Lone Wolf (A Breed MC Book Book 4)

by Anne Marsh

I take a step back from the bed. This isn’t getting any easier. Not like I’m precisely feeling calm and collected, either, because my mate’s looking at me like she thinks I’m crazy. Not sure what the fuck I expected her to say or do, but I guess part of me was hoping we’d get ourselves some kind of fairytale ending where she squeals I love furries! And then we’d get back to the business of making love and living happily ever after. Fuck, we’d probably make time for her to tell me that she loves me, and I’d figure out a way to give her those words right back.

  “A shifter?” She blinks at me like I’m speaking Greek.

  “I’m a wolf.”

  Her mouth parts, but I’m done with words. I shift. I shuck my human skin, slipping into the wolf’s. I’ve been told it doesn’t sound so good to outsiders, what with the bones crunching and shit reforming, but for me it’s an easy sideways step from one part of me to another, as simple as choosing to step off a path and into wild, waist-high grass. The wolf fucking loves his freedom. He stretches, and I let the man go for just a moment. I put a paw on the bed and whine. Let us in.

  Poppy yells, scrambling backward on the bed. Her face flushes as her breath catches. I see fear and adrenaline in her eyes, and her T-shirt pulls over her tits, sliding up her stomach as she launches herself off the bed. Something lands with a crash; she’s pushed over a stack of books on the bedside table. This isn’t a great start on our happily-ever-after.

  I stalk toward her, trying to get closer. It’s like some kind of fucked up dance. She retreats, I push forward, trying to back her up against the wall. To make her let me get close again. Feels wrong, the same way it did when I shut down her research. This should be Poppy’s choice. It will be Poppy’s choice. She has to call the shots here.

  Booted feet pound up the stairs, and then Fang slams open the door. “The fuck?” he bellows. He’s got his gun and his knife out, his eyes sweeping the room as he pulls my Poppy behind him. The wolf hates that as much as I do. We both growl, even though we know that our brother just has our mate’s back and that’s a good thing.

  “He’s a wolf,” she shrieks at Fang. “How is that possible?”

  The way she grabs Fang’s shoulders, she doesn’t expect an answer. She’s yanking him toward the door.

  “You’ve got to calm down, honey.” Fang tucks the gun away in the waistband of his jeans.

  “Are you crazy?” Her voice veers between panicked and outraged, her eyes glued to the casual movements of his hands as he stores his weapon. She hasn’t connected the dots yet, hasn’t figured out why a wolf in the bedroom isn’t bothering Fang. But she will. Poppy’s smart. Part of that’s the scientist in her, but most of it is just how she’s made. Fuck, but I love her.

  Letting another male put his hands on my mate is wrong. My mate. The wolf doesn’t like the space between us and hates the way Fang’s scent fills the room. It wants to charge toward Poppy, to push her back onto the bed, and make Fang acknowledge who she belongs to.

  “I know he’s a wolf,” Fang says. “He’s not gonna hurt you.”

  “You can’t know that,” Poppy protests. Her eyes keep dancing toward me, and I see the way she’s inching toward the door. She wants out.

  “Can,” Fang says.

  “How?”

  Fang’s a loyal son-of-a-bitch. He doesn’t hesitate. “Because I’m one, too.”

  Poppy makes a strangled sound and sort of sways on her feet. Fang looks uncomfortable, but he grabs her, steadying her. Since I’ve made my point and Fang’s just hammered it home, I shift back and grab my jeans. She’s not gonna want to have this conversation with my dick hanging out. Plus, I can’t be naked around her and not want to fuck her, so I need to make sure we get the talking done.

  Poppy sits down on the side of the bed hard.

  “Gonna give you the short version.” I think about sitting down beside her, but she doesn’t look too welcoming, so I settle for leaning against the wall. Fang slips away while I’m yanking on my boots. He’ll have our backs.

  “You’re a wolf.” Her eyes narrow. Poppy’s smart, and she’s catching up fast. “Were you the wolf I spotted out in the bayou?”

