Gentry (Wolves of Winter's Edge Book 1)

by T. S. Joyce

  Trouble,

  I can’t answer questions, but I can give you this, another belated birthday present. Everything in it is wrong, but entertaining. I checked the sex scenes and I’m sorry to tell you, but there was no sign of baby gravy. I hope you enjoy the read anyway. Relax. This isn’t for work. Just for fun. I’ll give you the space you need. Call me if you want.

  Chaos

  His phone number was scribbled at the bottom.

  “Are you mushy smiling?” Roman asked from where he was staring into her window with his hands cupped around his face. “I get why he calls you Trouble, but why do you call him Chaos? And what’s baby gravy? Is that some human flirting thing? I’ve never seen this before. It’s gross, but it’s like one of those medical shows where you are repulsed, but at the same time you can’t look away.”

  Blaire sighed tiredly and started her car. “Have a good day, Roman,” she gritted out through clenched teeth.

  “You broke a chair over my back, Blaire. You owe me answers—”

  “I said good day!” She hit the gas and felt a little guilty that part of her wished she would accidently run over Roman’s foot.

  She searched Gentry’s house longingly, but he wasn’t there, and his truck wasn’t parked out front anymore either. Okay, that was a good thing. Now she wouldn’t be tempted to turn around and jump back in with him too quickly. Time to herself was essential today. Her hormones would make her forget all the craziness that happened last night, and she would jump his bones when she should really be taking serious consideration whether to stay here any longer.

  Oh, she believed Asher and Roman when they talked about how much trouble they were in. Those two men had scared the ever-lovin’ poop out of her last night, and they were allies. Kind of. Well, at least they were family to Gentry. Also kind of because she didn’t understand why they all seemed to hate each other so much. And right about now she was thanking all her lucky stars she was an only child because, apparently, the Strikers healed faster than the average human, but they were still black-and-blue today from wailing on each other.

  Last night, snow had fountained into the air, high above the trees, like an upside-down waterfall. Could werewolves do that? She would’ve loved to ask a million questions, but she had tried last night with Gentry, and though he’d looked sick about it the entire walk from Winter’s Edge to her cabin, he’d denied her answers.

  “It’s safer for you if you don’t know,” he’d explained.

  So, this was the type of relationship she could look forward to until she went home. A surface relationship where they both pretended they were the same kind of mammal and avoided all conversations about anything serious or important. Sex with Gentry had been mind-blowing, beautiful, and so satisfying, but a big part of her wanted more with him than just a physical connection. She wanted him to trust her, and she really wanted to trust him, too.

  It was stormy out and snowing once again. Thick flurries drifted down, piling onto her windshield, so she turned on the wipers and squinted up at the churning gray clouds. She wouldn’t see sunshine today.

  She glanced at the book cover again and shook her head. Werewolves existed. So much made sense now. The way he’d seemed so serious when he’d asked if she read paranormal romance. How he’d asked her to trust him and not call the cops. How he’d dragged that dead turkey off her porch. He’d canceled breakfast due to no sleep. Was that because he’d been the wolf that night?

  Someone like you. How many times had she heard that since she’d come to Rangeley? And not just from Gentry, but from the man she’d asked directions from that first day. Perhaps he was a werewolf, too. Maybe everyone in this town was but her.

  That was an unsettling thought.

  Blaire coasted around a bend, but when she saw the massive gray wolf sitting in the middle of the snowy road, she gasped and locked up the brakes. The car skidded sideways on the slick straightaway, but came to a rocking stop before she slid into the animal.

  Green eyes. That was the first thing she noticed. They were bright and the exact shade Gentry’s had been last night. He was huge, much bigger than she imagined wild wolves to be. Even sitting, he was as tall as the top of her window. He had a big barrel chest, and his fur was dark gray with a touch of lighter gray mottled throughout. He had darker points and a black nose. His paws were huge, splayed against the snow and ice.

  He was just watching her, but without warning, he tossed his head back and let off a long, haunting note. His breath froze in the air and looked like smoke rising above him.

