Sierra hopped out, hiding her wince as she kept her palm pressed tightly to the slices refusing to clot. The tan towel turned into full-blown period horror mode, a growing splash of red that wouldn’t come out anytime soon. Dax sauntered to the front of the house, keys jangling in his hand with his steady strides. He cast a glance at her, those blue eyes flashing with concern again.
“Come on in,” he called as he fiddled with the door. She walked up the steps behind him, his tight, muscled ass on full display.
“Is this where you invite me in for a drink?” she asked, unable to help the grin curling her lips.
He cocked a brow, a rich smile returning to his face. “Sure, if that means you’ll be joining me in bed later.”
Even as irritation warmed her chest, it mingled with a heat spreading between her legs. He entered the cabin, and she followed, eager to clean and bandage her wound. The musk of cedar descended the second she stepped in, from the carved table and chairs in the center of the expansive gathering room to his kitchen countertops. An assortment of bowls cluttered his sink, and a couple of jagged hunting knives dried on a towel along the countertop.
Overhead, a lighting fixture framed by antlers accented the woodsy home, and more than a couple of woolen blankets draped along the tan futon and long chestnut couch stretching the length of the back wall. Dax disappeared into one of the side rooms while she wandered over to the couch, hoping the dark fabric wouldn’t collect the stains her towel had. She assumed he wasn’t dicking around in there and had snagged some bandages. Despite the act he put on, Dax proved to be a lot smarter than most might give him credit for.
He emerged from his room, arms laden with gauze, antiseptic, and a crumpled ball of clothing. He’d tossed on a pair of loose flannel pants but hadn’t bothered with a shirt. Not like she minded. Blood trickled from his scratches, but he swiped his side, making the liquid smear across his skin, as he took a seat on the ottoman in front of her.
“Take off your towel,” he said, unscrewing the antiseptic. He then tossed the ball of clothing on the couch beside her, a grin lighting his face. “You can join us civilized folks once you listen, like a good girl.”
Sierra ground her teeth, her hands balling into fists and the urge to punch him rising. His gaze darkened for a microsecond, telltale of more brewing beneath the surface with him than the flirty persona he presented.
“Pass over the antiseptic and I’ll do it myself,” Sierra challenged.
He shook his head. “I got you into this mess. The least I can do is take care of you now,” he said, lapsing into seriousness for once. “But as it stands, I can’t get to the wound.”
She heaved a sigh and undid her towel. Pain flared fiercely as she peeled the towel from where she’d been pressing on those scratches. The tinny tang of blood filled the air, and the shredded skin throbbed. Dax pulled a chair up, his brows knitting together in concentration as he splashed antiseptic on a smooth gauze pad. She settled her bare feet flat against the hardwood floor, bracing for the sting. He glanced to her, and she nodded.
When the soaked gauze descended, Sierra let out a hiss. She focused on Dax, trying to ignore the pain. This close, his woodsmoke smell wrapped around her, so similar to the cedar of this cabin. Despite her bravado, she was quite aware of her own nudity and how her body awakened around him. His lips pressed together as he tended to the wound. Like this, she glimpsed the Silver Spring alpha side of him, someone lethal and strong enough for part of his pack to split off to follow rather than indulging in his late father’s corruption.
His hands remained steady as he cleaned her wounds, the tendons of those corded forearms bulging with each swipe. Heat pooled between her legs despite the pain. Her body reacted to him with a thrill she hadn’t experienced in a long while. Those years before when she thought she’d found the one, the bastard had fucked off when she became alpha, unable to accept her dominance. After that, she’d closed the door on relationships, sticking to tried and true flings.
With a few deft swipes, Dax attached a swath of gauze over the wound with pieces of medical tape. He placed a hand on the top of her bare thigh, the contact a jolt. Heat flooded through her, and her body pulsed with need from the single touch.
“You’re all set,” he said, rising off the couch. She snagged the ball of clothes he’d given her. Sierra tugged on the black T-shirt, which dwarfed her, and a gray pair of sweats she had to tighten the drawstrings on. Her nose wrinkled on instinct, and her wolf paced inside her in protest. His scent marked these clothes so strongly she was drowning in it, stoking her predatory need to dominate and establish her own space. She’d forgotten her own clothes in his truck. The sound of running water came from the kitchen, and minutes later Dax emerged with a matching gauze patch.
Her heart pounded in her ears from the thrill of the fight, the blood pumping hot through her veins. The sarcastic alpha in front of her wasn’t helping diminish the blaze. Sierra perched on the edge of the couch, her elbows braced against her knees.
“So what did you find out?” she asked. “Anything worth throwing ourselves out there like chum?” A glance at the clock told her they’d made decent time, which meant Jeremiah wouldn’t be sending a witch hunt out yet. Still, the boys would lose their shit if they figured she’d gotten mucked up in the scuffle. Despite the fact she could thrash their asses, they were an overprotective bunch, like the brothers she always wanted.
