by Anya Nowlan
Yet he couldn’t help the feeling in his gut that told him he should do more, find out more, make sure he would be well prepared if anything like Loch came at him or his brothers in the pack again.
They were the only family he had ever known, after all. So maybe he was slightly paranoid. But he would rather be safe than sorry.
And then there was the matter of that void that left him feeling antsy and out of place, especially in the presence of people as happy as Tate and Tessa clearly were.
Tate let out a long sigh, and Wes got the feeling this particular conversation was coming to an end, likely not in his favor.
“I get where you’re coming from,” Tate said. “But if I start the patrols up again, that’s going to send a message that we have something to fear. You remember how on edge everyone was, how scared. People were afraid to take their kids to school, to leave for work. I’m not going to put everyone through that again, not without good reason.”
There was nothing left for Wes to say. Tate had to look out for the well-being of the whole pack, and all Wes had for an argument was an uneasy feeling in his gut that may or may not have something to do with the possibility of the gates of hell opening up beneath their feet. That was hardly a reason to cause panic.
“I understand,” he nodded, making both Tate and Tessa stand up.
“You’re still coming to dinner on Friday, I hope?” Tessa asked.
“He better, because we have enough beef in the freezer to feed a small army,” Tate added.
“I’ve been over for dinner five Fridays in a row,” Wes said. “Are you sure you want me hanging around again?”
“You helped save both of our lives,” Tessa replied, looking up at Tate. “A home-cooked meal is the least we can do.”
It wasn’t as if Wes had any other plans, other than going home to an empty house. Besides, the way Tessa was smiling at him expectantly, he didn’t feel like saying ‘no’ was really an option.
“I’ll be there,” he said, smiling back at Tessa.
“Great,” she beamed.
“I’ll be out of your hair now,” Wes replied, nodding at Tate before turning to leave.
He hadn’t really had any great expectations when he had come to Tate in the first place, but he had to say something, if just for his own peace of mind. But as he stepped outside, familiar scents filling his nostrils, and the smell of earth calling out to his wolf, he knew he couldn’t just let it go.
Halfway to his little cabin, he swerved into the woods, finding the small trail leading to the outer limits of pack lands easily. Boots sinking into the soft dirt, he followed the path, keeping his eyes and ears open. It did nothing for the looming pit in his stomach, but it kept his mind on something else, something that could be achieved immediately – like a quick patrol of the grounds.
Weaving in between tall trees, he took in deep breaths, sniffing for scents that didn’t belong. His animal side was urging him to let go, to release the wolf, and run until the feeling of disquiet fell off his shoulders.
But he held off, letting his feet carry him toward a hill up ahead, where he could get a better view of the area. The wind was quiet, the trees still, as he started to climb up. Almost halfway there, a soft rustle made him still in his tracks and perk up his ears.
Crouching down low, he listened to the sounds, making out approaching footsteps.
One person, treading lightly, he thought, worrying the air with his nose.
It’s not paranoia if they’re actually out to get you.
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.
And the surprises didn’t end there.
“Hey,” she said, her tone bordering on snippy as she tucked her map away and grabbed onto the straps of her backpack. “You wouldn’t happen to belong to the local wolf pack, would you?”
The pit might as well not have been there at all at that very moment.
Three
Dakota
“I think you might have forgotten to introduce yourself,” the man standing opposite Dakota said, crossing his muscular arms in front of him.
Easily two times smaller than him, Dakota stood as tall as she could, squaring her shoulders and meeting his hazel eyes straight on.
Cute, her mind offered, unhelpful. Devastating, it corrected itself.
Again, not helpful.
“Just thought I’d start with the important stuff,” she shrugged. “I’m kind of on a tight schedule.”
The man arched a brow at her, a smile tugging at the edges of his lips. For some odd reason, Dakota found herself unable to look away, her gaze following along his chiseled jawline and pronounced cheekbones.
“I do belong to the pack,” he admitted. “And you’re trespassing.”
“Am I?” she clucked her tongue, making a show of looking around her. “I don’t see any signs saying this is private property.”
“It’s kind of a known thing,” he replied. “Which makes me think you’re not from around here. Or very familiar with shifters. See, wolves don’t really bother with signage much.”
“You’re right, I’m not from around here,” Dakota conceded. “But I know more than you think.”
She’d swallow the comment about wolves and reading comprehension that wanted to bubble up. For everyone’s sake.
“Really?” the man grinned. “So you think that map you were holding is going to help you find the pack?”
“It might.”
Truth was, she had been walking around in circles, hoping to get lucky and stumble on someone or something that could show her the way. No one in town had been willing to help her, which wasn’t surprising, but didn’t fail to be frustrating.