  It. Was. Beautiful. The sound and Gentry both.

  She moved to open the door, but Gentry lowered his head and let the howl die in his throat, eyes flashing with warning. And then he stood, much taller than she’d realized, and padded gracefully to the trees that lined the road. He paused on the edge, his eyes looking bright surrounded by that storm-gray fur. His back was to her, but he stared at her over his shoulder.

  She didn’t want to leave. This moment was profound. He’d let her see him, let her in. And everything in her screamed he wasn’t allowed to do this. Not with her. Not with a human. He was taking a huge risk because he cared deeply. About her. He cared.

  She wanted to cry and laugh and cry some more with the realization because she was in this, too. She felt the same. If the roles were reversed, she would take risks to show him he mattered.

  Gentry trotted into the woods with such an unnaturally smooth gait, she couldn’t take her gaze from him until he disappeared into the brush. He’d looked so powerful, so rugged, so dangerous, and so beautiful all at once. If she wasn’t staring right at the distinct wolf prints in the snow near her window, she would’ve tried to convince herself it hadn’t happened. How could it? Science said two species couldn’t occupy the same body. But maybe Gentry and his brothers were formed from magic instead, something she’d never believed in.

  Her world had just been flipped upside down.

  Blaire eased onto the gas and straightened out the car. She’d had these grand plans today to convince herself the supernatural hadn’t taken over this town. She was supposed to go out and meet people to convince herself all was normal around here. She’d planned on convincing herself that last night had happened differently than it did, but Gentry had taken all the uncertainty away from her, as if he had known she needed physical proof of what he was. Of what dwelled inside of him.

  Gentry was a werewolf, and there was no more questioning back and forth. There was no more black and white anymore. Gentry and his brothers were the gray area that didn’t make scientific sense in this world, but that existed anyway.

  She, Blaire Annalee Hayward, had fallen in love with a werewolf.

  This wasn’t the destiny she’d imagined for herself. She was vanilla. Matt had called her “too bland” when he’d given her the divorce papers. He’d said she bored him, and that his life was so un-exciting, he couldn’t pretend to love her another day.

  That had been her life, though. Boring but safe, and now look what had happened? Fate had just laughed. Fate had spun her 180 degrees in a tornado wind and was watching her try to find her way through unfamiliar territory.

  But so what? Blaire grinned as she took a right at the rundown Hunter Cove Inn sign. Maybe her life was meant to have an adventure like this. Maybe her life had been bland before to prepare her for a man like Gentry, so she could appreciate him more. A relationship with him would never, ever be dull.

  The radio was on low, but a song came on about belonging down below. It had a heavy drum beat, and the base was hitting hard. Blaire turned up the radio dial and laughed at the lyrics. The song was talking about a good girl gone bad. Well-played Fate.

  She drove into town blaring it and sang with the chorus the second time around at the top of her lungs.

  Eff you, Matt. No…fuck you, Matt. Yeah, that felt better.

  Gentry had never once made her feel boring or like the color beige. He’d empowered her and been amused when she was sassy.
That man had the devil in him in the form of a wolf, and maybe that was okay because, right now, Blaire felt like a dragon was growing inside of her, too.

  She pulled in front of a coffee shop with a big front porch. On the porch were four rocking chairs situated around a wood burning stove that was steaming with heat. Sweet! She could read her dirty werewolf book and drink hot chocolate and actually vacation! No work.

  She wished Gentry was here, so she could cuddle up in a blanket in the chair, slip her feet under his butt to keep them warm, and then sneak peeks at him whenever she wanted. Which was all the time. Something about that man held her attention.

  The barista was nice to her in the coffee shop. She was probably human. Blaire was assuming the werewolves in this town were rude and hated strangers, so the nice people she met today would probably be humans like her.

  Blaire collected her giant hot chocolate and dusted off the rocking chair closest to the flames, then sat down and opened her book to chapter one, clutching the hot cup to her chest to warm herself.

  She had blasted through Chapter Four before she realized someone was sitting next to her. She was at a dirty part, so her cheeks flushed at being busted.

