That didn't make Sorell happy, but it did provide some closure.
"So what brings you?" Franklin started wiggling in his arms.
"We've had several meetings and we don't want to repeat what happened before. Blindly handing over leadership of our pack to the strongest, most blood-thirsty shifter? It's a recipe for another disaster. We took a vote."
"Is it you? Congratulations!"
Stella shook her head and looked a little nervous. "No, it isn't me. The vote was unanimous. We want Felix to lead us."
Felix, who had just returned with a bottle for Franklin promptly dropped it. Luckily, it didn't break. "What? I'm not a shifter."
"No, but if you want to split shifter hairs, you aren't one-hundred-percent human, either. More importantly, you are powerful, smart, and considerate. Our pack has been through so much, first with Lucian and then with Isaac, we want stability and are willing to look beyond our normal shifter ways to find it. I don't expect an answer but I will ask you to think about it." She stood. "I'll be back in a few days. For now, we're operating as a sort of democracy, voting everything in or out. It is slower and won't last forever. Please, think about it."
Felix handed Sorell the bottle before walking Stella out. He turned it over, inserting the nipple into Franklin's hungry mouth. His incision itched, but Sorell stayed still, not wanting to disturb the baby. It was good that he was itching, Felix had told him. It meant he was healing quickly.
Felix didn't return alone.
"Conner?" Sorell was happy to see him. He'd spent every second at Pippen's side. Pippen had had to stay in the hospital longer than Sorell had, a fact that Sorell was prepared to make fun of him for the first chance he got. He was also confined to his bed at the pack house because, and these were Frannie's words exactly, "The damn fool doesn't know how to sit his pretty ass down and rest."
Pippen didn't do well on bed rest and had entertained himself by sending Conner to Sorell's house as his messenger. Pippen was just across the street and probably could have yelled through his window for Sorell to hear. But Sorell guessed he enjoyed playing with Conner as much as he liked talking to Sorell. Last time Conner had come over, his pant legs wet from the foot of snow he'd trudged through with a message that had said, "Remember that one time?"
Much to Conner's feigned annoyance, that had started an hour-long conversation relayed entirely by Conner walking back and forth between the houses. Sorell thought he should feel bad for the guy, he clearly had it good for Pippen, who was playing with him like a cat plays with a mouse, but in actuality, it was just great to have his best friend back.
This time, though, Conner didn't look like he was here with something funny to say.
"Pippen got this. He said you needed to read it."
Sorell took the paper, seeing it was a short, hand-written letter. He recognized the handwriting immediately and snarled, causing Felix to hover around him.
Pips,
Found you.
S.
"Who is that? Who is S?" Felix asked.
"Pippen's ex-boyfriend from our old pack. Oh, and also my brother."
The End
Protecting Pippen:Wolf Shifter Mpreg Romance
(Wolf's Mate Book 4)
By
Kiki Burrelli
Protecting Pippen
Copyright © 2017 by Kiki Burrelli
No part of this publication may be copied, reproduced in any format, by any means electronic or otherwise, without prior consent from the copyright owner and publisher of this book. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
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To all the fighters out there.
You might feel dangerous, because you are.
But in a badass sort of way.
Chapter One
Pippen examined the edge of his chef's knife. It gleamed in the soft overhead light of his bedroom. He saw his pale skin and hair reflected on the blade, a flash of a black iris. He liked this knife. It had uses that went beyond violence in dark alleys. This knife made people smile, made them lean back in their chairs and pat their tummies. This was the Santa Claus of knives and Pippen couldn't believe how satisfied he was to be living a life requiring him to use no other type. He slid the edge against the sharpening steel, swiping it up with a satisfying sound.
Unless, he needed to use his boning knife, or his paring knife, or if he felt like baking, his bread knife.
That wasn't to say his current life was completely without violence. The healing wound in his shoulder was proof of how much that was not true. He'd gotten shot protecting his best friend, Sorrell, who had been pregnant when his crazy ex-boyfriend, Isaac, had decided that if he couldn't have Sorell, no one could.
Pippen remembered looking into Sorell's shocked face when Isaac pulled his gun. The pain that flashed across his friend's features stood out, but the worst was the resignation right before he was almost shot. As if he had always known that at some point his happiness was going to be taken away from him. Pippen had jumped forward blocking Sorell's body from the bullet without a second thought. Unlike himself, Sorrell was innocent, a naturally good guy and he deserved every happiness.
Pippin looked away from his knife to his bedroom door right before it opened, already knowing from the outdoorsy scent who would be on the other side, but still not sure how he felt about it.
Conner stepped inside of Pippen's room, more than six feet of muscled, carefree gorgeousness and Pippen's insides flipped around like stupid, teen-aged butterflies. If he could punch himself in the stomach without seeming completely insane to Conner, then he would. Pippen had had a radically different start to life than most and because of that, he thought he looked at the world differently than the general population, but when he was around Conner he tended to act like every other schoolboy with a crush. He hated that weakness in himself and often took out that anger on Conner, who handled it like the stone-chiseled god he was. Conner walked into Pippen's room, stopping beside his bed and sitting down without permission, an infraction that would have gotten any other person in the pack house at least one object thrown at his head. Except for Frannie and Serena Ann, but she wasn't even walking yet.
