by Tl Reeve
Shawn settled between her legs and probed her entrance with the tip of his cock. “What?”
“Marry me. Make an honest wolf out of me.”
Excitement filled Brie. Her heart skipped a beat. “Really?”
“Yes, really,” he laughed. “Marry me.”
She squealed as happiness warmed her from the inside out. “Yes. I’ll marry you.”
“Hot damn.” His hips shifted and he filled her in one thrust. “I’ve waited almost my whole life for you. I ain’t ever letting you go. I love you, little Brie.”
“I’m not letting you go either, Shawn. I love you, too.”
Epilogue
Three weeks later
Fern waved as Kathy, Claire, and Lonnie made their way through the maze of tables. Another couple was happily mated, thanks to her and the ladies. A job well done if she did say so herself. Plus, Claire had her niece home. If only Claire’s daughter and son were there, they’d be all set, but, one step at a time. One day at a time.
As the women sat down, Paul came over to the table and greeted them. “Good afternoon, my boy.” Fern smiled. “A round of beers for us. We’re celebrating.” The waiter cocked a brow. “Don’t worry. Henry’s picking us up if we got too unruly.” She winked at him, and he shook his head.
“I am so happy for Brienne and Shawn. Now Claire can plan a wedding.”
“I’m sitting this one out.” Claire played with her amber necklace. “Brienne wants me to relax and bask in the happiness. I intend to.”
Lonnie laughed. “I bet. After the fracas they made in the woods the other night. I wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t get knocked up sooner rather than later.”
“Ah, young love.” Kathy sighed.
“It is beautiful,” Fern agreed.
“So, she’s staying, then,” Lonnie questioned. “I know Brienne and Shawn are mated, but the last I heard, she wanted to finish school.”
“She’s staying.” Claire smiled. “She’ll be finishing at Black Hills College. Lance sent her stuff to the post office in Rapid City so she didn’t have to return.”
“Wonderful.” Fern clapped her hands. “So, who is our next couple?”
“Ginger,” Kathy said. “I heard she’s been talking to Brienne.”
“Oh?” Lonnie arched a brow. “How is it going?”
“Good.” Paul brought their drinks and placed them on the table. “Thank you, Paul.” The mute waiter nodded and headed off to another table. “From what I’ve heard, Ginger is making progress. Not sure how much though.”
“I heard Jasper is having a hard time now.” Claire frowned. “Kole and Max were going to talk to Drew about allowing a family visit.”
“Really?” Fern questioned. “Who?”
“His brother. I think Kole said his name is Mark.”
“Hmm….” Fern tapped her chin. “If he looks anything like Jasper, I’m sure Ginger might be interested. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“What would Ginger be interested in?” Gee’s deep voice surprised Fern. “What are you ladies up to? You never drink this early.”
“We’re celebrating. We’re allowed.” Claire gave him a haughty glance.
“We’re also helping a friend out,” Lonnie added. “In fact, I bet we could help you out, too.”
Fear clouded Gee’s eyes. “Nope, not happening.”
“Oh come on, Gee. It’ll be fun.” Kathy winked at him. “You need to unclench like half the wolves around here.”
“There is a tenderhearted omega who could use a little TLC only a bear like yourself could administer.” Lonnie gave him a saucy wink. “What do you say?”
Gee pulled a face. “Horse shit,” he snarled. “Leave me out of your games.” He stomped away from their table before the women erupted in laughter.
“Well done, ladies,” Fern cheered while the others continued to laugh. “Well done.”
“So, do we have our next match, then?” Kathy steered them back to the topic they’d abandoned when Gee interrupted them.
“I think so.” Claire nodded.
“I agree.” Lonnie tipped her bee toward Kathy.
“Then it’s a match,” Fern supplied.
Movement out of the corner of her eye made her look up. Shawn, with Brie in tow, stopped beside them. Both looked well mated and happy together. She grinned at them then offered the remaining chairs. “What can we do for you?”
“Brienne has some information for you.” Shawn took a seat after helping his mate into her chair.