Dax sauntered toward her, his presence distracting like an itch she couldn’t scratch. He sank into the couch inches from her, spreading his arms out along the back. This close, he emanated warmth, giving summer’s humidity a run for its money.
“I found out they’re screwed if the Tribe pays us a visit, so I’m about ready to bring the hellfire down on us. Can’t be worse than the mess my pack’s made of itself after Pops passed.” He ran a hand through his dark strands, his smile flickering to serious. Darkness lingered in those blue eyes, like ghosts haunted him despite only the two of them standing in this cabin.
“Bring it,” Sierra said with a shrug. Even though the Tribe ruled with a harsh hand, she understood the responsibility that came with their role and the burdens associated. She’d made her own unpopular calls for the betterment of her pack in the past, this being one of them.
“You’re not what I expected, you know that?” he said, letting out a laugh as he clasped his hands behind his head.
She cocked an eyebrow. “And what were you expecting?”
“Based on the rumors, an ice queen with an iron fist. But you’re vibrant, strong, and fiercer than I ever anticipated.” He cast a glance her way, his eyes twinkling with his smile. The lust in his gaze didn’t surprise her but his intensity did. “The rumors failed to mention how devastatingly hot the Red Rock alpha happened to be too.”
Her fingers curled into the cushion of the sofa at the statement. At the desire in his eyes. Sierra couldn’t afford complications, not in her position, but the way he flirted with her and teased had amped her touch hunger to a deafening roar. He nudged her with his thigh, their knees bumping against each other. Her heart pounded in double time, and the wolf inside her snapped at the leash, ready to lunge in and sate her needs.
“You’re all talk, Williams,” she tossed back, the dare flaring inside her. The surge of attraction sparking through her hadn’t risen to this crescendo in a long time.
His grin widened, reaching those wicked, teasing eyes as he leaned in closer. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say that was a taunt.” The air between them thickened with charged particles, ready to ignite. “Careful, sweetheart. I love a challenge.”
The scent of cedar surrounded her, smothered her, his musk revving her engines with a surprising intensity. Her wolf lunged in her chest, desperate to mark, and Sierra’s thighs tingled in response, her entire body prickling under the sweep of his gaze. He stared at her as if he wanted to devour her, his big body braced for action of a different sort. Each breath arrived shallower, and the desire to tas
te those lips reached a rising beat in her chest.
She lifted her chin, meeting his gaze. He wanted to invite the storm in; she’d ravage him if only to knock the cocky smirk off his face.
Warmth spread inside her, and she hid a secret grin as she lunged forward.
Despite the sting of her injuries, she descended on him with the fury of a wolf, her lips claiming his in one swoop. Dax’s hands wrapped around her waist as he sank into the kiss, responding with similar aggression. He tasted like mint, and the second his lips parted, her tongue slipped in. His palms heated through her shirt, fiery imprints branding her body. Dax tugged her toward him with one powerful swing, pulling her onto his lap.
Her thighs settled around his, her core throbbing with demand and her folds already slick and ready. From the way his erection pressed against her through the fabric, he was too. Her lips crashed against his again and again as she grew addicted to the minty taste, the smooth glide of his lips. He nipped at her lower lip, the bite sparking through her system like electricity. But Dax didn’t stop there. After he pulled away for a breath, those lips descended on the slope of her neck, those teeth scraped against the sensitive skin.
The man had a clever mouth—she couldn’t deny that.
The urge to claim reached a pulsing roar inside her. Her wolf tugged at her chest, lunging forward in a way she’d never experienced before. She’d thought the power wars with another alpha had sparked this intense fight in her. As his touch lit her inside, she wasn’t so sure anymore.
Mine. Mine. Mine.
The words pounded in her blood, in her bones, until she lost herself in the heat of his hands, the scrape of his teeth, and the glide of his lips. Her nails sank into his arms as the meaning of those words hit home.
Normal humans might get a little possessive, but for shifters, one thing inspired this sort of territorial edge. The sort of tug that reached soul deep with the promise of something real, something permanent. The mating bond.
Dax’s eyes widened right as she pulled away, her throat going dry. Even though her wolf lunged forward inside her, desperate to complete the cycle and claim absolutely, Sierra, the human, the alpha, was not ready to make forever commitments with a man she barely knew.
She slipped off him with wolfish swiftness, her lips tingling and the bite on her neck where he’d sunk his teeth raw and brazen. Several scratches adorned his arms from her nails sinking into his skin, the claws pricking past in her shock. He regarded her with the caution of a predator. Apparently she wasn’t the only one smacked in the face with the realization. The closeness, the heat that had risen between them mere moments ago, extinguished. The mating bond had tossed a bucket of cold water on those mounting feelings.
Even so, her wolf rammed in her chest at the same anxious pulse as her heart. If she didn’t get out of here, all logic would get thrown by the wayside, and animal nature would take over. The same nature that repeated claim, claim, claim in her head and in her heart.
