Ain't Misbehavin'

by M. L. Briers

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  ~

  By the time that Alf reached the house, there was his sister, the vampire, Joy, and his mate. There was the scent of guilt in the air, and his mate seemed to be looking anywhere but at him.

  “You’re a little wet,” Alf said, cocking an eyebrow at the vampire, and getting a snort back in return.

  “That one dumped me in the lake…” he motioned to Harper and Alf tried to hold onto his amusement.

  “He need deodorizing as well?” Alf asked.

  “Funny you should mention it,” Harper shrugged.

  “So you ran off?”

  “Drove…” Harper said.

  “In a golf cart,” Joy chipped in, but one steely glance from Alf made her bite down on the rest of her words, and look anywhere but at him.

  “You have no intention of seeing if this could work…forget it,” he waved those thoughts away. “I need a drink.” He stalked off toward the house.

  “Do you know what happens when a male doesn’t woo his mate?” Virginia’s tone was accusing.

  She could see by the grimace on the witch’s face that she knew the answer to that. She grunted and stalked away.

  “She’s right,” Karl said.

  “I know,” Harper bit down on her words.

  “Well, as the pack is willing to entertain the thought of having witches, shouldn’t the witches at least try entertaining the thought of having true love?”

  Harper opened her mouth to speak, but what could she say? I don’t want a lifelong commitment to a man that I’m going to be head over heels in love with and who would kill himself to make me happy? She pressed her lips together again.

  “He’s right,” Joy leaned in and whispered.

  “Would everyone please stop telling me that everyone but me is right?” Harper muttered, taking off for the house and the promise of a stiff drink that lay beyond those walls.

  ~

  ~

  ~

  Darby huffed as she dropped down against the hardwood chair in the garden. Her escape plan had failed, and now she was at a loss as to how to achieve her aim of getting away from pack land before Brogan managed to follow her trail and turned up in town.

  Finding a mate had never even been a consideration for her, and the fact that it had been written into her stars had taken her completely by surprise and knocked her off kilter.

  The longer that she spent with Kent, the more likely that the man would lean towards going rogue when she left – maybe she should have let him challenge the alpha – it may have been a kinder fate.

  The sight of her mate’s naked, hard body caught her attention in more ways than one. He might have been giving her the stink eye as he stalked towards the house, but it wasn’t his expression that she was paying much attention to as every muscle moved beneath his skin and her womb did a happy dance while her blood pressure reached for the sky.

  “I can’t believe you threw me down a well,” he grumbled. The depth of his tone did little to ease her blood pressure if anything; it jarred other places to life.

  “I can’t believe you got out so fast,” she tossed back, folding her arms and shoring up her internal defenses against the man.

  “I can’t believe you stole Alf’s truck…”

  “In my defense, I didn’t know whose truck it was…”

  “And the wiper thing?” he grumbled on an underlying growl. He hated it when his beast was caught out like that, and he was never going to live that down with his brothers.

  “Challenging the alpha, your brother was a bad idea,” she snapped back.

  “You don’t think I could take him…?”

  “I don’t think you really wanted to try. Not deep down.”

  “That’s probably true,” he grumbled. He had no interest in being the alpha to the pack. He respected Alf’s leadership, and he loved his brother. His beast had just gotten a little testy. “But still…”

  “I think you should be thanking me,” Darby said, and the look that he gave her said it all – she was nuts. But she needed to keep her hardass attitude up, or risk being found out as a fraud.

  “For tossing me down a well and running off?” he snorted his contempt for that idea.

  “For saving your beast from his bad mood hissy fit.”

  “I…” Kent bit down on that one.

  The woman was insane, a nightmare, and he wondered how he was ever going to woo a woman who was a little cuckoo.

  “Can’t bring yourself to do it, can you?” she teased. He was on the back foot, and she wanted to keep him there.

  She’d tried and failed to get away. She’d thrown the other two witches to the wolves – literally – even if it was for their own good.

  Being a mate and finding true love was way better than being dead, and if Brogan had managed to follow her, then that was a possibility.

  “I need to get dressed…” he growled, and she almost popped the question of – why – out loud instead of only thinking it. “You’re coming with me.”

  “I’m not good with that. I’m not your prisoner, I’m not your plaything, and you’re certainly not the boss of me…”

  “I never said you were any of those things,” he growled back, “but you are my mate, and damn it to hell, I have to try to woo your crazy ass before I give in and let you walk out of my life.”

  Kent looked as if he’d said too much, but Darby’s heart leaped into her throat at his words. Maybe if things had of been different then she might have let her defenses down, but they weren’t – Brogan was on the hunt for her because he was insane because she looked like his sister or some such nonsense.

  The man was drawn to the scent of her blood, and she wasn’t going to be lunch, dinner, and supper. Neither was she bringing a killing machine to the pack’s front door.

  “You’re fighting a losing battle,” Darby said, looking anywhere but at him because she didn’t want to acknowledge the reaction that her words might have caused.

  “Well, it’s my battle to win or lose.” Kent bit back, knowing that she might be right.