“I wanted to tell you sooner.” Brienne’s cheeks turned a cute shade of pink. “But, I didn’t…well I wasn’t sure how to tell you, with everything going on. I kind of put it on the back burner.”
“We understand.” Claire took her niece’s hand. “What is it?”
Brienne took a deep breath then let it out slow. “I know where your son and daughter are,” she stated. “I got an email from Jason yesterday.”
Claire’s eyes went wide. Her skin paled. If she hadn’t been situated between Lonnie and Kathy, Fern worried she’d fall over. “Jason?” Claire whispered. “Is…is he okay?”
“He’s fine. He’s in Maine. Portland, to be exact. Sarah is with him and, well, they want to come home. They miss you.”
“Wonderful news.” Fern smacked the table. “Gee, we’re going to need another round of drinks here!”
Brienne wrapped her arms around Claire. They held each other tight. “I can’t believe it. When will they be here?”
“Couple of days. Drew’s been made aware they’re coming home. Ryker’s meeting them at the border of the pack lands.” Brienne held tight to her aunt.
“Well, I’ll be,” Claire murmured. “I guess I’d better tell Joe.”
“Tell me what?” Joe loomed over his mate. His whiskey eyes filled with curiosity. “If you’re wondering, Gee called. Told me you were drunk.”
“Pish.” Lonnie snorted. “We’ve only begun. The old fuddy-duddy.”
“Brienne and Shawn found Jason and Sarah,” Claire blurted. “They’re coming home.”
“Hot damn!” Joe hollered then tugged his mate into his arms and spun her around in a circle. “I can’t wait.” He kissed Claire soundly and the bar erupted in catcalls and wolf whistles.
“Get a room, you two,” Gee yelled from the bar. “And not the side of my bar either!”
Fern laughed along with everyone at the table. “At this rate, we’ll be partying all night.”
“Next round’s on me,” Shawn lifted his hand to signal Paul.
“Why, Mr. Blu, are you planning on getting us drunk today?” Kathy questioned, with a coy grin.
Shawn laughed. “Ma’am, your mate would tan my hide. Now, Brienne, on the other hand, well….”
The girl giggled and swatted at her mate. “You’re trying to get lucky, aren’t you, mate?”
“Indeed I am, Miss Talbert. Indeed I am.”
Matchmaker, Matchmaker, Make them a match…
With Drew’s reign settling the hills, wolves are returning to the Black Hills. Wolves who need mates. The pack needs to grow, right?
So four of the surviving matrons take it upon themselves to set up couples. Question is, how do these ladies decide who to match? Whichever unattached wolf they see first, from a list, or do they just draw a name from a bag?
Their method doesn’t matter, but you can bet they’ll call in favors, make behind-the-scenes plans, and pull whatever strings or stunts required to put wolves together in the name of furthering the pack. And who knows? They might even set their sights on the cantankerous lone bear, Gee….
Black Hills Wolves Matchmaker Subseries
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A Wolf’s Contract by TL Reeve
Chapter One
Las Vegas
Another day, another dollar. Kru Hawthorne straddled his bike before starting it. Being a lone wolf in a human city came with advantages and disadvantages. Pussy and dick were easy to come by. He had a family who didn’t turn their backs on him—unlike what his pack family did all those years ago.
The Dirty Ol’ Bastards, the motorcycle club he played hard with and worked beside occasionally, lived by one rule. Never stab a Bastard in the back. On the rare occasion someone forgot the rule, they sent Kru to bring the point home. As a freelance killer, he’d spent the last ten years acquiring contract work wherever he could, whenever he could. So far, he’d never been caught. He prided himself on that fact. But he also knew the day would come when he’d have to quit and move on.
Move on…. Bittersweet memories of his past filtered through his mind.
At a young age, a drunk driver killed Kru’s mother on the way home from Custard. Her death left Kru and his sister, two young wolves, to fend for themselves. Their father, who took off before he’d been born, didn’t give two shits about them. So, Fawn and he made their own life.
