by Anya Nowlan
Last Chance Mate: Wes
Anya Nowlan
Contents
A Little Taste…
Copyright
1. Dakota
2. Wes
3. Dakota
4. Wes
5. Dakota
6. Wes
7. Dakota
8. Wes
9. Dakota
10. Wes
11. Dakota
12. Wes
13. Dakota
14. Wes
15. Dakota
16. Wes
17. Dakota
18. Wes
19. Dakota
20. Wes
21. Dakota
22. Wes
23. Dakota
24. Wes
25. Dakota
26. Wes
27. Dakota
28. Wes
29. Dakota
30. Wes
31. Dakota
32. Wes
33. Dakota
34. Wes
35. Dakota
36. Wes
37. Dakota
Epilogue
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About the Author
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A Little Taste…
The scent was strong, an odd combination of sweet and fresh that caught him off guard. A growl started to build in his chest even as he tried to suppress it, the wolf inside him reacting on its own.
Since a single human certainly wasn’t a threat to him, and he was probably dealing with a lost hiker, Wes popped up, climbing the hill to see who it was that had so carelessly wandered into pack territory. Still, his shoulders were stiffer than they should have been, the wolf, equally as antsy, circling high in his subconscious mind.
Locals knew to steer clear, so odds were this was an outsider.
With all his assumptions, though, Wes, pit of uncertainty and all, was woefully unprepared for the reality. Reaching the top of the hill at the same time as the person he had smelled, he found himself face to face with a woman, more beautiful than he had ever seen.
With her long, dark hair swept back into a high ponytail, her eyes snapped up from the map she was holding to give Wes a once-over. He did the same, letting his eyes glide over her tan, shapely legs, on display thanks to the shorts she was wearing.
The pit lessened remarkably.
Pursing her pouty lips, she cocked a hip, clearly not at all intimidated by Wes’ sudden presence. Standing tall at 6'4", and with a broad build characteristic of the Pinedale wolves, Wes was used to people blanching a little when first meeting him.
But not this woman. She stared right at him with those green eyes of hers, looking like he had trespassed on her land, not the other way around.
Copyright © 2017 Anya Nowlan
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Last Chance Mate: Wes
All rights reserved.
No part of this work may be used, reproduced, transmitted in any form or by any means by anyone but the purchaser for their own personal use. This book may not be reproduced in any form without the express written permission of Anya Nowlan. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material is prohibited without the express written permission of the author.
Cover © Jack of Covers
One
Dakota
“Sold them?” Dakota asked, trying hard not to shout. “Father left those items to me for a reason. You had no right, Helen.”
She shook her head, placing her palms on the large, marble desk in front of her. The woman sitting behind it just sighed, steepling her perfectly manicured fingers together.
“Dakota, darling, calm down,” Helen said, while a white cat strolled over from the corner of the room, weaving in between her legs. “You can still claim your share of the inheritance. I’ve sent you a copy of the court order. Didn’t you read it?”
“Oh, the order where you had me declared dead?” Dakota arched a brow. Screaming didn’t seem to be having the expected result. She was resorting to quivering fury instead. “That was a little presumptuous now, wasn’t it?”
“I always hoped that you were alive and well, dear,” Helen replied, pursing her thin, red lips, looking remarkably alike someone who did, in fact, not hope for Dakota to be alive and well. “But I couldn’t let the estate go on bleeding money. You understand, don’t you? But now that you’re here, we can figure all this out.”
She smiled, tilting her head at Dakota.
“This isn’t about the money,” Dakota huffed, moving to pace around Helen’s study. “Some of those items were… valuable in other ways.”
It was the best response she could manage without shaking Helen so hard that she’d run the risk of dislocating Helen’s sense of cold pragmatism along with the stick up her proverbial behind. Dakota couldn’t exactly come out with the truth about why her father’s collection was so important, and why it was imperative it didn’t fall into incompetent or clueless hands. The consequences of that could be downright dangerous.
Like ‘end of the world as we know it’ dangerous. And Helen’s just handed them off to the highest bidder.
The only danger right now though, was Dakota’s rising temper as she glared at Helen. The woman still looked like she remembered her from a couple of years ago, only the lines around her eyes were more pronounced, and her gray, curled hair had more silver in it.
“Well, I’m sorry if you were emotionally invested in any of that junk, but I’m not the one that disappeared off the face of the earth. We contacted the guide you hired in Guatemala, and he said you just disappeared into the jungle and didn’t come back. What was I supposed to think?”
“Everyone knows I sometimes go off the grid on my expeditions,” Dakota countered, standing in the middle of the room, hands on her hips. Strangling still seemed like a mighty fine option. “You could have waited. Dad’s barely been gone six months, and you’ve already sold everything, including the house in Whitefish. What was the rush?”
