“Give me a minute to get ready.” I spun my chair and wheeled across the living room, aware he’d stepped inside when I heard the door click closed. “I’m not exactly ready for company, but make yourself at home.”
“Thank you,” he said, striding over to sit on the couch and cross one leg over the other knee.
“I was being sarcastic,” I called, moving into the bedroom.
“I knew that.” But his laughter followed me.
Fifteen minutes later—a record for me getting ready to go anywhere—I’d managed to find something clean to put on and brushed my hair back into a ponytail. I’d added a little mascara and lip gloss because when I told his alpha to go to hell, I wanted to look decent doing it. My jeans hid how thin and pale my legs were, and the fitted baby-tee showed off how toned and busty I was. Highlighting my best features.
But when he opened the passenger door of his car, I balked. “No. Let’s take my car.”
He frowned. “You don’t like mine? I put the top down for you.”
“Very gracious kidnapping conditions.” I rolled up to my car and clicked my key fob. “But I need a vehicle with somewhere to put my chair. Like…you know…mine.”
“Fine, but I’m driving.” He moved toward the driver’s side.
I shook my head. “You good with hand controls? This one is set up to accommodate my worst days when my legs don’t work at all.”
“But you don’t know where you’re going.”
“You can navigate.”
Chapter Three
I realized about six seconds into the drive how absolutely cocky this was of me. I mean, sure, this Brandon guy was handsome, but there were plenty of handsome men who did overtime as serial killers.
Still, as I glanced over at him, I didn’t think there was a chance in hell he was a murderer. The glint in his eyes and his genuine smile told me he couldn’t tell a lie to save his own life.
Hopefully, my instincts would be correct.
“Turn left up here.” He pointed to an upcoming break in the tall, dignified trees lining the road.
I did as I was told, and we came to a closed iron gate with an enormous MA on the front. Gosh, they sure were proud of the name. Probably made it up themselves and everything.
There was one of those call boxes to my left, and before I could ask what to do, Brandon unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned over the steering wheel, putting his torso in my face as he pushed the button to let the window down. I inhaled deeply, not able to deny the draw of his scent. He was all woods and something like minty soap. His ribs were touching my chest, and I tried not to breathe too deeply so it didn’t seem like I was purposefully jutting my boobs in his direction.
“It’s Brandon. We have a meeting with the alpha,” he barked into the speaker and then settled back in his seat. “You all right there? I mean, last time I checked, you have to open your eyes to drive.”
My eyelids fluttered, and I realized in all my man sniffing, I’d closed them.
Shit.
“Yeah, I’m, um, really tired from all the moving and stuff.”
He huffed out a laugh, and I begged my cheeks not to heat, but they were little traitors and flamed anyway. I shifted my foot from the brake to the gas and drove ahead past the opening gates and down a long gravel drive until I reached what looked like a parking lot. Cars and trucks were parked in an orderly fashion in marked spaces, so I pointed my car in the direction of one.
“Take one of the slots over there, and we can walk the rest of the way.”
“How far?” I found I always asked how far away things were because if wherever we were going to meet the alpha was more than say ten steps away from my car, I would need my chair.
“It’s about…” He looked out the front window. “A quarter of a mile. I could carry you if you’d like.”
Mr. Dimples and Minty Soap got one hell of a stink eye for his suggestion.
“Okay, okay. Let’s get going.”
Ignoring my protests I would do it myself, he got my chair out of the back, and I watched him intently as I lowered myself into the seat. He didn’t flinch or show any signs of impatience, sighing or putting his hands on his hips like most people tended to do when they were waiting on me.
Some rolled their eyes when they thought I wasn’t looking.
“Lead the way, beta.” I tested the waters, and he gave me some side-eye.
“Not a beta yet. But a boy can dream. Come on. This way.” He walked ahead, and I appreciated his resisting the urge to offer to push me. I could almost see it in his eyes he wanted to ask. Almost everyone did.
I was not as helpless as I might appear.
But I was grateful for the smooth trail we followed. Gravel would have been an issue.
“Um…” We came upon a house, more like a mansion wanting to be a log cabin. Pretty yellow flowers spilled out of pots along the porch. Someone took good care of this place.
Not exactly the vision of a pack house I’d had in my mind.
My um referred to the dozen stairs it took to get to the front door, and Brandon ping-ponged his gaze from them to me more than once.
“If you turn me around and pull me upward, it’s easier,” I said, taking away his chance to offer. I could do a lot of things in and from my chair, but stairs would never be one of them.
“Okay.” He rushed over to me and, with more finesse than I had in my pinkie, moved me up the stairs while I held onto the armrests, hoping not to fall out and tumble down to the bottom.
In seconds, we were at the top. He opened the front door wide and ushered me in.
“Thanks.”
Brandon’s brow drew down as he rubbed the back of his neck. Oh, dear, he was confused again. My wheelchair was causing all kinds of trouble for him today. Hopefully, once this meeting was over, it would be the last time I had to deal with any pack business.
“I’m going to go get him…” He enunciated every word before rushing to the back while I sat there.