  His tough as nails mate might just be walking out of his life sometime soon, but at least he would know that he’d tried his damnedest to keep her.

  “Go right ahead…”

  “I will…” he snapped back.

  “Butthead…”

  “With relish.”

  “That makes no sense.”

  “I don’t give a damn.”

  “Bully for you.”

  “I’m…grrrr.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

  ~

  “A golf cart?” Alf said when Harper walked into the living room and eyed the bottled of Scotch in his hand like a sailor on shore leave.

  “I couldn’t find a broom,” Harper shot back with a nod to the tempting fiery liquid that he held in his tight grip. “Feel like sharing?”

  “Sure, I’m going to eat the next person that pisses me off,” he offered back with a small quirk of his lips at the thought.

  “Okay, butthead, feel like sharing the Scotch?”

  “You can’t handle this,” he said with a small shake of his head.

  “Oh, a challenge,” she grinned back.

  “Fine.” He shrugged his shoulders and poured her a decent sized glass. Not that he thought she’d get past the first sip.

  Harper’s fingers brushed his when she reached for the glass that he offered to her, and it surprised the hell out of him when she didn’t pull back from his touch. He’d expected her to react to that touch and had kept a firm hold on the glass so that it didn’t drop, so much so that they had a little tug of war thing going on.

  “It’s that hard for you to share?” Harper teased, and the light of amusement in her eyes coupled with the smile that graced her lips kept him momentarily spellbound.

  “Huh?”

  Alf’s body had reacted to her touch, and his hard length was beating against his jeans to be set free. His beast had risen up within him, ready t
o claim her, and he might even have been drooling on his chin for all he knew.

  “If you want it that badly just give me the bottle, and I’ll pour my own,” Harper said and watched as he blinked hard and snapped out of the trance he seemed to be caught in.

  Of course, she’d felt something at the contact between them as well. A run of tingles had raced up her arm and across her skin as their fingers had met.

  Her womb had welcomed that touch, and her stomach had been swarmed by bat-poop crazy butterflies all getting their happy dance on. She really didn’t want to acknowledge the fact that her nipples felt as tight as if she’d plunged them into a snow cone, and she just hoped that he didn’t notice that they were aimed at him like heat-seeking missiles.

  Alf found the strength, if not the inclination, to let go of the glass. He wanted that feeling of skin on skin.

  His length might have been harder than steel, and there was a desperate ache for her, but he wasn’t about to toss her down on the rug and bury his cock to the hilt. No damn way.

  Baby steps. He reminded his beast, and the wolf grumbled in annoyance. His wolf wanted the claim to be made on their life mate, and only then would it truly relax its grip on him.

  When Harper tossed the fiery liquid down the back of her throat in one, he half expected her to melt into a breathless heap on the floor at his feet. She didn’t. Her eyes narrowed, she took a hard breath in and swallowed down on the flames inside of her, but a heartbeat later and she was fine.

  “That’s good,” she said, breathing out what felt like molten lava as she held the glass out for a refill.

  “You win,” Alf chuckled.

  “It’s not about winning; it’s how you play the game. You see me as breakable because I’m human, and I do break easier than you, and take longer to mend, but I’m still stronger than you’d ever give me credit for.”

  Alf took a long moment to consider her words.

  “And you’re female,” Alf said, which caused her to roll her eyes back in her head.

  “Excuse me for not being able to lift giant boulders with my brute strength, but giving birth to my uterus isn’t something I want to experience,” she tossed back the refill.

  “You’re female, so my DNA tells me to protect you. You say, caveman; I say men should put themselves in harm’s way first.”

  “What about the times when I can save you – even if only from your ego?”

  “That works for me,” he grinned and watched her eyes narrow on him.

  “Really?” she asked, surprised by his attitude. She wasn’t sure if he was just soothing her ego or not.

  “I’m man enough to know my limitations…”

  “If you say cooking and shopping…” she warned him.

  “That would be funny if only to see your face. You get this sour lemon look…” he chuckled, and when she raised her eyebrows, he snapped it off. “But, sadly, no. I don’t have magic, so I would bow to your experience in that department.”

  “You’d stand back and let me go head to head with a Warlock?”

  “I can’t guarantee I wouldn’t jump in front of you if he tossed a thunderbolt in your direction…”

  “Thunderbolt? Someone’s been watching Thor…”

  “You know Thor…?”

  “Not personally, but who wouldn’t say no to a meeting?” She giggled at the look on his face. “I see that sour lemon look and raise you green with jealousy. In fact, you look a little like the Hulk right now.”

  “Not Loki?” he tossed back.

  “Nobody looks like Loki,” she said and wiggled her eyebrows at him.

  Alf muttered something under his breath, and she couldn’t hear it, but she did get the general gist.

  “How am I so different from Thor?” he grumbled.

  “You seriously want me to give you a list. I mean, don’t you feel bad enough already?” She tried not to giggle, but it didn’t work. The Scotch had loosened up her funny bone.

  “That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” he grumbled back.

