by Anna Craig
They sure would be. Now, Cassie's heart suddenly started to smack hard around her ribs when Trevor appeared at the edge of the woods near the river. He'd agreed to Tamsin wanting to slightly alter the usual mating ceremony for Cassie's sake. “Yes, she is a shifter now,” Tamsin had said, calm and practical as always. “But she began as human. This is a good way to demonstrate that we are willing to embrace a change or twenty.”
Cassie's big, bad wolf shifter mate had given a little snort at that, but he'd agreed.
Now, he prowled down the small glade toward her. The light bounced off his dark hair and seemed to light his eyes from within. She knew that was more from his release from the past, though. Oh, she still had work to do on the man. He hadn't exactly turned into a chatty Cathy overnight or anything like that.
Nope. He had actually told her if she ever shared with anyone else—well, aside from Tamsin, of course—just how vulnerable their alpha was, he would have to thrash her severely.
Not that she would ever betray her mate—like, ever—but the thought of being thrashed by him had kind of turned her on. That conversation had ended on a very interesting note.
Now, watching him come toward her, Cassie felt just the littlest flush race over her skin. Her mate. Her Trevor. Her gorgeous, strong, real, vulnerable, incredible wolf shifter mate. She saw nothing and no one else as Trevor came toward her, filling her vision with only his totally swoon-worthy self. When he drew close enough to touch her, he reached out a hand to hers. Clasping it so gently despite the tremendous strength in it, he cocked one eyebrow at her.
“You are certain of this, Cassandra?” His rumbling voice spilled over the riverside, reaching the ear of everyone there. “For after today, you will indeed be officially mated to me. And to the pack.”
Cassie faced him squarely. Aware her own voice would ring out for everyone to hear, she spoke as firmly as she could. “That's all I want. For now, and forever.”
A small sigh rippled through the crowd. Cassie sensed approval, love, happiness. Okay, maybe most of that was her, but still. Nothing could ruin this day.
Until a sudden commotion at the back of the crowd made both her and Trevor turn their heads, along with everyone else.
A wolf shifter Cassie had never seen before strode down the aisle, straight toward them. Huge, brawny, dark and deadly, he arrowed directly at them with intention clear in his eyes. Cassie gaped at him, then looked at Trevor.
Trevor, however, was looking at Tamsin, his brows raised.
And Tamsin, her expression impossible to figure out, was staring at the wolf approaching, who only had eyes for her.
Then entire crowd fell silent, mouths dropping all over the place. Only the soft burble of the river accompanied the stranger's footsteps.
When the strange wolf reached them, he paused briefly before Trevor, nodding once and saying in a deep bass voice, “My apologies, alpha. And you,” he looked at Cassie. “You must be Cassandra. I'm pleased to be able to make it to your wedding day.”
Um, who the hell was he?
Before she could answer, the wolf looked at Tamsin. He started to open his mouth—and she stepped forward, reached out with her hand, and slapped him so hard his head rocked back.
Cassie and half the audience gasped. The wolf didn't do anything except rub his cheek, staring at Tamsin with intense green eyes. He just shrugged and said, “Maybe I deserved that.” Then he moved behind Trevor into the best man spot.
Tamsin glared at him, then looked at Cassie. “Sorry,” she said as she stepped back to her own place. But she kept shooting little glares at the other wolf, whose cheek now had a nice red mark on it.
Then everyone looked at Trevor. He simply snorted, then said, “Welcome back, Jackson. Might I now proceed with wedding my mate?”
Cassie almost giggled at his tone. And now she recognized the name. Jackson. Trevor's beta, or second in command of the pack. Hmm. She'd have to be asking Tamsin later what was up, because there definitely was some big time history there. But in the meantime....
She looked back at her mate. Trevor smiled at her. A genuine smile that lit her up inside and made her heart beat faster. “Are you ready, love?” he asked, his voice soft but one hundred percent certain.
Cassie nodded. “Oh, yes. Definitely. Come on, let's make it official. Love,” she echoed, feeling her entire face practically about to break because she was smiling so huge.
She kept looking at him, her entire body thrumming with the wild knowledge of who she was, and how crazy lucky she was. Because she, Cassandra Wakefield, was the one thing she never, ever in a million years had dreamed she would be: a badass wolf shifter mated to the most incredible, sexy, badass alpha of the pack.
“Yes. Let us make it official, mate,” Trevor said back to her, holding her hand tightly, and they both stood together as they were married and mated, now and forevermore.
the end
What's up next for the Wicked Wolf Shifters? Tamsin and Jackson's story starts in Ruled by the Pack.
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Ruled by the Pack: Wicked Wolf Shifters 5
teaser preview
Jackson Rule reached up to touch his cheek. It stung like a bitch. Little vixen had claws, and she hadn't been afraid to use them. No wonder his face still stung. She'd smacked him with what seemed like every ounce of her strength. At least she hadn't literally clawed out his eyes. He rather liked having his vision.