They stayed in their mother’s home. Made repairs when they had to. Things, though hard, were good for a time. Then his sister met Gill. At first, the guy professed his love. He brought them fresh deer meat when they needed it and helped Kru fix the house. However, things began to change. The happy-go-lucky guy became angry all the time. The first time Fawn came home crying, her lip split and her eye swollen shut, she said it was an accident. By the third incident, Kru knew better.
For so many years, he didn’t do anything to stop Gill. He watched day after day as his sister got the shit beat out of her by her boyfriend and their Alpha. With slim pickings for food—more times than not going hungry so Fawn could eat—he didn’t put weight on or grow like the other wolves had. Weak…a runt in some respects, he’d been powerless to stop the vicious attacks. Between her screams at night while they slept and cleaning her cigarette burns during the day, he couldn’t take it anymore.
Kru grew more and more frustrated as the days went by. After Fawn had healed from the latest attack, he left. Kru didn’t look back. The guilt racking him demanded he keep running. There was nothing left in those Black Hills for him. Fawn had to be dead, or so traumatized by Gill she’d never recognize her brother even if Kru did return since he’d changed so much. Hell, he didn’t recognize himself anymore. Would she, if she were alive, accept his apology for running away like a coward?
His wolf howled in outrage, ramping his desire to cut away the ties of his so-called new life and go home.
Lately, it seemed to be ever present. His wolf urged him to head northeast. To take his place within the pack who turned their backs on him and his sister. Never. I’ll never head home. Of course, he should know by now to never say never to anything. Those never “things,” he’d been forced to do to protect himself…to keep his ass out of jail…well, it’d make most people’s toes curl and their stomachs sour. Him? All part of his job.
He learned real quick there were two things which made his job easier as well. The first, sex, and the second, torture.
Sex became more of an instrument, a way to relax his contacts and make them a little loose in the mouth region. Male or female it didn’t matter to him. Answers came easily with a little gratification shared between lovers. He also learned men talked more after an earth-shattering orgasm. The old saying, a guy thinks with his little head, not his big head—completely true. Blow jobs made men blubber, particularly when he pushed all the right buttons.
Through his dalliances, he learned different places targets liked to stay—which also led to quick, sometimes painless death. Women, on the other hand, could be vicious little things. Treat a female right—do something their boyfriends or husbands didn’t do, and she’d give all the right answers. Stand the hell back if their asshole ex had cheated on them with their best friend. He’d found more than one of his marks after fucking a vengeful woman. For him, those nights were his best nights. He’d leave the contact’s country club home loose-legged, sated, and with the information he needed to catch his mark.
However, what sex didn’t reveal, torture would.
Long hours spent working over a man did things to him. Made his wolf a little more bloodthirsty. Some days he actually felt his humanity slipping through his fingers, and the part of him that should’ve worried over it didn’t even flinch. He liked clean kills and, whereas blood didn’t bother him, breaking a body did. Each cut. Each stab of his knife brought memories of his sister to the forefront of his mind. On those nights when Fawn pressed at his consciousness, he made short order of the person strapped to his chair. If, after a few questions, Kru didn’t get any answers, he offed the target.
Kru didn’t possess any redeeming qualities. He never worried about redemption. Wolves like him never sought it. Nor did they want it. He embraced his demons, drawing strength from them. They reminded him why he became who he was and would always be.
A stone-cold killer.
He followed the dirt road to the middle of the desert where the plain, almost dilapidated brick clubhouse of the Vipers stood. He switched off his bike and coasted to a stop, hiding in the obscurity of Joshua trees and shadows. Inside, Craven, president of the Vipers, would be busy at work, according to the information Kru had received earlier. He knew some of the Vipers. Even liked a few. When the hit came in through his email with a date, time, and location, of course he did his research. He talked to some of his informants, slept with a few others, and though no one heard any rumblings about any misdeeds Craven had taken part in, he took the job anyway. Later, he’d justify it with the money he made. Ten thousand went a long way.