  “Yes.” I think about trying to minimize what she knows, but we’ve gone beyond that. “But those tracks you spotted out in the bayou? Pretty sure that was T.D. and his boys. T.D.’s a wanna-be Alpha shifter who’s been building himself a new pack out in Rose Bayou.”

  “Fang’s a wolf too,” she says slowly. “How many of you are there?”

  “About forty.” I shrug. “In our pack.”

  “Your pack,” she says slowly.

  “The Breed MC.” That’s me—Mr. Really Fucking Helpful.

  “This is—” She stops, clearly out of words.

  “Complicated,” I admit. “I’m sorry to blindside you like this, but you need to know.”

  I suddenly have a whole new empathy for T.D. and his attempts to recruit a pack. Guess T.D. got sick of being alone, too, and he’s done what he can to fix the problem and make himself a place where he fits. I’m still going to kick his ass the next time I see him, but I might also tell him that I get it because I don’t want to be alone anymore, either. But you can’t make someone stay. I think there’s a fucking song about that, some whiney, fucking country song that plays over and over in dive bars while men like me get drunk as shit and wonder where we went wrong. Except that I know.

  I’m a lone wolf, and I forgot that for a handful of days.

  If I don’t belong with Poppy, I’m not sure I belong anywhere.

  Poppy

  I’m having… a pup?

  Everything I know spins like a Tilt-A-Whirl, knocking me off-balance. Good thing I’ve got the bed beneath me because I can feel myself going down. And of course Gator’s right there with me, his arms closing around me and controlling my landing. We’ve curled up here more than once, either before or after he’d had his way with me (or me with him—Gator’s all about equal opportunity fucking). Funny how the room still seems so normal and familiar. Just everyday pillows, sheets, and blankets—and, oh yeah, a werewolf. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry about that one.

  A werewolf.

  Gator braces himself on top of me. He’s careful—there’s no pressure on Bean. Shit—what kind of baby am I going to have? The doctor had mentioned anomalies in my blood work, and then there’d been that strange moment at the ultrasound when our baby seemed to sort of flicker in and out of being. I think about the possibility of having a wolf baby, while Gator watches me carefully. Does he expect this to be happy news?

  “You got questions, ask.” He draws my hands up over my head, one big hand lightly shackling my wrists. “You want to know something, I’ll tell you what I can. Not too many humans know about the pack. Not like you can go figure us out in a library or something.”

  I should be all over the facts he’s spewing, because facts and science are my bread and butter, but exactly what I’m carrying takes top priority.

  “I’m going to give birth to a pup.”

  Nope. Those words sound just as crazy said out loud as they do inside my head.

  “Shifter,” Gator corrects. “From the looks of that ultrasound, baby’s gonna take after me and have a wolf form. Don’t suppose you can think of it as kind of a bonus?”

  “Like a free gift with purchase?” I ask.

  Gator gives me a tight smile. “Merry fucking Christmas.”

  In some ways I appreciate the levity. Once I have a chance to really think this through, I suspect I’m going to freak out. I mean, I don’t even want to know what a werewolf birth entails. Is it like some bad science fiction horror flick where the alien chews its way out of the poor human’s belly? Will my baby come out with teeth and a tail?

  “Werewolves can’t exist,” I say. “You’re like a bad sitcom. Will a vampire come through my window next?”

  Gator’s face softens a little, but his body remains tense. It’s like he’s just waiting for me to do something. Not sure what I can do, to b
e honest. “No vampires. Not today.”

  He doesn’t say they don’t exist.

  Fuck. Me.

  “So Bean’s like you.”

  He doesn’t try to avoid my gaze. “Probably.”

  “I’m going to have a wolf-baby?” My voice sounds a little hysterical, but I think I’m justified. The whole unexpected pregnancy thing was hard enough to deal with, but now my baby turns out to be a shapeshifter. Pretty sure What to Expect When You’re Expecting doesn’t have a chapter on cross-species pregnancies. What will he look like? More importantly, how will he act? Will the terrible twos be even worse when my kiddo can sprout fur and a tail?