There was some muted conversation, and then, in minutes, I felt the vibrations of the floor as Brandon and a man who reminded me of drawings of Sasquatch came barreling through the house. “I don’t understand, Brandon, what is going on that I can’t meet her in my…office?”
Yeah, the last word was said after he spotted me in the chair. He also confirmed they were brothers because he had the same deadpan look as Brandon when he realized what was going on.
Sweet baby Moses in the morning, had these people never seen someone in a wheelchair?
“Sorry. With all the furniture and narrow hallways, I thought it would be best if I stayed here and tried to, you know, stay upright. You must be the alpha? I’m Wendi Walker.” I stuck out my hand like I thought a good shifter might do. After he collected himself, he walked over and shook my hand, his larger one engulfing mine. He sat in the nearest chair, and Brandon took a seat on the love seat in the corner.
“As a shifter, you should know better than to move onto our territory without warning. But Brandon said something about you being unfamiliar with our ways.”
“My parents were shifters and I am, obviously, but I haven’t shifted since I was little, and my parents weren’t in a pack, to my knowledge. They died when I was five. They were the only shifters I knew.”
“Why are you in a wheelchair?” The alpha asked, and Brandon’s eyes grew wide. Immediately, I respected the big oaf. He had the balls to ask me outright.
“Samson!” Brandon chided, but he waved him off.
“Stop your moaning, Brother. She’s a straight shooter. Aren’t you, Wendi? There’s no bullshitting with you, is there?” He looked at me the whole time he spoke, leaning over so, with his tall stature, his eyes were level with mine.
“I hate bullshit most of all,” I replied. The alpha huffed out something I interpreted as I told you so. “My parents died in a car accident and the after explosion. My wolf got me out of there by leaping out of the back seat window. I stayed there waiting for help for a long
time. By the time they found me, I was dehydrated and hypothermic. The doctor thought I injured my spine somehow with the leap, though they can’t tell me how. My wolf…” I cleared my throat. I would not get emotional in front of these people. “She hasn’t emerged since.”
He nodded and looked to his feet. “I am sorry for your loss. And you’re able to walk some?”
“I can walk a little. My legs work. But I get winded easily, and I have to take medication for my panic attacks. They make me drowsy, which adds to my lack of abilities.”
“I see. Well, while I understand you have no knowledge of pack ways, we still expect you to obey the rules while you are on our protected lands. We will consider you pack, which means you are under the protection of the Midnight Alders. I understand you are unable to shift, but we would like you to attend our meetings and runs, to show your face, if nothing else. You feel me?”
He meant to show them I had the balls to be there though I couldn't participate. I liked this guy.
“I get it.”
“Okay. Brandon is going to make sure you get home and go over the rules with you. It’s not a lot, especially since most of them have to do with hunting in your wolf form and not letting the whole world know you’re a shifter. But, clearly, you have no problem with that.”
“I understand. Thank you.”
“You seem surprised,” he said, smiling now.
“I was under the impression most alphas were real dicks,” I retorted, continuing with our no-bullshit conversation. “At least in books.”
“Well, we’re not all dicks, but I can be a dick sometimes. Give it a minute.” He winked at me.
“Can’t wait.”
He got up, chuckling, and tipped his chin at Brandon who also stood, beaming at me for some reason. After escorting me to the top of the stairs, Brandon asked me to wait while he brought my car closer. I didn’t understand why we hadn’t done that in the first place, but there it was.
He had bounded down the stairs and toward my car when someone walked up from my left. Boots stomped slowly across the wood. There was something methodical about the sound of them, as though they were greeting me first.
“Hi,” I said, trying to be nice to the blonde-haired man who had no shirt on, revealing a perfect set of abs with a tool belt around his waist, doing nothing to help keep his pants on his actual waist.
“You must be Wendi. I’m Cashel.” He leaned on one of the porch railings and took off the tool belt before wiping his hands on the thighs of his jeans. Gods above, the V-shaped muscles showing above his waistline were drool-worthy, and I swallowed to make sure I didn’t dribble all over myself.
“How did you know my name?” I asked, taking in his rugged features. He was tanned. Worked outside a lot, I would bet.
He crouched next to my chair. “Come on, a new female in town? Word gets around quickly. I hear a lot of things.”
He said nothing and reacted in no way to my chair. In fact, his green eyes seemed to gleam with something I didn’t recognize.
“I registered for school here and bought a house without knowing it was on pack lands. Had to come check in with the big guy.” I nodded my head toward the house. A wind picked up and pushed his scent into my nostrils. He was all outdoors and freshly mowed grass, making my insides stir.
“Yeah, he’s a stickler for courtesy. Hopefully, I will see you at one of the pack meetings,” he said, but at the sound of Brandon’s footsteps on the stairs, he tensed. His brow furrowed, and his shoulders tightened like knots. It wasn’t fear in his eyes but more like reservation.
“Hey, Cashel, wanna help me with this one? She’s acting like she can’t roll herself down these stairs or some shit. Lazy, if you ask me.”
Cashel, the newly frozen one, nodded, and they each took one side of my chair and carried me down to the bottom.
“It was nice to meet you, Cashel,” I called, but he had already walked away, and as I looked at the porch, he’d managed to take his tool belt as well, vanishing from sight.