Glancing around the enormous ballroom decorated to festive overload, pretending not to be looking for the saucy wench, his gaze swept over the throngs of laughing, merry guests. The excessively joyous mood in the room was something he found both intriguing and slightly nauseating. His alpha was mated and married now, and by all accounts just as excessively joyful as the mood here. Not that Jackson begrudged his pack's leader, and his own best friend, that sort of joy. Trevor more than deserved it after his decades of tightly bottled grief.
It was just the general concept of mated joy that made Jackson a bit—fidgety. The word “mate” did not go with Jackson Rule, and never would. Not if he had his way. He damn well enjoyed being a wolf endlessly on the prowl for a good time.
Ruefully, he touched his cheek again. Being on the prowl for a good time apparently was what had earned him that resounding slap earlier. It had been delivered in front of the entire pack and a multitude of guests, as well. Quite the welcome home, and from a she-wolf he'd always considered a part of his inner circle. A very trusted packmate, if not exactly a close friend.
Jackson wasn't friends with women. Not real friends. How did one do that, when women were all soft and pretty and sexy and much too fascinating, so much so that he always got distracted around them? He couldn't have a real conversation with a woman. It always ended up being a far more physical conversation. As it should be.
Well, except for this one particular woman. He'd always managed to talk to her easily, since there was no diverting undercurrent of animal attraction between them. Until now. And he still wasn't quite sure how he'd managed to so thoroughly enrage her, especially since he hadn't even been here for two weeks.
I've never even kissed the woman, he thought, simultaneously intrigued and mystified by that very fact. Every other woman in the world he'd ever pissed off, he'd always kissed first. That at least gave them a reason to hate him.
This one? Not even once had his lips touched hers. Not for lack of his recent, unquenchable desire to do just that. Only a lifetime of understanding that this particular she-wolf was beyond off-limits, not to mention his own utter surprise at the situation, had kept him from acting on his suddenly raging hormones around her.
Casually, he allowed himself to glance over yet again at the vixen in question. She was making her rounds of the room, looking exactly like a cat in heat. A furious, beautiful cat, but definitely a cat in heat. Not that he would ever say something like that to her. Co
mparing the delicious, deadly sister of an alpha wolf to a cat was something that would definitely would get his eyes clawed out. First she'd slice open his face, then her brother the alpha would disembowel Jackson on the spot.
Nope. Keeping this sweet vixen at a distance was more than smart. It was his only option.
Right then, the sweet vixen in question swung her head and caught him looking at her. Gorgeous eyes narrowing, Tamsin Reginald glared daggers at him. Her expression was so fierce that if looks could kill, he'd be dead where he stood.
Without thinking, Jackson gave her his famous half-grin, the one that had been known to melt the panties off of women from just that one look.
Nope. Didn't work on Tamsin. If anything, he now could practically feel his skin peel from the blistering heat of her gaze.
"Earth to Jackson. The bendy-twisty redhead on the beach? Finish telling us about her." The speaker gave a lascivious grin as he elbowed his companion. “Sounds like she was very talented.”
Jackson looked back at Mac and Finn, automatically laughing with them as he continued their conversation with all the casualness he definitely was not feeling. “She was hot. Hot, willing, and naked on the white sand beaches under the full moon. How was I supposed to say no to that? I have a reputation to uphold after all.”
His reputation had ensured long, lazy days lying on the pristine white beaches of the private island his alpha had sent him to, followed by wild nights of the debauchery for which he was famed. He'd fully lived up to the legend of Jackson Rule in full swing. The shifter groupies had bombarded him on the island, vying for his attentions with the sort of eagerness that a mere month ago he would've found completely fulfilling and satisfying as he went through them, one by one. Or sometimes two at a time, maybe even three or four if he was particularly lucky. “My reputation remains intact,” he added, still grinning.
It wasn't as if he could let anyone know he was questioning that reputation for the first time ever. Not when he didn't know exactly what was happening here.
More knowing male laughter at that, his own included. Even if it was a bit forced, for the first time in his life. But yes, this was what Jackson Rule was known for. He was the ladykiller. The charming wolf shifter who, as legend had it, had slept with thousands of eager and willing conquests, within the boundaries of the Wicked Mountain Wolf Shifters pack as well as a large swaths of the country, from here to the Caribbean.
Or so those words had been flung at him, the sharp taste of bitterness underlying the usually cool tones as the speaker had launched her verbal grenade right before he left for his much-needed few weeks of rest and relaxation. “Go ahead, Jackson. Fuck every shifter groupie between here and the islands. It's what you're good at, isn't it?”
Everything had changed for him during this trip. Sure, he'd lived the high life as usual. Enjoyed women and wine, resting and relaxing.
And none of it had done a damn thing to put Tamsin out of his mind.
Damn it to hell and back. He slid his eyes toward her once again, still feeling the sting on his cheek where her fury had connected with him just moments before his alpha had wed his human mate.
Yes, Tamsin Reginald had ruined him for all other women, and he'd never even tasted her sweet skin. What the hell was his problem? Clearly, he was losing his touch. Or his mind. Or both.