  “Poppy.” There’s something in the way he says my name. It sounds familiar, but this man above me? I don’t know him. He’s not the man I’ve held and loved. That first day in the bayou when I ran my boat into his and he fished me out of the water, he scared me. Then he’d demanded I trade him a week of my life for the right to carry out my research on his land. And I’d thought I’d seen a hidden side of him then, a part of Gator that not too many people, if any, got to see. I thought I’d seen a man I could love.

  But he’s not a man, is he?

  He’s a wolf and a liar and a cheat. Not only did he destroy my funding and tamper with my field research, but he lied to me. I told him that I wanted no secrets between us and he didn’t disagree.

  I don’t know who he is.

  “Get off,” I tell him. And then when he doesn’t budge, I tug hard at my hands. “I’m done here.”

  Gator

  “I’m not.” I brace myself above her. “Not done with you. Don’t see how I could ever be.”

  “You lied to me. I think it would be better if you left now.” Her eyes snap, promising the hellfire and brimstone I deserve. She’s not wrong, but I can’t make myself leave, not now. Not if there’s any chance at redemption and a second chance. My place is with her, and if she doesn’t understand that, I need to make her see the truth.

  Or maybe not.

  “You have to know this can’t work,” she announces. She’s not wrong. I’m a liar and a bad man, and this has to be about what she wants. Not me. I roll off her and shove to my feet.

  “Just hear me out, okay?” I say as she glares up at me. “I know I’ve kept secrets from you. We can argue semantics about whether or not I flat-out lied, but what I did was wrong. Nothing I can do about that now, but I had orders from my president and I did what was right by the club. It was also wrong by you. I hope that maybe you can find it in yourself to forgive me, maybe forget the shit I’ve screwed up. Think you can do that for me?”

  Poppy sits upright so fast that her tits bounce beneath her shirt. “You think it’s that easy?”

  “Honestly?” I can’t hold back a smile. Fuck, but she’s gorgeous when she’s pissed at me. “No. But a man can hope, sweetheart.”

  She makes a scoffing noise—kind of like a pin puncturing that whole balloon of hope thing I’ve got going on. “Hope is not a strategy.”

  “Yeah, but I’ve got a plan, too.”

  “What?” She crosses her arms over her chest. And since getting anywhere near her with a weapon is likely to end with her killing me and Fang having a hell of a clean up job on his hands, I step away for a second to strip off my knives and my gun and set them on top of the dresser by the door.

  “I might want those,” she says slowly.

  “You want to make me hurt?”

  “And if I say yes?”

  “You don’t need a blade or a bullet to make me bleed for you.” I cross the room so that I’m back by her side. And then I drop down on my knees. “You tell me to go and really mean it, I’m gonna bleed. I may have rammed your canoe that day we met because I had orders to stop you from investigating the wolves you’d found—” her indignant curse reminds me that I hadn’t shared that little nugget of truth with her—“but I kept you because I wanted you. I’m not good at figuring out feelings or being romantic, but here’s the truth. These weeks we’ve had together have been the best of my life. I miss you when you’re not by my side.”

  “You kidnapped me,” she points out. “You destroyed my boat, my research, and my career.”

  “I did,” I admit. “Like I said, I had my reasons. Club reasons. I thought that shit had to come first.”

  “And now?”

  “Now I’m on my knees.”

  “And?”

  “And I’m begging you for a chance,” I growl. “I don’t know what you’re thinking, but I know you’re the woman for me, and I can’t just give up on the possibility of us being together. Don’t ask me to walk away from you and our baby because I’m not strong enough to do that.” I would if she needed me to, and that is the truth. I think we both know that. “I’m no fucking poet, so this isn’t gonna be pretty or dressed up any, but I love you. Doesn’t mean you have to love me back or give me that chance, but I’d really fucking appreciate it if you thought about it.”

  Poppy’s not a wolf, but part of me is and always will be. I lower myself in front of her, sliding my arms on either side of her as I rest my head on her thighs and expose my throat. I’m down on my knees. Open. Vulnerable. She stares down at me, and I have no idea what’s going through her head. If this can work. If I still have a shot at heaven.

  “You love me,” she repeats softly.