"Sorell wasn't happy about that last note you had me walk over to him," Conner said, shaking the remaining snow off his head. Droplets of water fell from his glossy, dirty-blond hair and onto the carpet.
Pippen set his knife and sharpener down on the night table beside him and drew his legs up so that he sat criss-cross on the mattress. He hadn't been all that thrilled to get the cryptic letter either.
Pips,
I found you.
S.
"I didn't think he would be. What did he say?" Pippen put his hand out for the letter with which he'd sent Conner across the street. Pippen had a phone, he could have texted the information to his best friend who lived with his mate across the street and was currently learning how to live with two newborns in the house. But, if Pippen was going to live with butterflies, Conner was going to pay.
Conner shifted his body up the mattress, closer to where Pippen was. "Are you going to tell me what the letter was all about?" he asked, his permanent dimples undermining his serious tone. Conner was one of those guys who always looked like he was seconds from smiling. Pippen had spent hours wondering endlessly what it would be like to swipe his tongue across those dimples whenever he wanted to. He imagined the skin
there would be rough because Conner always seem to have a five o'clock shadow. If he rubbed his face against him, would it turn his fair skin pink?
Pippen grabbed his knife and sharpening block. "If I told you…"
Conner moved further up the bed so that he was beside Pippen. He set his large, callused hands over Pippen's paler, thinner ones, stopping them. "If you're in trouble…" Conner murmured, his words somehow quiet and at the same time, sensual. "You can tell me anything, Pippen. I'll always be here to help you." Sometimes, when Conner was caught off guard or being very honest, he let a hint of a British accent shine through. Pippen never asked him about it. He understood a man's need for secrets and besides, what if the reason was because Conner faked the accent to sound cool? That would crush his respect for him. "Besides, I read the letter already anyway."
Pippen tried pulling his hands away but found they were completely comfortable where they were, held in Conner's warm palms. "You're a horrible postmaster."
"I'm not arguing that point. Now stop changing the subject and tell me, is there an ass out there I need to kick? Are you in danger, Pippen?"
Pippen took a fortifying breath and flipped his hands to remove Conner's. He instantly regretted the loss of warmth from his touch. "There is no trouble or danger, yet. I just thought Sorell would want to know that his brother contacted me."
"Why, would that bother him?"
"Yes, he hates his brother."
"Then why is Sorell's brother contacting you?"
"Because he was the pack master of our old pack and we used to be together."
Conner stilled, his dimples almost vanished. "I'd hoped that Sorell had been lying about that part. What does your ex want now?"
Pippen swung his legs over the other side of the mattress. "Nothing or else he would have said so. I think Silas just wants me to know he knows where I am."
Conner stood. "That sounds menacing."
Pippen approached Conner and wondered if he would ever grow accustomed to people worrying about him. Usually, people worried for him.
"Don't stab anyone, Pippen."
"Mind your temper, Pippen."
"Don't hurt me, Pippen."
He rubbed his pale fingers together in his palms feeling the raised edges of his skin there. His fingers weren't the only part of him covered with scars, some thin and barely visible, others thicker, gained from his years spent perfecting his abilities.
He hadn't always been lethal. No, when he was younger, he'd been a victim, one that his piece-of-shit father had taken advantage of time and time again. His father, also former pack master of his first pack, had made money off of Pippen in the evilest ways possible.
With a mother who was either absent or looking for her next high, Pippen had suffered greatly but had also plotted. When the time was right he'd stepped aside as his father had been murdered and a new shifter, Silas, replaced him as pack master. From that moment on Pippen had made damn sure he would never be the weak victim, would never need help from anyone, not Conner or Sorell. Not anyone.
"I wouldn't worry about it," Pippen replied, allowing himself to bump into Conner on his way past. Behavior that was more reminiscent of sharks in the ocean bumping into objects to gather information, it was the only affection he'd allow himself to initiate.
"Where are you going?" Conner asked, reverting to his happy self.
"Physical therapy."
Conner stepped into the doorway and turned, blocking his path. "Your last session was last weekend."
"The doctor prescribed something else to help me get back to form."
Conner cocked his head to the side looking adorable and hot as fuck at the same time. "Where?"
"At a gym." Pippen pushed passed him, partly because he didn't want to be late and partly because he wanted to feel the shifter's strong body against his. Warm heat flashed through him.
"I'll go with you," Conner murmured when Pippen was closest to him. The fronts of their bodies pressed together. Pippen could easily lean forward and then their lips would be touching. He could make it look like an accident.
Pippen shook his head both in answer to Conner and in disgust to his own cowardly ways. "I don't require an escort."
Conner crossed his muscled arms over his broad chest. He didn't frown, but he almost didn't smile, which was frown enough. "It isn't safe," he said.
Pippen held his breath. From any other mouth a statement like that would have been infuriating. He wasn't weak. He'd been shot, sure, but thanks to his shifter genetics that wound was nearly completely healed. He only needed to get his body back to having the same range of motion and strength as it had before. But, he could definitely handle any danger that arose on his way from the pack house to the gym.