Shifters tended to keep to themselves, and no one wanted to piss off a pack of wolves by giving an outsider directions to their lands. Some signs would have really helped.
I need this guy to point me in the right direction.
“Look, maybe we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot here,” she said, reaching out a hand. “I’m Dakota.”
The man looked slightly suspicious when he grabbed her hand in his, enveloping it in his huge, warm palm. They both held on just a moment too long, eyes locking together. She was beginning to agree with the nervous giggling her brain was desperate to produce, but held down. Dakota cleared her throat as she pulled away, caught off guard by the odd dip in her gut as her fingers slid away from his grip.
“Wes,” the man replied, a hint of surprise in his voice.
Sticking her hands in her back pockets, Dakota gave him a quick nod.
Damn if he wasn’t one of the sexiest men she’d ever met, and her body seemed to agree, her skin still buzzing from where he’d touched it. This wasn’t a great time to get distracted, admittedly, but she felt she wasn’t given much choice in the matter.
“Nice to meet you,” Dakota said. “Now, there’s someone in your pack that I really need to talk to, so I’d really appreciate it if you helped me out.”
“Is whoever it is you need to see expecting you?” Wes questioned, glancing at her backpack.
“Not exactly,” Dakota replied. “But I think she’ll be happy to see me once I tell her why I’m here.”
“Care to tell me who this ‘she’ is?” Wes arched a brow at her.
“I think that’s between me and her, don’t you?” Dakota asked, putting on a smile.
“Not that simple,” Wes shook his head. “You better give me a good reason for why you’re here, or I’m taking you back into town.”
“You can try,” Dakota huffed.
Her unhelpful mind added a slew of comments how getting his hands on her might just be the thing she’d need. Though the fact that she was daring a fully grown werewolf to forcefully remove her wasn’t smart by any stretch of the imagination.
“Then tell me who you need to see and maybe I’ll help you,” Wes replied.
Dakota couldn’t help but pout, the sun beating down on her making her want to reach for the bottle of water in her bag. But she resisted, glaring at the man opposite her instead. Brute force wasn’t going to get him out of her way, and he seemed to take protecting his pack very seriously.
She couldn’t exactly blame him for that.
Sighing, Dakota crossed her arms in front of her, knowing she didn’t have a lot of options left. Arguing with Wes definitely wasn’t getting her closer to retrieving one of her dad’s most powerful artifacts.
“Tessa Mayberry,” she finally said. “I’m here to see Tessa Mayberry.”
By the way Wes’ eyes widened, she could tell he knew exactly who she was talking about.
“Why do you need to see her?” he asked immediately, taking a step closer to Dakota.
She in turn stood her ground, narrowing her eyes when Wes took a deep breath, ridges forming on his long, straight nose. He was standing too close. She could easily imagine him being even closer, though, and that didn’t do much to assuage herself that she was as in control of the situation as she would have liked to think.
“Did you just sniff me?” she asked in return, brow furrowing.
“Just wanted to make sure,” he muttered in response, eyeing her carefully.
“Make sure of what?” Dakota questioned.
That just the mention of Tessa’s name put Wes so on edge struck her as odd, and a little ominous. Not wanting to go down the road of all the worst case scenarios rattling around in her head, she forced herself to stay calm, waiting for Wes to respond.
“Nothing,” he shook his head, making her cluck her tongue.
“You’re being weird and I want to know why,” she demanded.
“Are you always this bossy?” Wes countered. “Maybe I’m weird by way of personality. You shouldn’t judge so fast.”
“Only when I need to be,” she shrugged. “And I don’t think I’m the only one jumping to conclusions here.”
Taking a step back, Wes laughed at that, and Dakota found the sound immensely enjoyable. He looked even cuter when he smiled.
All right, that’s enough. I’m not here to flirt with some wolf, she reminded herself.
Even if she really wanted to.
“I’ll tell you why I’m being weird if you tell me why you need to see Tessa,” Wes bargained.
“Fine,” Dakota reluctantly agreed.
Not only was she tired of wandering around Pinedale’s thick, maze-like woods, the way Wes had become guarded at the mention of Ms. Mayberry made Dakota think she might have even less time than she had thought to locate Tessa, and the items she had procured during dad’s estate sale.
Or should I call it Helen’s rushed auction? Dakota mused bitterly. A graveyard sale, if you will.
“My father died some time ago,” she started, watching Wes’ reactions closely. “And my aunt sold some of his stuff that wasn’t meant to be sold. Ms. Mayberry used to run an antique store, and some stuff got sent there by mistake. My aunt didn’t really care much about the mix-up. Too busy counting her money,” she couldn’t help but mutter.
“But those items are important to me, and I was hoping to buy them back. At a fair price, of course,” she finished. “Mayberry Antiques is no longer in business, so I tracked Ms. Mayberry here, to Pinedale.”