  “I do.” I’ve got no clue what she’s gonna decide about us, so I just breathe her in, my body trying not to crowd hers but wanting to be close at the same time. Christ, we just fit together like the last two pieces in a puzzle. Not sure how she can’t feel it, too, but that’s her call.

  “No more lies,” she whispers. “No more secrets. Not ever, Gator.”

  “If I can’t tell you something because it’s club business, I’ll make that clear,” I warn. “I can’t promise to tell you everything, but I can promise you this. You’ll always come first for me. The Bean will be second, and the club comes third. You feel me?”

  “I do.” She nods her head.

  I press my mouth against her thigh because I need to touch her or die. “You gonna let me up? Or do I have to spend the rest of the night on my knees?”

  Because I’ve got no fucking problem with staying right here. I’ll wait as long as it takes for her to say yes. Funny how the most important fight of my life doesn’t involve fists or guns or even blades… and yet it feels like someone’s digging my heart out one lonely inch at a time.

  I tilt my head back so I can look into her eyes. “I love you. No matter what happens between us, nothing changes that. I’ll always be here for you.”

  “On your knees?” Her voice is soft.

  “If that’s what it takes. You’re everything for me. You’re all I want, and I’m gonna be whatever, whoever you need me to be, and Christ I hope it’s enough for you to think about keeping me in your life. I want us together, whether it’s here in your place, or out in the bayou on the island because whatever I have is yours and we both know that.”

  “I don’t want you on your knees.”

  “Tell me what you need and it’s yours.”

  She stares at me. Fuck. Are those tears in her eyes? Or maybe it’s something in mine. Fuck if I know. Fuck if…

  “Come here.” She tugs at my shoulders and I move. She’s still finishing her sentence when I roll her beneath me on the bed. No. Wait. Since I need to look out for Number Two in my life, I twist until she’s straddling me. Looking down at me, inside me. She plants her palms over my heart.

  “I love you,” she says.

  “Thank fuck,” I growl right before I pull her down on top of me so her heart’s touching mine just like it should. Like I’ve dreamed of every night and most of the goddamned days since I first saw her.

  Poppy

  My new baby is huge.

  Comparatively speaking, if you know what I mean.

  My phone buzzes, and I pat Baby gently as I step back. I’m not entirely sure I’m ready for this as I answer Gator’s call.

&
nbsp; “You almost here?” he asks.

  “It’s time already?”

  “Yeah,” he says. “So get your cute ass over here to the clubhouse.”

  Gator sounds relaxed. In the two months since he pledged his undying love for me, he’s been as good as his word and then some. He still hasn’t kicked his habit of barking out orders, but I’m working on him. I figure he might actually be housebroken in another fifty years or so. Fortunately, I love him, rough edges and all, and since he really seems to get off on hearing it, I make a point of telling him daily.

  “Love you,” I say, inching back toward Baby, who hasn’t gotten any smaller or more familiar in the last few seconds. But I’m doing this. I’m absolutely, one hundred percent doing this. “I’ll see you in about ten minutes. Maybe twenty.”

  “I’ll be waiting. Promise to make it worth your while,” he growls in that rough, low voice that makes my panties melt. He seems to feel I need constant incentivizing to stay happy and stay with him—and since those incentives start with kissing and lead to the nearest bed, wall, bathroom, or woodsy spot, I shouldn’t complain. I have a fuckhot biker of my very own who thinks I’m the sexiest thing ever.

  Except… I love my fuckhot biker, and he still thinks he’s not enough.

  “You’re missing the point,” I tell him.

  “That so?”

  “I don’t need incentives,” I whisper. “All I need is you. You’re enough, Gator. This is about us and how we feel about each other, not about earning a spot in each other’s hearts. You’re my everything now.”

  There’s a long pause. I wish I could see his face, hold him tight, and show him how much I mean those words because they’re so true. He is my everything, and I’d never, ever change that—even if we’re making room for Bean.

  “Poppy…”

  “I love you. Not what you do for me. Although I do enjoy that stuff too,” I admit. You know—in the spirit of being honest and not keeping secrets.

  “I love you, too,” he growls. “Please come over here so I can tell you that while I’m holding you, okay? Might be part show, part tell, but it’s all yours. I’m all yours.”