  “True, but a girl has to get in her cheap shots where she can.” He grunted at her. “Thor has no problem accepting women as his equals…”

  “He treats his woman differently…”

  “That’s because she’s a pussy, and totally undeserving of a man like him in my opinion.” She shrugged.

  “Meow…” he muttered.

  “But women warriors…”

  “You hardly wield a sword…”

  “I have magic, it’s far more effective, and keeps me out of arm’s reach,” she turned her chin up in defiance of his words.

  “True,” he said, considering her words as if they were in the bottom of his glass. “Fine, we’re equals…”

  “Really?” She scowled.

  “If you don’t count the fact that I’m the alpha and what I say goes…”

  “Ha!” She snorted.

  “Thor is in charge…”

  “We both agreed that you’re not Thor. I think your reach is still exceeding your grasp on that one,” she tossed back and watched him mull that one over. He grunted.

  CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

  ~

  “You started off with a scowl; then you turned it into a smile, now you’re back to a frown — I must be doing something wrong,” Clark said.

  “I was just thinking about that whole golf cart thing,” Joy said.

  “That whole, you trying to escape the clutches of your evil mate, thing,” Clark offered back. “Oh, now we’re back to a scowl again.”

  “It was wrong,” Joy admitted. “I shouldn’t have run like that, I guess I got caught up in the moment, but it’s not about that — it about you.”

  “I’m scary,” Clark couldn’t help but grin, and the sight of his sexy grin made her return the favor.

  He liked her smile. He certainly liked it better than when she was scowling at him.

  “Not so much.”

  “But I can be.”

  “I’m sure that’s true. But then I’m your mate, so I’m never going to see that side of you.”

  “That’s true,” Clark said. “With you, I’m always going to be…”

  “A teddy bear?” It wasn’t just the smile on her lips anymore, there was laughter in her eyes as well.

  “I don’t think that’s possible.” Clark’s beast grumbled a groan at her slur.

  “A pussycat?”

  “Now you really are pushing the limits of possibility. I’m all Wolf, sweetheart.”

  He puffed up his chest, and she could see the pride within him, she liked that. She felt the same way about being a witch. It was a secret that she had to keep from the rest of the world, but at least with him, she could be herself.

  She’d also liked that he’d called her sweetheart. Nobody had ever called her a sweet name before, and on his lips, it sounded as sexy as hell. It had flared a rush of excitement within her and made her feel a little gooey inside.

  Joy never really had a serious boyfriend, and now she was a mate. She’d gotten everything that she’d thought about for a while now — a real relationship without the uncertainty going in seemed a lot scarier than she had given it credit for. She thought it would be easier, but everything came with its own set of problems.

  She was a witch, and he was a shifter both of those things came with baggage attached to them. Then there was a whole pack dynamic thing, and Joy had to wonder if she could fit into that world.

  Harper was a mate, but she seemed less likely to jump in and take the plunge. What if Harper chose to leave the alpha?

  “You’re thinking, and thinking is never a good thing,” Clark said.

  “How is thinking never a good thing?” Joy asked with a slight catch of a chuckle in her voice.

  “Thinking leads to inaction, and inaction leads to not going forward, and I want this to go forward with us,” Clark said.

  “I was thinking about Harper leaving…”

  “She’s not going anywhere…”

 
; “Maybe not right now…”

  “Ever. She’s a mate…”

  “She’s Harper,” Joy wasn’t convinced.

  “Let my brother worry about Harper. He can be very — persuasive,” Clark said.

  “I’m not sure if that statement should freak me out, or not.”

  Clark chuckled. His mate certainly wasn’t like the other witches, and for that he was grateful.

  “Not.”

  “Cool.” She shrugged.

  She trusted Clark, as strange as that might have sounded to her before, but he was her mate, and that gave him a big boost in the reliability scale in her opinion, and she just had a feeling in her bones about him.

  “That’s it?”

  “Sure.” She set her eyes on him. “Why, are you lying?”

  “Nope.”

  “There you go then.” She shrugged once more.

  “You know for a witch; you’re not very witch-like?”

  “Oh?”

  “Too trusting.”

  “I’ll make a mental note to be skeptical in future.” She smiled again, and his heart leaped.

  “So, can we move onto us now?” Clark asked, wondering just how that had seemed easier than he’d expected, maybe too easy.

  “There’s an us?” She stared at him open-mouthed, and Clarke was thrown.

  “Huh?”

  “Gotcha!” She chuckled.

  “Oh, thank God, I thought you might have been a little…” he winced.

  “Cuckoo?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “I get that a lot,” she teased him, and his mouth moved, but he didn’t say anything. Then she chuckled again. “It’s like shooting fish in a barrel.”

  “I’ll try to make it harder for you,” he chuckled.

  “If you could that would be great.”

  “You are a little…”

  “Strange?”

  “I don’t want to say strange…”

  “Very strange?”

  “Kooky sounds nicer.”

  “I like that,” Joy chuckled. “I’m kooky.”

  “Yep.” Clark chuckled.

  ~