Wes was now blinking at her silently, looking a lot more enthralled by her story than she would have thought. Just as she was about to ask if he was ever going to speak again, he furrowed his brow, a common characteristic of him as she’d now realized, voice low as he spoke, as if he didn’t want anyone to overhear.
Which struck Dakota as odd, since they were standing in the middle of nowhere, with no one in sight as far as the eye could see.
“Those items,” he started, staring right into her eyes. “They wouldn’t happen to include an amulet, would they? Gold chain, with a big-ass green gem in the middle of the pendant?”
Dakota’s heartbeat sped up as she stared back at Wes, afraid of where this was going.
“That is one of the things I’m looking for,” she replied, keeping her voice even.
“And were you aware it could be used to bring demons into our reality?” Wes asked, and Dakota was sure her eyebrows must have shot up into her hairline.
Shit. This just couldn’t have been a simple retrieval mission, could it?
Four
Wes
All eyes were on Wes as he led Dakota into the little village the pack had set up in the middle of the forest. He could almost feel all the wolves around him perk up and pay attention, his own animal growling softly beneath his skin.
“Everyone’s staring,” Dakota whispered at his side, her gaze darting all around the place.
“We don’t get many visitors,” Wes replied, heading straight for Tate’s house. “And let’s just say after that amulet came into play, people around here have been a little more on guard than usual.”
Dakota just nodded at that, and Wes had to wonder how much the woman knew about what the pack had been through. Yet, despite knowing about demons freaking everyone out pretty thoroughly, the whole ordeal had managed to make the pack even stronger.
The fact that Tate had stepped up to the plate as Alpha didn’t hurt either. It seemed the Pinedale wolves were on the right track, stronger than ever, but Wes had to ask himself – did bringing Dakota here jeopardize that? He’d had his doubts about Tate’s return even before he brought a demon with him, and this continuing string of what he could only define as ‘trouble’ wasn’t helping.
Even if said trouble came in a package as entirely compelling as Dakota.
It was a chance he had to take. She was already snooping around. Better to know what she was up to and what she knew than to have her meddling in their business on the down low.
“Are you taking me to Tessa?” Dakota asked as Wes came to a stop in front of Tate’s house.
“Yes,” Wes replied flatly. “But I’ll warn you – her fiancé is very protective. I suggest you tread carefully. Tessa’s been through a lot,” he said, knocking on Tate’s door.
Dakota was pacing at his side, a crease between her brows.
“Because of… the amulet?” she asked, whispering the last word.
Before Wes could answer, Tate swung the door open, his gaze immediately focusing on Dakota.
“Wes,” Tate said, an edge to his tone. “Thought I smelled something new. Who is this?”
“Dakota Thompson,” Dakota reached out a hand, a polite smile on her lips.
Tate just narrowed his eyes at her, making her snatch her hand back and clear her throat.
“I found her… on patrol,” Wes explaine
d, earning a sigh of mild exasperation from Tate.
“Is she lost? You can take my car if you need to take her into town,” he said.
“I’m looking for Tessa Mayberry,” Dakota blurted out, before Wes could stop her.
Didn’t I tell her to tread lightly? Wes sighed to himself.
“Are you a friend of hers?” Tate questioned, his eyes swinging from Dakota to Wes.
“Not really,” Dakota admitted. “But I think she knew my father, from back in Whitefish.”
Wes could see a shadow pass over Tate’s face as he took a step closer, blocking the doorway completely with his broad shoulders.
“Who the hell are you?” Tate growled.
Acting purely on instinct, Wes stepped in, standing in front of Dakota. Why he felt like he needed to defend her, he had no idea. For all he knew, she could just be some crazy lady, or even worse, she could be totally sane and end up dragging more demonic trouble to the pack’s doorstep.
But Wes had brought her here, which made her his responsibility. Besides, his wolf was clawing at him, urging him to keep her safe. Or maybe it was just telling him that borderline challenging his Alpha was a really poor life decision.
Tate coiled up visibly, muscles bunching under his loose shirt, and Wes knew he was mirroring the tension of his Alpha before he was even physically aware he was doing it.
“Tate? What’s going on?” Tessa’s voice echoed out from somewhere in the living room and making Tate back off a little.
“It’s nothing…” Tate started to say, but Dakota intervened.
“Ms. Mayberry,” she called out, making Wes groan to himself. “I need to talk to you. I’m Ben Thompson’s daughter, Dakota.”
Tate shot a glare Wes’ way before stepping aside, making room for Tessa to join him in the doorway.
“That’s funny,” Tate said, wrapping an arm around Tessa’s shoulders protectively. Tessa blanched, staring at Dakota. “Because as far as we know, Mr. Thompson didn’t have any children.”