“There was no rush,” Helen denied, bending down to pick up her cat and pull it onto her lap. “Hello, Charlotte,” she cooed, running her fingers down the cat’s long, smooth fur. “Did you miss mommy?”
Excellent diversion tactic. Truly groundbreaking.
Dakota couldn’t help but roll her eyes. She couldn’t even be surprised Helen cared more about petting her cat than talking to her grieving niece, freshly back from the dead.
“You always did love that cat more than people,” she remarked, an edge creeping into her tone.
“At least Charlotte doesn’t disappoint me,” Helen huffed, her eyes fixing back on Dakota. “You come here, demanding explanations, when you weren’t even here when I buried Ben. No, you were off procuring some knick-knacks for his dusty old collection, feeding into his obsession. Isn’t it about time to start your own life, Dakota?”
“Don’t talk about him like you care,” Dakota scoffed. “You didn’t even bother showing up for mom’s funeral, so you don’t get to act all high and mighty here. I didn’t know dad had died, or I would have been here. You know that.”
Helen had hit a sore spot, but Dakota couldn’t let that show. Of course she felt guilty about not being here, of not having a chance to say goodbye to her father. He was the only hero she’d ever known. But she couldn’t dwell on that now. There were more important things she had to deal with.
&nb
sp; Helen started to say something, but snapped her mouth shut at the last moment. Running a hand through her black hair, Dakota took a deep breath, centering herself. This back and forth wasn’t going to get her anywhere, and Helen wasn’t one to be swayed by emotional arguments.
Time to speak her language.
“Look,” she started, walking to the desk and looming over Helen. “Let’s lay it all out there. You have been living above your means for years, and when dad died, you saw an opportunity to make some quick money. I know what that house is worth, and we both know that ‘junk’ dad was ‘obsessed’ with had pieces people all over the world made offers on all the time,” she said, watching Helen lean back and narrow her eyes.
“We both know dad meant for that collection to go to me, and you know full well I could drag you through the courts for years,” Dakota continued. “Having me declared dead in such a short time?” she scoffed. “I bet there were some shady deals that went into pulling that off.”
“Dakota…” Helen started, her expression falling just enough to make the casual observer think that the stick was mid-dislodging, but Dakota knew better. She cut her off, purposefully ignoring the placating tone of her aunt’s voice.
“No, we are way past talking this through. If you want to see a dime of that money before I get my own lawyers involved and make this all very complicated, you better listen,” Dakota warned. “You can keep whatever you made off the house, I don’t care. But you are giving me a list of all your buyers. Anyone who bought anything that was meant to be left to me, I want to know their names.”
“Is that all?” Helen asked, a lot less arrogant than before. More placating, probably as a result of the very real relief she must have felt to keep herself and Charlotte in the finery she was so attached to.
“No,” Dakota replied, staring Helen down. “I also want the money you made off the sales, so I can buy it all back. Every piece of dad’s collection that was meant to go to me.”
Nervous laughter slipped past Helen’s lips, the cat in her lap all but forgotten as she leaned forward, studying Dakota with wide eyes. The animal squirmed, jumping off Helen with its tail twitching.
“You can’t think it’s that easy,” Helen said. “Some of these people have been eyeing your father’s collection for years.”
Ah, so now she admits it’s not ‘junk’.
“I can be very persuasive, now can’t I, dear aunt,” Dakota countered. “I’ve managed to come back from the grave you so hastily put me in. I think I can handle some stuffy rich dudes with a thing for knick-knacks, as you called them.”
“There’s no need for threats,” Helen replied, squaring her shoulders. “And neither of us wants to let the courts to get involved with what is clearly a family matter,” she added, voice as smooth as honey once more.
Oh, so now we’re family? Dakota thought, but refrained from saying aloud.
She had only ever remembered seeing her aunt around when the woman needed something from her dad, and Helen had never even attempted to have any kind of relationship with Dakota herself. Still, she hadn’t expected Helen to go as far as to steal what was meant to be hers.
“So we have a deal?” Dakota asked.
“Yes. You will have the list, and the money. I’ll get it all settled, and we can get everything in writing, ready to be signed by tomorrow,” Helen replied.
Crossing her arms in front of her, Dakota stifled a groan at the insincere smile plastered on her aunt’s face. At least once this deal was over, they could both go back to pretending the other didn’t exist. Before Dakota actually put her last remaining relative in a grave far more real than hers had been.
Now let’s just hope none of the people that bought dad’s stuff have realized what they really have on their hands.
Two
Wes
Wes paced around near a two-story house, looking out at the pines shooting up in the distance. Behind him, homes circled a square in the middle of a large clearing in the woods, many of them empty as this was the day most people drove into town to get supplies for the coming week, or to just have dinner and meet up with friends.
But Wes had other plans.
Glancing over at the house, he started walking toward it as soon as he heard footsteps coming from inside. A moment later, the door swung open, council members filing out one by one.
