by Rosanna Leo
“You remembered?”
“I remember a lot of things.” Like how his sexy smile made her knees knock.
He offered her a sheepish grin, like anyone who hated being the center of attention. “We’ll see. For now, I’m happy.”
She prepared to make a comment to Shirley about her son’s success, and turned to face her. Upon doing so, she realized Bart’s mom had drifted away without saying anything. Charlotte scanned the pub and saw Shirley at the other end of the large room, at her husband’s side. The older woman glanced up, caught her eye, and waved, grinning madly. Waving back, she said to Bart, “Your mom is one slippery lady.”
He shook his head, grinning. “Oh, yeah. Totally sly. I’m sure she thinks her stealthy matchmaking efforts have gone completely unnoticed.”
She blinked at him, and her pulse sped up. “Matchmaking?”
“I wouldn’t put it past her.” He offered her a wide smile this time, showing his straight, white teeth. And God help her, her womb clenched in response. “It’s just a shame Mom has no clue how much we despise each other.”
The grin she gave him back felt feeble on her face. “Ha. Right. We’ll set her straight in no time.”
His black-brown eyes seemed to grow darker in that moment as he regarded her. Watching her, he brought his bottle to his mouth for another drink, and his tongue touched the tip of the bottle. Her gaze felt glued to his mouth. She couldn’t have moved if she’d wanted to. And right now, she really just wanted to gawk at his tongue. He traced the bottle top and then put the whole tip in his mouth, taking a hearty swig.
Just as her own throat went as dry as the parchment of an illuminated manuscript in a monastic archive.
*
She continued to stare at him in such a strange way. Did he have food on his face? While he quietly pondered the possibility, he became aware of excited murmurs in the center of the room. He looked over and did a double take when he spotted his parents standing in the middle of the pub floor, gesturing for the pack members to gather round.
“Come on,” Charlotte said, walking toward the action. “It looks like your folks want to make an announcement.”
“Yeah. They probably want to thank everyone for coming.”
Bart took up a spot behind Charlotte, which proved a mistake because it put her right under his nose. Her delicious scent gave him an immediate hard-on, and he thanked Christ his crotch wasn’t visible. He stood still, gritted his teeth, and tried his damndest not to breathe her in.
His dad put an arm around his mom and inhaled, smiling at those gathered. “Pack. Family. To a wolf, it’s everything. We celebrate as a unit, mourn as a unit, and think as a unit. For Shirley and I, our family is the reason we’ve woken up in the morning, and we’re so proud of the next generation, our children and our nephews.” He took a moment and smiled at all of them in turn: Bart, Lena, Nate, Flynn, and Fletcher. “We hope we’ve provided you kids with guidance and support over the years, and want you to know how much we’ve enjoyed dedicating all our time to you. Between hockey practices, music lessons, and guiding the five of you into careers you love, we have enjoyed every single moment and don’t regret a single small sacrifice.”
Charlotte turned, her face lit up by her pretty smile, and gently elbowed him. “Aw, your folks are adorable.”
As his wolf rammed against his insides, sniffing her madly, he bit back the urge to touch her. “Yeah. They’re something else.” Even as he joked, he grinned at his parents and felt a loving warmth surround him.
“And so,” Joseph continued, “we don’t feel bad today letting you know we’re now going to dedicate some time to ourselves.”
Jaws began to drop in the crowd, and Bart’s hackles went up.
Joseph looked at his wife. “Do you want to tell them, gorgeous?”
Shirley nodded like an enthusiastic puppy with a new bag of treats. She turned to the pack. “We’re touring the world! China. India. Australia. We’re gonna do it all.”
Oh, no… Bart’s heart began the slow sink into an imaginary sludge somewhere near his shoes.
“That’s right,” his dad continued. “Shirley and I have spent every waking moment with our family. We never really got a proper honeymoon. Very little private time. And as much as we regret nothing, it’s time for us to pamper ourselves a little bit.” He aimed his clear gaze at Bart and began walking toward him.