  The woman grinned knowingly and gestured to Blaire’s book. “Do you read sex books in public often?”

  “No, but I want to,” Blaire said cheekily.

  “You know Gentry Striker?” the woman asked.

  The smile fell from Blaire’s face so fast she felt her ears move. Werewolf? “Who wants to know?”

  “It sounds like you just asked me if I was friend or foe,” the black-haired woman said, warming her hands by the fire.

  “And?”

  She slid Blaire a glance with her twinkling, black eyes. “Friend.” The woman was pretty, with a straight nose and smile lines on her face. She was in her early sixties perhaps, and silver streaked back from her temples in a striking way. “I’ve seen you before.”

  “In town?”

  “Nope.” She pointed to her temple. “In here. Been waiting on you to get here.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “There was a mix-up at the realtor’s office, right? Gentry was looking for a long-term renter, but he got you instead.”

  Blaire sat straight up and settled her book carefully into her lap. “That was your doing?”

  She dipped her chin once.

  “Why?”

  “Lots of reasons, both for you and him. Mostly because Gentry needs someone to push him to his potential. And I’m guessing you need the same.”

  It suddenly felt uncomfortably cold under the woman’s stare. “I should go.” Blaire stood to leave, but the woman said, “You have questions your man can’t answer.” She arched one delicate eyebrow. “I can.”

  Blaire looked longingly at her car. She didn’t like how much this woman knew, but it was also seriously tempting to get some answers that she may never get from Gentry. Slowly, she sat back down and scanned the street. No one seemed to be paying attention to them.

  “What kind of answers.”

  “First, let me introduce myself.” The woman offered her hand. “I’m Odine.”

  Pretty name. “I’m Blaire, but I have a feeling you already knew that,” she said, shaking the woman’s warm hand.

  Odine smiled her answer, then flipped Blaire’s hand over and looked at her palm. She traced the big line that curved around her thumb. “Broken life line.” Her voice was thoughtful. Troubled perhaps.

  “I don’t believe in that stuff,” Blaire murmured, pulling her hand away.

  “Hmm,” Odine said, her eyes tightening in the corners. “Perhaps someday you will. You’ve only recently learned that monsters exist, yes?”

  Blaire swallowed hard. “Are you a monster?”

  “Not the kind you’re thinking of. I’m human, like you. Also like you, I fell for a wolf, which is why I have the answers you will likely never pry from Gentry. This town is a hub for the supernatural. Something about Rangeley attracts them. Maybe it’s the low human population in the winter months, or the miles of woods that surround this place. Maybe it’s the ample game or the rich history of supernaturals in these parts.” Odine gave her a conspiratorial grin and leaned forward, lowering her voice. “Or perhaps it’s the stuff you don’t believe in that attracts the nightmares.”

  “Gentry isn’t a nightmare.”

  “I wasn’t speaking of your mate.”

  “His brothers?”

  “To be decided. Roman and Asher are on the fence. Good on one side. Evil on the other. Which way will they jump? I don’t know that answer yet, but they won’t stay on the fence much longer. Gentry has always been on the right side of the fence. He has his father’s moral compass, and it points due north. It causes…tension…between him and his brothers. They are more like their mother, but he is his father’s child. It bodes good for you.”

  “You called him my mate.”

  “You were his mate before he even laid eyes on you.”

  Unsure, Blaire laughed. “But…I was married.”

  “And how did that work out for you?”

  Anger blasted through her. “That ended because we were broken, not because I belonged to someone else.”

  “You always belonged to Gentry,” Odine said sharply. “Your ex was preparation for what you will go through in Rangeley.”

  Blaire shook her head and inhaled deeply. This was crazy. Odine was clearly insane.

  “You don’t believe in destiny either?” Odine asked innocently. “You will.”

  Blaire scooted to the edge of her chair to leave, but Odine reached forward in a rush and plucked a few strands of hair from Blaire’s head. She turned them over in her hand, where they hovered, caught fire, and turned to ash in an instant. There was a heaviness to the air that clogged Blaire’s throat.

