as a peacock, his entire, fantastically ripped body on full display for her.
And only her, something deep inside her growled.
Then Mason wasn’t quite Mason. He lengthened and became broader. The hair on his chest thickened and spread across his entire body. His face stretched, and before she could even blink, Mason wasn’t Mason at all.
Before her stood a giant wolf, its fur so dark it was almost black, but with a faint hint of brown—just like his hair. Fangs poked out from its snout. Sharp claws clacked on the floor as it settled into its new form. Its fluffy tail wagged. But the creature’s eyes caught Lucy’s attention. Green as a springtime field—Mason’s eyes.
Even as the room spun around her, and the world faded to black, Lucy understood in her soul that werewolves were real.
Chapter Twelve
Mason didn’t take his attention from Lucy as Drew left, the healer quietly closing the door behind him. Mason had summoned the healer the moment Lucy lost consciousness and Drew… had been less than pleased at Mason for shifting. Even now, the words continued to flutter through his mind.
“She’s fighting for her life, Mason,” Drew scolded him. “Next time you want to impress your mate, do it when she’s healthy, okay?”
Mason slumped in the chair by her bed, wishing Drew had given him a chance to explain. He’d only wanted to give her the proof she’d needed, but inside he knew the truth. He’d wanted his prove himself worthy to his mate. He’d wanted to show her his wolf and parade around for his mate.
Listening hard, he could just make out the conversation between his brothers and the NC. Kade and Gavin invited them to the main dining room for dinner, which was just fine by Mason. Roman, Silas and Dane might be his superiors, but nothing would come between him and his mate.
Lucy became restless and whined in her sleep, the sound not stopping until Mason clasped her hand. She sighed and settled just as he suspected, his touch calming her. Maybe lying next to her would ease even more of her discomfort.
Mason had slipped on his boxer briefs after returning to his human form. While he normally slept in the nude just in case he needed to shift on
the fly, he crawled under the covers with them on to keep himself from going wild with desire for his mate. He gathered her in his arms and pulled her into his body, realizing his meager efforts were futile. Her curves fit into his hard planes softly and perfectly, making his body react in an instant without restraint.
It took hours for him to fall asleep, and one dream occupied his mind all night—claiming Lucy. His exhaustion so deep from hardly any sleep, not even the sun streaming through the windows woke him the next morning. No, that honor was reserved for children squealing with delight as they ran up and down the hallways.
Mason cracked open one eye and groaned as he squinted into the brightness of the room. He’d forgotten to close the blinds the night before and while the sun seared his eye, the brightness at least gave him a good view of Lucy. They’d shifted around in their sleep until she now lay on her side within reach. A fact he’d somehow taken advantage of during the night. He’d slung his arm protectively around her waist. Her skin glowed—flushed pink in a way that reminded him of passionate nights tangled in the sheets and he went hard in an instant. Only for a soft groan to bring him back to earth and bathe him in shame for lusting after her while she fought for her life.
Mason snuggled closer, careful to keep his cock away from her tempting, heart-shaped ass. Lucy stiffened in his arms, body ramrod straight and tense. He brushed his lips across her temple and she relaxed into his embrace with a soft sigh.
“Good morning,” he whispered in her ear, enjoying the way her body shivered in response. “How are you feeling? Do you need anything?”
Her voice was scratchy with sleep. “No, but I think you might need to be committed.”
His laugh rumbled up from someplace soft and deep within him. He barely knew Lucy, but he could tell that his heart was already half hers. Maybe more than half. The simple fact they were fated mates didn’t always equate to insta-love. That developed slowly like any relationship, and Mason was thrilled he already sensed its effect on him. He couldn’t ask for more in a mate—she was beautiful, good and strong, and had a wicked sense of humor.
Pulling her closer, he enjoyed the way her body fit into his, even though she felt far too hot to the touch. His wolf even settled down, reveling in the closeness of their mate, even though the beast in him was desperate to claim her. Not yet. She was too ill.
“How did you sleep?” he asked, breathing in her scent like she was a batch of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies.
“Weirdly.” A little furrow formed between her eyebrows. “Pretty sure there was more howling, fur growing, and chasing of rabbits than usual.” Yeah, he was falling for her all right. Had already fallen. “It must have been one of the eight thousand shots Drew gave me last night.”
“Do you have any questions about what you dreamed? Such as how mates—”
“You can stop right there,” she interrupted, pulling away from him a little. “This mate stuff is just a little too….” She paused for a beat and shook her head. “I need some space to think, which is hard to do with you pressing your dick against my business.”
Mason hadn’t even been aware he’d moved. He shifted his hips backward and buried his face in the spray of her hair. “I’m sorry. I can give you space, but I’m not letting you out of my sight. You should know that up front.”
Lucy sighed dramatically. “Do I need to hit you with one of the forty-seven pillows on this bed?”
“I’d like to see you try.”
“If I had more energy, you’d see what I was capable of. I’m lethal in a pillow fight.”
Mason grinned at her sass. “Challenge accepted. As soon as you’re feeling better, that is.”
He let her deflect away from the subject of mates… for now. They had much more to discuss, including the fact that while he would happily give her “space” on the matter, he wasn’t about to let her out of his sight. Not only was she potentially deathly ill from a non-mate wolf bite, but Frank Riverson was out there, just looking for a way to hurt Mason.