We got into the car, and if Brandon had known how to use the controls, I would’ve gladly let him drive.
Chapter Four
Brandon rode beside me in silence most of the way back to my house. I expected him to hop from my car to his and leave the moment we got there, but as we traversed the main street of the small town I’d just made my home, he shook himself from his quiet and laid a hand on my arm.
“Stop here.”
It was so sudden, I hit the brakes and almost got rear-ended—hand controls needed more finesse than others, but since I’d only ever driven this type of vehicle, I had to deal with it. “What’s wrong?” Had we been about to run over a dog or cat or a person? I peered through the window but saw nothing. The driver of the car behind laid on the horn in protest at our idling in the middle of the block.
“Nothing’s wrong. Pull into the spot on the right.” He waved toward a space between two cars, and I hit the button and sat back while the car did its thing, inserting neatly into a slot tighter than I’d ever have been able to manage without the amazing electronics. “Incredible. I’ve heard about cars like this, but never seen the self-parking feature in action.”
I laughed as I used the fob to shut off the engine. “Your fancy-schmancy sports car doesn’t park itself?”
He tipped his head, looking offended. “She’s a classic. You have to use a key to open the door.”
Leaning back in the seat, I let out a sigh. “Okay, so I’m parked. What did we almost get run down by the Hummer for? What’s the huge crisis?”
“I thought you might be hungry.”
I stared at him. “For that…you had me slam on the brakes? What if the Hummer had made us a pancake?”
His rueful grin held so much charm I was having a hard time staying steamed even though a direct hit would have cost me both the car and my wheelchair stashed in the trunk. “Are you hungry?”
Before I could deny it, my stomach rumbled loudly, belying anything I might say. “A little,” I understated. “Why?”
“Because we are parked right outside the famous Pies and Tarts, a legendary dining establishment in our town. I would like to treat you to a late lunch/early dinner if you are so inclined.”
I narrowed my gaze at him. “Why the formal talk? Legendary establishment? So inclined?”
“Because my mother always told me when inviting a lady to dine, you should use your best manners.” But his gaze flittered away, and, feeling bad for embarrassing him, I kept from pointing out good manners could still be used in ordinary wordage. Besides, he was adorable.
“Well, this lady thanks you, and if you can manage to help me wrangle the chair out of the back in the six inches there, I gladly accept your invitation.”
He opened the door and went around the back, but appeared at my side in about thirty seconds. “No, go. I can’t squeeze in there, much less find room to open the hatch.”
I tried not to let my disappointment show. “It’s fine. Maybe another time. I can make a sandwich or something at home.”
“You don’t want to cook after your busy day, do you? Do you have food in the house?”
My cheeks heated. “I don’t mind cooking. I actually love it, but I don’t have a lot. Just an ice chest with a few soft drinks, some milk for coffee, and some cheese and bread. So I have sandwich makings. I can make you one if you’re not fussy.”
He opened my door and stood beside me. “I’m not fussy, and I’d gladly accept a sandwich another day, but for today, I’d like to buy you something special to our town.”
I shrugged, irritation at his lack of understanding pushing down some of my enjoyment in his company. “I’m sorry I can’t walk. But it is what it is. Get in and I’ll drive you to your car then you can take someone who doesn’t have my limitations for pie.”
One brow arched nearly to his hairline. “Are you done?”
“What?” I reeled back. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, for someone who has m
ade such great strides for independence and not let your ‘limitations’ stop you from driving a car, getting your own place, going to college, facing down my alpha—our alpha now—you certainly give up easily.”
“I never do!” I sputtered, outraged. “My aunt, the caregivers who were with me until recently all understood what I could and could not do. They never pushed me…” I swallowed hard. “Oh.”
“So the only person who ever pushed you to try new things was…?”
“Myself.” The others had seemed content to let me sit at home, take my online classes, eat the meals they brought on trays, and never walk farther than from the chair to the bed or, with care, the bathroom. “The only person who ever pushed me was myself.”
He studied my face, interest clear on his features. “Why do you think that was? Isn’t it normal to help someone try to extend their world? See if their limitations are truly so rigid?”
“I-I don’t know.” And I didn’t. “I’ve never met another like me. A shifter who doesn’t shift, who can barely walk. Do you think there are others?” And why had I never even thought of that?
“Probably, but I don’t happen to know any. But I’m not asking you to do a big push today. You said you can walk a little way. If I help you, do you think you can make it into the restaurant? We are parked right in front of it, and there’s a table available by the window.” His eyes sparkled, his hand extended toward me. “Want to try?”
I bit my lip and looked from the door of the little storefront eating place to where he stood. “I-I don’t know. I never walk around people.” That sank like a stone in my belly. “But I never really recognized that before. I…I don’t go out much.”
He wrapped his fingers around my elbow and helped me stand. “I think it’s lucky you came here, then.” Gently, he slid an arm around my waist and guided me around the car and into the restaurant. My legs wobbled a little, but I made it to the table and sat on the comfy padded seat with relief.
Survivor: A Shifter of Consequence Tale (Shifters of Consequence Book 1) Page 2