  Odine’s eyes never left hers as she removed her palm from under the floating ashes and let them drop to the snow. “No, I have the right person. You felt a deep connection to him the second you saw him. You wanted him to touch you, body and soul. You knew on a cellular level that he could repair the damage that’s been done to you.”

  “Stop,” Blaire pleaded, terrified.

  “I’m not telling you this to scare you, child.” Odine’s eyes softened. “I’ve been there, right where you are. I’ve been there with my wolf, and it was scary, it was beautiful, and I wish it had been different for me.” Odine pitched her voice louder. “It can be different for you and Gentry. Change is needed in this town. You. Are. That. Change.”

  Blaire looked around, panicked, because she could feel eyes on her. Three men had stopped on the sidewalk and were watching her with angry, glowing eyes.

  “Why are you telling me this here?” she whispered to Odine.

  The softness in Odine’s eyes left in a flash and was replaced by anger. “Because we’re gonna stir up the hive, you and I, Blaire Hayward. Piss off the queen bee who fancies himself a demigod here. He took something precious from me. We’ll put pressure on him to react and force Gentry to step up for this town. Force the other Strikers to pick a side and jump the goddamn fence either way.”

  “You said you were a friend,” Blaire said on a horrified breath.

  “You won’t see it for a while yet,” Odine said, leaning back into her rocking chair, “but I am.”

  She sure as heck didn’t feel like any ally Blaire wanted. Furious, she stood and slammed her empty hot chocolate cup into the trash before she jogged down the stairs and past the werewolves glaring her down. The closest one was growling, and fear pushed her legs faster to the driver’s side of her rental car.

  Blaire had wanted a relaxing day in town, but that woman had just exposed her to a black, pulsing vein of supernatural shit in this town. Worse than that, Odine had exposed Gentry, and that made Blaire angrier than anything.

  She backed out of the parking space in a rush and kept checking the rearview mirror on her way down Main Street. The three men with the glowing eyes were gathered
in the middle of the road talking and watching her speed toward Hunter Cove.

  Odine had told her she had answers, but all she’d done was confuse Blaire more with her riddles. She’d used her for something bad, but for the life of her, Blaire couldn’t understand what.

  Something told her she’d just been dumped into Rangeley’s dark underbelly, and she’d dragged Gentry right down with her.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Blaire rolled down her window as she pulled up to where Roman was chopping wood outside the smallest cabin. “Where’s Gentry?” she asked him.

  “Fuck if I know, I’m not his keeper,” Roman said as he put another log on the chopping block.

  Irritated, she asked, “Is he still a wolf?”

  Roman spun and strode to her window. When he gripped it with his massive hands, Blaire leaned away from him. “You need to stop using terms you don’t know anything about, and quick. You two aren’t careful—”

  “Some woman named Odine just outed me and Gentry in town. Loudly.”

  “Fuck!” The car door groaned, and when Roman shoved away from it, there were two indented handprints.

  Blaire gave an offended sound and tried to roll up the window, but it just made a bunch of clicking sounds. “Roman! This is a rental!”

  “Well, I wouldn’t worry about it too much now, Blaire! You won’t be returning it in this lifetime. Rhett will have you put down by sunset!” Roman’s eyes weren’t blue anymore, but were the bright gold from last night. “Three hours. Asher!” he yelled at the cabin before he turned back to laying into her. “Three hours, and you exposed your relationship. That has to be some kind of friggin’ record.”

  “I didn’t do it. I was trying to read my book. That lady approached me! And she burned some of my hair and frankly, she was a little scary, so I don’t need you yelling at me right now.”

  “What’s happened?” Asher asked as he was jogged down the stairs.

  Roman was typing something into his cell phone, but muttered, “Gentry and Princess Human have been outed to the pack. Is witchcraft one word or two? Princess Human got some of her hair burned by Psychodine. Oh, here it is.” His lips moved as he read silently, then he nodded. “Good, it says it probably won’t kill you. She just got a good look into your soul. So congratulations, you’ll live a few more hours. With a tainted soul.” Roman’s sarcasm wasn’t helping her panic right now.