Mason wrapped her in his arms, and erection or not, pulled her so close their bodies almost melded into one. She sighed and relaxed in his embrace, and they lay there for a long, luxurious moment, just breathing in each other’s scents. He was a split second away from spinning her around so he could stare at her full, luscious lips when someone knocked loudly on their door.
“Probably Drew,” Mason groaned, as he hauled his ass out of bed.
Mason dragged on his jeans, struggling to stuff his cock into the uncomfortable constraints of denim. Then a fresh scent hit him—from Lucy. It wasn’t her illness, or even the panic he’d smelled on her far too many times since their first meeting. This was sweet and pungent, full of passion. It was the smell of his mate’s desire for him. He hesitated, torn between fulfilling her desperate need and giving her space as she’d requested. The persistent knock on the door made up his mind for him.
Mating would have to wait.
Still, he couldn’t stop a smile from spreading across his face at the knowledge that Lucy wanted him as much as he wanted her. The smile fell away, though, when he opened the door and came face to face with his brothers and Drew.
“What—” he started to ask, when Charlie Tipton shoved between the men’s legs, dragging little Danny Spade behind him.
“Miss Lucy!” Charlie cried as he pushed past Mason and ran for Lucy.
Mason sighed in defeat. Clearly his alone time with his mate had come to a screeching halt. No point in barring the men from entering the room, so he threw it open and moved quickly to intercept Charlie and Danny before they could dog pile on top of Lucy. Grabbing them both by their waists, he plopped them into the chair he’d used the night before and scooted it toward the foot of the bed.
“There,” he told them, “now you two can talk to the alpha mate without getting in the way of the healer.”
Lucy gave him a sharp glance at the mention of alpha mate, but he just grinned at her. She could deny it all she wanted. He knew the truth and wasn’t about to dismiss their connection.
Without a word, Drew set to work checking on his patient while Charlie talked a mile a minute, carefully holding a squirmy Danny in his lap.
“I saw Ghost Kitty again today,” he reported to Lucy, and to her credit, she gave him all her attention. Probably better than looking at the needles Drew shoved in her veins.
“I thought she was under my porch,” Lucy said.
“Me too! She must like you. I saw her crawl under the porch of the pack house this morning.”
“Really?”
He nodded profoundly. “Yes. And she was so fat!”
Lucy chuckled, pointedly ignoring Drew’s activities. “No wonder she’s hiding from you. No lady likes to be called fat.”
Charlie’s eyes grew wide and concerned, and his bottom lip wobbled as if he might burst into tears. “Do you think I hurt her feelings?”
Lucy’s sweet smile nearly burst Mason’s heart. “I don’t think it’s anything an apology couldn’t fix.”
Without a moment’s hesitation, Charlie slid off the chair and helped his little buddy down before scuttling from the room, calling for Ghost Kitty. “You’re not fat! You’re so pretty, Ghost Kitty! Please come out and play!”
The sound of little feet pattering down the hall finally faded, and Mason turned to Drew. “How is she?”
Drew said nothing, but Mason caught the way he pursed his lips and the troubled expression in his eyes. The healer didn’t need to use words for Mason to know what he was thinking.
Not good. Not good at all.
“It’s time, Mason,” Drew said quietly.
Lucy’s alarmed gaze bounced between them. “Time? Time for what?”
“Are you sure?” Gavin asked Drew, who shrugged in response.
“No. I’ve never dealt with a situation like this before. My best guess is that she has a better chance of surviving this if Mason claims her sooner, rather than later.”
All eyes turned on Lucy
. She panicked and scooted away from them under the covers.
“Um, you know what? I’m suddenly feeling so much better. I think all I really needed was a good night’s sleep.”
“Lucy,” Mason spoke softly, trying to calm her before she freaked out.
“No!” She glared at them in turn.
Drew, Kade and Gavin all looked nervously at Mason. For the past few months, he’d been unpredictable with a constant edge of violence. He understood their concern but now that he’d found Lucy, any trace of that feral beast that had once plagued him had vanished. His only concern, from now until death, was Lucy.
“No! You guys are nuts!”
“But Lucy,” Mason said quietly, “you saw me shift last night.”
She shook her head wildly, like a little kid throwing a tantrum. “I don’t care! It was a dream!”
With a glance from Mason, the others left them alone, closing the door behind them. Dropping to his knees next to the bed, Mason reached out and cupped her burning hot cheek and hoped he could show her everything he needed to say in a single touch.
Chapter Thirteen
Lucy quivered at Mason’s touch.
Quivered.
Even as she pressed her hot cheek into the cool roughness of his palm, she cursed herself as twelve kinds of a fool. The guy was clearly off his rocker, not to mention the fact he was practically a stranger, and yet…
His effect on her was undeniable.
She’d never felt anything like it before. All her past boyfriends paled in comparison—almost faded from memory entirely. If asked, she would have been hard pressed to even remember their names, much less how they’d made her feel.
But werewolves? her logical brain insisted. It wanted her to remember that he believed he was a werewolf.
Everything that had happened since Charlie bit her was colored by the sickly glaze of infection, but Lucy knew deep down she had witnessed Mason shifting from human into a wolf. As much as she wanted to pretend she’d been dreaming—hallucinating—she knew the truth. Werewolves existed.