Oh, shit. No…
“And that’s why,” his father declared, “we’ve made a slightly unorthodox decision about how the pack will be run from now on. Today I’m officially handing over the reins to our son Bart. Your new Alpha.”
“Dad,” he warned in a whisper, as Charlotte scrambled away from him, her shock written in the perfect O of her mouth. “We talked about this.”
He put his hands on Bart’s arms and looked him in the eye. “No. I talked about it, and you avoided the subject. It can’t be avoided anymore. This is your destiny, Bart, and you’ll make a damn fine Alpha. You just haven’t figured it out yet.”
From somewhere in his muddle, he heard Flynn’s voice in a pissed-off whisper. “He doesn’t even want it. It should have been me.”
“Oh, go fuck yourself, Flynn,” Fletcher muttered in return. “You think you’re the only one with your eye on the prize?”
“Dad,” Bart murmured, his fists clenching at his sides. “You haven’t taken everyone into consideration. What about the cousins? What about Lena and Nate?”
They looked at his siblings who, from their narrowed eyes, weren’t overjoyed with the news either.
Joseph held his head high and spoke in a voice worthy of a Shakespearean actor. “Our decision is final. Bart is Alpha.”
With that, his dad leaned over and bowed before him, as a sign of respect and submission to the new leader. Bart’s heart raced, knowing the gesture was as good as being crowned king in their world. His mother followed, smiling and lowering her head to him.
“No,” he whispered, motioning to them with a frantic wave. “Get up. Get up. Get up!”
It only took seconds before other pack members followed. Before long, Bart stood head and shoulders above everyone in the room, with a few notable exceptions: his cousins and siblings. As much as he wished he didn’t have to play a role in this fucked up farce, it stung when he witnessed their lack of confidence in him.
Charlotte, wide-eyed and shuffling in her spot, drew his attention. Not being a pack member, he knew she must feel out of place, and her cheeks burned red to prove it. Even still, she offered him a cheeky grin, bent over at the waist with a courtly flourish and lowered her head.
Bart sucked in a breath, overcome by emotions he didn’t understand. Yes, he’d already dreamed of seeing Charlotte submit herself to him, but not quite in this manner. He rushed over to her and tugged at her arms. She raised her head, her eyes wide with surprise, and looked at him as he pulled her up once more. Once she stood erect, he touched a hand to her hair and tucked a strand behind her ear. “I won’t have you bow to me. Not you, Charles. Not like this.”
They stared at each other for a moment, and he knew something important and mysterious floated between them. Everyone else in the room seemed to disappear, and for the first time, he absorbed the burden of his new role. And more than anything, he understood the most crucial part seemed to be keeping Charlotte out of harm’s way, even if she wasn’t a pack member. He knew the others would eventually regard him as a leader, a guide. But to her, he wanted to be a hero.
A couple of days in her presence, hell, little more than hours, and he was already a goner.
She whispered to him as the pack members began to stand. “Holy fuck balls. You’re the Alpha, Bartholomew.”
Would it be wrong for an Alpha to drop in a dead faint? Because he was pretty sure it might come next on his agenda.
He didn’t want this, this spiraling of his world into what he’d always regarded as little more than a prison. How was he supposed to devote himself to his work? And how was he supposed to keep an ey
e on the Jason Burns situation if he had to spend his time chatting with pack members, making them feel nice and cozy?
But even as he resolved to get out of it somehow, the pack gathered around him, joyous smiles on their faces. They broke into applause, obviously seeing something in him he didn’t see himself, and clapped him on the back. They clearly approved his father’s choice.
All except Lena, Nate, Flynn, and Fletcher. They all huddled in a corner, glaring. His dad approached him. He eyed the others and said to Bart, “They’ll come around, son.”
“Will they?”
“Give them time. I know they’re hurting.” His lips turned up in half a grin. “But as much as it hurts, they also know not supporting the Alpha is cause for punishment. I think we can credit them with enough intelligence not to provoke you.”
As numerous family members offered congratulations, he realized he was being dragged away from Charlotte and cursed under his breath. Already his third cousin Albert wanted his opinion on a dispute with a neighbor over a borrowed garden hose. And he was pretty sure Aunt Wanda had just declared her intention to show him her ingrown toenail, in case it was infectious.