With no bikes parked nearby and the lights off, he knew the chances of the job being a setup were high, but he also had to get it done. Kru crept around the side of the building. If his op went sideways, and someone tried to get the drop on him, he didn’t want to give away his position. He stepped toward the rear door and paused. His lip curled in revolt. The acrid stench of blood and death assailed him.
His wolf bristled.
Instinct told him to leave it alone. Practicality said he needed the money. Pulling his gun from its holster, he switched off the safety then continued on. The door stood open a few inches. Another scent hit him square in the chest, a familiar made-his-mouth-water aroma. The same scent had driven him insane when he’d smelled her earlier at the charity rally.
Gabby.
He crept through the open door, screwing the silencer in place on the barrel of his Heckler and Kosh 9mm. The metallic stench filled his nostrils. His hands tightened around the grip of the firearm. His teeth descended.
Turn around and go back the way you came. In fact, get the hell out of Dodge.
No. He had to keep going. He had to see what happened. What if someone hurt Gabby? He growled. His wolf didn’t like the idea of her being involved in whatever the hell might be waiting for him. If she was hurt, God help the person who did it. He’d stop at nothing to make them pay.
Each step he took brought him closer to his destination. To death. The putrid smell grew thicker, enraging his beast even more. With each deep breath, the wolf pushed toward the surface. A constant growl rumbled in his chest. He had to gain some control over himself or the wolf would emerge, exposing his true nature to anyone still in the building.
Small drops of blood guided him and, when he stepped around the corner, he sucked in a breath. There, slumped over in his chair, sat Craven. The wide-eyed death stare surprised him momentarily as he took in the small office. The place had been trashed. File cabinets were tipped into each other. Papers were strewn across the floor. Craven’s hands were zip-tied behind him and his ank
les were duct-taped to the legs of the chair. His throat had been slit and not very well. The line was jagged, like the person who did it didn’t realize how hard cutting through skin and cartilage was. Blood splatter covered the desk in front of him. His shirt soaked with the thick red liquid, still wet from his killing. If Kru had to guess, Craven had been dead for only a couple of hours.
Again, the floral scent he knew so well wafted above the coopery din of Craven’s blood. Kru lifted his head to draw in the aroma. Unfortunately, he couldn’t distinguish whether she was there in the room or if it was a lingering scent from her time spent in the clubhouse. The miasma of death overrode everything.
Avoiding the pool of blood, he drew closer, taking in the scene. His gaze landed on a K-bar knife sitting on the desk in front of Craven. Etched into the handle was Kru’s name, a gift from the Dirty Ol’ Bastards after his first contract with them. “What the fuck?” Blood covered the blade and hilt, while crimson fingerprints surrounded the weapon. Anger spiked in his system. Someone had framed him. He didn’t want to believe the Bastards, who had been like brothers to him for the last seven years, would let him take the fall for something he didn’t do, but he knew those he considered family before had wrecked his life and his sister’s. Son of a bitch!
Behind him, the clank of steel hitting the floor caught his attention. He spun as a dark figure ran away. “Wait.” He took off after the blur. Bloody footprints headed to the right, and he gave chase. He had to discover who’d been in the room with Craven and why. The deeper he went into the clubhouse, the darker it got, and the floral scent clung to the air, wiping away the putrid odor.
“Stop.” His deep voice echoed off the walls surrounding him. The sound of running quieted.
He sniffed the air as he prowled the corridor until he found an open room. Stale, with a hint of smoke, Gabby’s floral scent lingered in the space. The idea of her doing anything in the room pissed his wolf off, which only served to intensify his ire. Shadows fell over the bed in the corner. On the table next to it sat a lamp. The clatter of items falling to the floor along with a muffled feminine cry drew his attention back to the hallway. He ran, glancing left then right. Shit. This is not good. Not only is your knife here, whoever that was can identify you. The someday he worried about being his demise became the inevitable. He’d been careful. Done his research. This time, he’d let his greed blind him to the facts.