"I'll be fine."
There was also the added factor in that he didn't want Conner to see him in physical therapy. He'd blame that on a multitude of macho man shifter characteristics common to his kind but the point could be reduced to Pippen not wanting Conner to see him when he wasn't at his peak. It was important that Conner see him as capable, though Pippen would not delve into the real reasons as to why.
Conner set his warm hand on Pippen's shoulder and sighed, tiredly. "Pippen, you're strong and skilled but you are not invincible. Isaac's old pack is still in turmoil. Felix has been offered the position of pack master and that should help calm things, but I don't know if he is willing to be alpha since he isn't technically a shifter and besides that, this situation is unprecedented. It could blow up in all of our faces."
Pippen hadn't heard that the other wolf shifter pack in town, the same one that had caused his own pack so much drama, had offered the position of pack master to Pippen's pack doctor, Felix. A few months ago, Pippen would have laughed at that idea. But now that Felix had mated with Pippen's best friend, Sorell, he didn't find the idea so farfetched. For not being a shifter, Felix was extremely shifter-like, that didn't mean Pippen altogether liked the guy. He'd taken his best friend from him. That had sucked. It still sucked, but now Sorell and he were learning what being best friends looked like with Sorell's new family in the picture. Kofi and Franklin, his twins, weren't that bad at all.
"No matter, they are headquartered at that bar downtown, my gym isn't anywhere near there. Conner, I don't know how to say this any more clearly. I am fine. I know Frannie has you guarding me to make sure I stay on bed rest because she doesn't understand how fast shifters heal and if she needs a note from my doctor, I'll give her one." Pippen was only half joking. He wasn't completely sure Frannie wouldn't ask for proof. "I'm going though and you are staying here. I mean it. Do not follow me." Despite his command, Conner stayed on his heels as they walked down the hallway. Pippen slowly pulled on a winter jacket and began slipping on his shoes, an act made more difficult since he'd left them tied up. He'd shove his feet as far as he could in the damn things and walk on the heels before asking someone to help him tie the laces. He hadn't yet regained the range of motion needed to bend over and tie.
Frannie walked in from the kitchen with a steaming mug of coffee in one hand. Her curly brown hair was up in a messy bun and there was a red pen behind one ear. She was still in her pajamas and from the distant expression on her face, Pippen would guess she was either in the middle of editing a manuscript or plotting a new one. Frannie was a romance writer and the dearest friend he had who wasn't a shifter. She also owned the house that had become their pack house.
She blinked repeatedly as if pulling herself out of wherever she'd traveled in her head and back to the present. "Where are you going?" she asked sharply.
Pippen sighed. "For the last time, I'm going to physical therapy. I am a grown wolf, something you both seemed to have forgotten. I was injured. Now I am healing. I. Am. Fine. I can leave the house—alone—whenever I want. Understood?" he said quietly. Raising one's voice was a sign of weakness.
Frannie took a sip of her coffee, her narrowed chocolate brown eyes never leaving his face. "Fine."
Pippen nodded to
the both of them. "Good. See you later," he said before stepping out onto the snow-covered sidewalk.
***
Conner watched Pippen shut the door of the pack house, blocking off the light and sounds of outside. The only sound in the dark entryway was Frannie taking another sip of her coffee.
"So," Frannie began in response to nothing, "You're going to follow him? Make sure he is safe?"
"Of course I am," Conner said, smiling. He just needed to wait a few moments for Pippen to get a head start, getting caught tailing him would mean a very bad day.
"Good boy," Frannie said, continuing to her room.
After waiting a long enough time that Pippen wouldn't notice him following, Conner pulled on his boots and jacket and went to the curb. His wolf was impatient to find Pippen. It seemed these days his wolf was only content when it was in the same room as the willowy, gorgeous shifter. It wasn't Pippen's fault he looked so delicate and when he was away, Conner's wolf pawed and whined, wanting to break free and go to him.
Conner inhaled, there wasn't much wind but he could scent Pippen from miles away. Pippen's smell was as alluring as the man was, spicy and sweet; it called to him. But not from the direction of Pippen's doctor's office or the main gym in this side of town. Where was he really going?
There was so much about Pippen that Conner still didn't know, despite his best efforts to spend every moment with the other shifter. At first, he was simply an enigma. Conner prided himself on reading people, immediately and accurately, but Pippen was a mystery. He was thin, but deadly, as soft spoken as he was lethal and at the same time, loving and caring. There were times when he would hold Serena Ann, one of Christian's triplets, or one of Sorell's twins and there would be a sadness in his eyes that Conner knew would not be there if Pippen knew he was watching.
That was the one thing about Pippen that had always been clear. He wasn't weak and didn't like anything that weakened him. These weeks of recovery were probably the closest thing to torture for Pippen, and yet Conner had enjoyed every moment greatly. He doubted that—barring another gunshot wound—Pippen would ever need to rely on him as much again. And Pippen wasn't getting hurt like that a second time. So, Conner would enjoy this time.
Wolf's Mate Mpreg Romance Box Set Page 49