Reeve and Collins, the oldest members of the council walked off first, talking among themselves and not paying Wes much attention. Now there were three men left in the doorway, the tallest one listening and nodding at the other two, before clapping them both on the back and sending them on their way.
“Tate,” Wes called out, before the tall man had a chance to retreat back into the house.
“Wes,” the man replied, leaning on the doorframe. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
“I know you’re busy, but I just wanted a quick word,” We said, coming to a stop in front of Tate.
Running a hand over his dark, closely cropped hair, Tate considered him for a moment, before gesturing him inside.
“I think I know what this is about,” Tate remarked, as Wes closed the door after himself.
He followed Tate into the living room, not knowing where to start. He had gone over what he wanted to say many times, but now that he was standing in front of his Alpha, the words were hard to find.
“I wanted to talk about patrols,” he finally said, squaring his shoulders.
“Yeah, that’s what I figured,” Tate replied with a small smile, plopping down into one of the armchairs scattered around in a half-circle in the middle of the room.
He gestured for Wes to sit as well, but he shook his head.
Wes’ Alpha was an imposing man. Tall and built to lead, not so much different from Wes himself. Unlike Tate though, Wes had never left the pack. There wasn’t a lot of animosity left stirring in the air from that particular show of individuality, but it would have been a lie to claim that there were no tensions due to it at all. Tate had, after all, almost killed all of them with what he brought back from his excursion.
Regardless of personal differences though, Wes was here for a reason.
“I’d rather stand,” Wes said. “I know it’s been months since the… incident,” he started, clasping his hands behind his back. “There have been no more threats since then, and everyone believes the situation has been settled for good. But I still think we should be cautious.”
“I don’t disagree,” Tate replied, folding his hands in front of him, gray eyes trained on Wes. “It is always wise to be cautious. But there’s also no need to be overly concerned. You were there, you saw Loch pretty much melt into a puddle. I don’t think that’s something one comes back from,” Tate arched a brow at him.
Wes didn’t need to be reminded. The events of that night were burned into his mind, never to be forgotten. Yet, there was still so much they didn’t know, about Loch or his kind, or what creatures like him were truly capable of.
Wes’ world had been irrevocably changed, and while everyone else seemed content to just move on and act like everything hadn’t just been turned upside down and inside out, he couldn’t do that.
“What if there are more of… them?” Wes asked, unwilling to let it go and subsequently voicing his concern.
“There undoubtedly are more of them,” Tate replied. “But why would any of them come here?”
They were both dancing around the word they really wanted to say. But for some reason, neither of them, or the rest of the pack, for that matter, felt the need to talk about demons out loud.
Even in Wes’ thoughts, it was hard to accept that was what he had encountered. Not every day a shapeshifter came face to face with something stranger than himself, and by a wide margin.
Wes opened his mouth to respond when the soft sound of footsteps drew his attention to the staircase instead. A woman was slowly descending it, her hand trailing down the railing, a soft smile on her face.
“I thought the meeting was o
ver,” she remarked, walking over to stand next to Tate. “Hey, Wes,” she added, as Tate grabbed her hand and pulled her down to sit on his lap. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” she giggled, swatting at him.
“Hey, Tessa,” Wes nodded.
“Wes thinks we should reestablish patrols along the perimeter of pack lands, if I’m reading this situation correctly,” Tate commented, throwing an arm around Tessa.
Still awkwardly standing in the middle of the room, Wes felt the air change. Tate had never been a particularly harsh or demanding Alpha, or someone who liked to throw his weight around, but there was still an aura of authority to him that the wolf inside Wes couldn’t help but respect.
But when the man was around his mate, a whole new side of Tate was revealed. It made him… uncomfortable. Why, he wasn’t entirely sure, but watching those two together was like admitting a hole he didn’t know to exist in himself. Yet there it was, black and looming, ready to be filled up with anything he could find.
Like keeping the pack safe.
Tessa tilted her head at Wes, her strawberry blonde hair falling down her back.
“We’ve made sure no one can get their hands on the amulet Loch was after, and I’m pretty sure he was working alone. Either way, after what happened to him, I don’t think anyone is eager to try and challenge the Pinedale wolf pack,” she said, growing more serious.
“We’ve weighed all of this with the council and come to the same conclusion,” Tate nodded.
“I’m not here to dredge up painful memories,” Wes started, studying the two of them, struck once more by how evident their bond was. “But we were all there. We know what that man, or thing, was capable of. Who’s to say there aren’t even more powerful creatures lurking out there? We could have just gotten lucky with Loch.”
Tessa got a faraway look in her eyes, staring at something behind Wes. The last thing he had wanted to do was open up old wounds. He had just been there for the final fight, but he knew well enough that creature had tormented Tessa before that, in more ways than one.