Dear Jesus, please make this go away.
And somewhere in the rabble, he saw his mom and dad lead Charlotte to the bar for a drink. Charlotte threw him a look of sympathy, her brow furrowed, the only one who seemed to care about his feelings.
Chapter 4
An hour later, Charlotte watched with a bemused expression as Bart torpedoed his way out of a huddle of pack members and made his way back to her. Poor little Alpha. She couldn’t help giggling. Even though she knew this sounded like the worst news ever to him, she also knew he was capable of rising to the challenge. He might not know it yet, but he’d be the best Alpha ever.
Which was good because she really needed someone to pry his cousins off her. While Fletcher offered to get her another drink, clearly on a quest to make her drunk and open to suggestion, Flynn pounded away at her with innuendo after innuendo.
“Anyway,” Flynn drawled, “like I said, Charlie—”
“It’s Charlotte.”
“Okay, Charlotte. If you need any repairs done around your house, I’m really good with my drill.” He laughed and tipped his beer bottle to her.
“You sure you’ve got time for drilling?” Fletcher countered with a sneer. “You know, with four illegitimate children to keep you busy.”
“Fuck you,” said Flynn.
“Oh, look,” she cried with more enthusiasm than was appropriate. “Bart’s here! Hey there, Mr. Alpha.”
He shuddered. “Please don’t call me that.” He brought his beer to his mouth, clutching the neck so hard she expected it to shatter. He leaned against the wall, away from where his cousins argued, and she stood next to him, bumping her shoulder against his.
“Threw you for a loop, huh?”
“You could say that.” He stared at his beer.
“Bart,” she said quietly, placing a hand on his sleeve, his warmth electrifying her fingertips. “You’ll be amazing.”
He looked at her hand and then at her. As he stared, his gaze fell to her lips and he wet his own. His mouth curled in a flirty smile. “Maybe if you say it over and over, I’ll believe it.”
“Oh, please. You have enough women fawning over you. You don’t need me.”
His expression darkened and the smile disappeared. As her discomfort grew, her thighs clenched, as if warning her not to linger too long with the new Alpha. His smoldering looks did nothing good for her sanity, and she really wanted to retain what little she had left. She dragged her gaze away.
Flynn chose that moment to return, with yet another beer in his hands. She’d lost count about how many he’d already consumed, but knew the number neared the double digits now. He said, “Hey, Charlie. Can I have a minute with Alpha man?”
She tensed, not liking his tone. “Okay.” She stepped aside, but remained within hearing distance. She watched as his cousin whispered in Bart’s ear and as Bart’s lips compressed.
“No,” Bart said to him, definitive in his tone.
“That’s it? Just no?”
“You heard me.”
“But…but you’re the Alpha now. It’s your job to help out pack members.”
“Flynn, my friend,” Bart said. “I know for a fact my parents gave you a ton of money not too long ago. That’s going to stop now that I’m in charge. You have a good business with your brother and you need to make your own way in the world.”
“That’s so easy for you to say. You never had to struggle.”
Bart flinched, as if he’d slapped him. “You know nothing about my struggles.”
“I just need a little bit to tide me over.”
“I said no. You can’t go around accepting handouts all your life. I thought Fletcher was teaching you how to manage your finances.”
Flynn scowled. “He is, but I made some bad investments.”
“Or spent it all at the track?”
It was Flynn’s turn to look as if he’d been hit. He shouted, “None of your damn business! You just think you’re better than me because you’re the son of an Alpha. Well, my dad would have been twice the Alpha your dad was. And I would be twice the Alpha you are.”
Whoa. Conversation all over the pub halted. Charlotte watched as all heads turned toward the feuding cousins.
Bart’s upper lip took on a dangerous curl. “That sounded strangely like a threat, cuz.”
Flynn let out a laugh laced with strange malignance, and Charlotte swore she glimpsed his wolf, its tail upright, its teeth bared. She almost heard a growl in Flynn’s laughter. But as soon as he spied the threat in Bart’s eyes, Flynn made his excuses and tore away out of the pub.