"So go on, man," said Finn, a confident, self-satisfied smile plastered on his face as usual. Finn was a ladies' man himself, happy with his middle-of-the-pack status and a lifetime yet of wooing eager women. "Keep telling us about the redhead. I've never been with a redhead," he mused, glancing around the room full of both shifters and humans. "Don't think we've ever had one from Wicked Mountain Town. And since I'm not the beta to our alpha, I'm not allowed luxurious vacations and islands filled with shifter groupies ready and willing to fulfill my every last desire."
Flanking Finn's other side, as always, blond, laid-back Mac laughed. "Keep working at it, Finn," he said. "One day, you'll curry enough favor with the alpha to be afforded the same sort of treatment as our superstar shifter here."
From any other male shifter in the pack, these words could be construed as a challenge. A subtle prodding at the strength of the second most powerful wolf in the pack. But Mac was no threat. Jackson was friendly enough with him, and knew the man well enough to understand that Mac was actually one of the good guys. He didn't use the human females in the pack in the way some of the other male wolves might, demanding a night's pleasure without ever reciprocating any feelings a woman might develop for the wolf in question. Mac apparently was tender with the ladies, and for that reason alone, all women, both human and shifter, fell like flies at his feet. Even more amazingly, they'd always stay friends with him afterward.
Jackson shook his head. He definitely was not friends with any of the women he'd ever bedded. But he always made his intentions clear up front so as to avoid any injured feelings. He might not satisfy their romantic cravings, but he always made sure they walked away with a smile. It was the only right thing to do. That didn't keep him from getting slapped now and then. But he'd never before been slapped for not touching a woman at all.
Shoving away the thought, he focused on something he could control: pack politics, no matter how subtle.
"I feel fairly secure in my position," he said casually, directing his glance at Finn. His words were barbed just a bit. "I will never betray my alpha, and he knows that. Between myself and the alpha sister, the leadership of this pack is more secure than all the gold in Fort Knox. Am I not right, friend?"
This time, his own words were a direct challenge to Finn.
Finn casually threw up his hands in mock surrender, shaking his head as he cast his eyes quickly to the floor, then back up again in a brief yet deliberate show of submission in front of the powerful pack beta. "The leadership of this pack is never in question, Jackson. Nor is your position within it." He grinned and waggled his eyebrows, swerving the moment back into casual celebration mode. "All I'm wishing for is a little bit of the charmed life you seem to live. Feel free to lend me some. The pleasures of our pack have grown somewhat stale, beautiful as they may be."
All three men glanced around the inside of the spacious ballroom they stood within. The ballroom was a sufficiently as grand as its name, with a marbled dance floor, enormous windows that looked out over the valley sprawling in the river mist below them, decorated in the style that would probably put the royal family of England to shame.
All the women sprinkled throughout the room, wolf shifters and humans alike, exuded beauty, youth, eagerness, or sheer intrigue. The pack was over three hundred strong, and it contained a multitude of female delights. Wolf shifters were a notoriously randy bunch, and the Wicked Mountain Wolf Pack was certainly no exception. Alpha Trevor Reginald was a stickler for old-fashioned ways. And old-fashioned packs lived far closer to their primal values in most modern packs. Primal values that included a lot of debauchery and fun for all involved.
Finn was quite right about the allures of the pack. Jackson had sampled most of them. It was his duty to please females, right? Healthy appetite for the pleasures of the flesh, coupled with long lifespans, ensured that wolf shifters enjoyed their lives. Yet despite the front he had put up over the past two months, somewhere deep inside himself Jackson knew his carefree days had ended.
All because of one beautiful, ferocious, exasperating, and completely forbidden she-wolf he had never once touched, and now found he couldn't get out of his every waking thought.
"So," Mac said casually, his tone immediately alerting both Jackson and Finn that he was about to say something interesting. "Just between you and us, what the hell was up with that, ah, gentle greeting you received from the alpha's sister?"
A sudden silence surrounded the three. Jackson sensed both interest as well as small amount of trepidation from both of them. They were quite intrigued as to what his answer would be. Even Mac, who more so than most wolves in the pack generally could behave in a som
ewhat more casual way around Jackson, and sometimes even the alpha, knew he might be slightly overstepping the line here.
The question, Jackson thought that he narrowed his eyes at each of them, is why exactly does Mac think he's treading on fragile ground right now?
"I guess she just doesn't like my face," he finally answered after a sufficiently long pause, shrugging one shoulder. He forced himself to be the picture of indifference, although he prickled with an intensity at just the thought of Tamsin Reginald, with her wild mane of dark hair and those flashing blue eyes.
Mac slowly started to shake his head, his features for once not as playful as they usually were. "Jackson, don't take this the wrong way, but that's some live dynamite you're messing with there. Whatever you said to her, you might want to take back."
Now Jackson frowned and crossed his arms across his chest, tightening the formal jacket across his shoulders. Twitching slightly from the restrictive feeling, he simply stared at Mac for a long moment as he tried to ignore the torture of wearing a stupidly snug jacket he normally would never put on. The alpha's mate, and now wife, was human, and she'd apparently wished for some human trappings at her mating/marriage ceremony. Tamsin had relayed Cassandra's requests for guest attire to Jackson in no uncertain terms. The unspoken implication, naturally, was that Jackson would obey his alpha without hesitation, and wear whatever damn thing the alpha's mate wanted him to.