His brother Fletcher approached, his head lower than it had been all night, but still nowhere near offering the respect he should. “Ignore him, Bart. He’s had too much to drink tonight.”
“And you?” Bart asked in a quiet voice. “Is that your excuse, too?”
Fletcher reddened. “I’m sorry, but I have to be honest. I’m not sure I’m ready to call you Alpha, Bart.”
The two wolf men stared each other down, and Charlotte couldn’t tell what sorts of emotions sizzled between them but knew they were verging on the volatile. Fletcher’s eyes grew narrower by the second and Bart clenched his fists, as if ready for a fight. Luckily, Fletcher hurried off, no doubt to chase down his inebriated brother.
Charlotte hurried to Bart’s side, noting how surprisingly white his face had become. “Hey, are you okay?”
Lost in thought for a moment, Bart didn’t respond, but he finally acknowledged her with a nod. “Sure.”
The downward slope of his normally bright eyes told her he hurt. And for some reason, the vibes rolling off him seemed amplified and distorted by the time they got to her. Her skin itched. The nerves in her neck pinched. Her tongue tasted like sulfur. His pain seemed to do terrible things to her, made her want to reach for an Alka-Seltzer.
“You would have been within your rights to discipline them, you know.” She twitched her lips up in an encouraging grin, trying to alleviate the shocking tension in the air.
His eyes warmed and the color returned to his face as he grinned back at her. “Funny.” He considered Fletcher’s retreating form. “No, I’m going to bide my time. Even though my cousins can be asses, I feel sort of sorry for them.”
His mom sidled over and gripped his arm. “You have no reason to feel bad about how those boys turned out. When your uncle died, your father and I took them under our wing and made sure they wanted for nothing. They were given all the advantages we gave to you, Nate, and Lena. Bart, don’t you dare feel sorry for them.”
He gazed at his mother. “You’re right.” He leaned over, ruffled her hair, and kissed her. With an air of unease, like someone who hated making speeches, he then offered the assembled pack members an awkward smile. “Everyone, please have fun. Forget this ever happened. Let’s go back to eatin
g and drinking.”
There were a few “hear, hears” and the other pack members returned to their cocktails and conversation. Bart frowned at her, as a nagging sense of unease sprouted inside her like a fungus. She hated that his new role already proved trying, and found she was already envisioning ways to make it feel better for him.
Because clearly she’d evolved into a glutton for punishment, and she seemed to be in the mood for a whole lot of gluttony.
*
Bart tried to clear his head of familial crap and returned his attentions to Charlotte. She frowned at the floor, deep in thought. He tugged at her shirt sleeve, smiling. “Hey, sorry you had to see my family at its worst. You should see us at weddings and funerals.”
She looked up and took a dainty sip from her beer, leaving a sweet film on her luscious lips. He swallowed and forced his gaze back to her eyes.
“What’s up with your douchebag cousins anyway?”
“How long you got, Charles?”
She laughed out loud, breaking some of the tension. “You know, strangely enough, Charles is growing on me. Just please don’t call me Charlie like Flynn did.” She punched him playfully in the arm and he let her, relishing any kind of physical contact with her. “Well, as it happens, I have time, so spill.”
He nodded and led her away. Grabbing another beer from the bar on their way out, Bart pulled her into the hallway leading to the coatroom. It was quiet there, and they could talk without a pack member squirreling him away to give opinions on how Bart should lead. He leaned against one wall, took a long drink from his bottle, and set the bottle on the ground. She did the same with hers. For a moment, he just crossed his arms and looked at her.
To mimic him, she crossed her arms and stared at him, with a faux-intense look on her face.
“You do need discipline, you know that?” he threatened, suddenly more than willing to dole it out.
Her pale eyes grew impossibly dark in the coatroom, so dark he could swear someone had snuck in behind them and dimmed the lights. The aura around her changed, and he caught a whiff of delectable female perfume. Was it desire? He wanted to fall to his knees, bury his face in her crotch and find out for sure.