“I’ve got to go.” The words slipped from her without a second thought as she raced for the door. The second she burst into the fragrant summer air, the shift took over. When her padded feet hit the ground, Sierra ran.
Chapter Six
Mate.
Dax didn’t do serious relationships. He’d never bothered with them because all those sparks flashed out of existence quickly, and he’d move to the next fireworks display. He ran a hand through his short hair, sinking into the couch as if the soft cushions would devour him whole. As if his head wasn’t already a cluster of confusion, the last thing he needed was this dropped bomb.
Sierra Kanoska had lit his veins on fire, and sure, he’d wanted to fuck her senseless the moment they met, but sating his aggression with a quick tumble was a different scenario than taking his mate to bed. Not like you just plucked one of those off the aisle. Some folks married happily, never finding their mate, but those lucky enough to find their fated had the partnerships his kind revered. The mating bond might take a while to develop or it could emerge from the outset—for them, they’d been cursed with the latter.
“Fuck me,” Dax groaned before pushing off the suffocating grip of the couch. He barely knew Kanoska, and the words they’d exchanged had been filled with more than a little rancor. She would rip his heart out of his chest with her bare teeth and take his balls as a trophy over being his mate. She’d made her stance clear when she bolted out of his house as if her tail was lit on fire. Not like he didn’t agree—they’d just met. Those sorts of attachments bordered on lunacy.
Yet he needed her help. They’d left Jeremiah at the diner to go over the will, and if Dax’s pack had turned on him because he was a bastard, he’d need all the support he could get to try to stake a fair claim as alpha. Alpha status had never been a dynasty, but after his father won the position after his father passed, the man had died trying to make it so.
Dax stalked into his room to put on a pair of pants without an elastic waistband. Whether she liked it or not, Kanoska had agreed to work with him, and he would hold her to her promise. Even if they had problems keeping their hands off each other and she happened to be his destined mate. No biggie. He tugged on a beat-up tee as he let out a long exhale. Hell, he hadn’t stayed in a relationship longer than six months, and in stomped a woman he barely knew with lifetime potential stamped all over her perfect ass.
He snagged his Flyers cap from his end table. The mating bond wasn’t some arranged marriage. Both parties had to consent for the connection to solidify. After the pair confirmed the mating bond, most had a Tribe member bless the union through the totem spirits, similar to a wedding ceremony, but he’d only been to a couple in his lifetime. Those celebrations were massive, the sort to draw surrounding packs and unite a whole region together—the exact sort of chaos he wanted to avoid. Since she’d started out with a lower-than-average opinion of him, all he had to do was keep from falling for her.
His stomach churned at the thought. Easy as a run through the woods.
* * * *
For the second night in a row, he showed up at Beaver Tavern.
Wolf sweat drenched this little woodsy shithole of a bar, but he’d left Kyle and Ally at this bar last night to mingle, and they’d somehow escaped without a scratch. He, on the other hand, had managed to get more than a couple of scratches from a certain wolf alpha in the heat of the moment. The amber lights glowed with a welcome he wouldn’t receive, not after what happened earlier in his cabin. Sierra must’ve run the whole way back too, as he hadn’t needed to deal with Jeremiah the overprotective werewolf banging on his door.
His jeans were wrinkled and his T-shirt torn in more than a couple of places, but he didn’t bother with nice attire when the Red Rock alpha had bolted from his place earlier. With the way his luck was going lately, she’d call the whole deal off and he’d be up shit creek. Dax heaved a sigh as he shoved his hands into his pockets and strolled to the entrance.
Shouts and laughter washed over him once he stepped inside, the scent of wet dog mingling with stale beer and unfinished wood. Even though he crept in at a silent tread, once he crossed the threshold, all eyes turned to him. Wolves and their keen noses.
He ignored the pressure of the stares leveled his way as well as the growls from the guys on the periphery who found his mere presence a threat. Not his problem if they grappled with insecurity.
Dax didn’t even need to scan the place; he felt her there, another bad sign she’d imprinted on him more than he anticipated. Like déjà vu, Sierra Kanoska sat at the bar, a bottle in her hand, though this time a hulking guy with a buzz cut stood behind the counter rather than the vixen from yesterday. Dax approached the bar, remaining silent. With the way her shoulders tensed, he didn’t need to announce his presence. She had the same awareness too.
He slid into the seat beside Sierra, the worn legs of the stool creaking as he settled. Unlike the hush from last night, though, folks were muttering crap under their breath and stealing sips from their pints.<
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The guy behind the bar flattened his palms on the surface, watching him with the wary eyes of a predator. “Give me one reason I shouldn’t gut you here.”
Dax didn’t bat an eye, sliding out a pack of mints from his pocket. “First off, take the edge off your mutt breath before you go baring your teeth at me,” he responded. The surly bartender’s reached lightning fast across the counter to bat the pack of mints away, and it smacked against the wall. Dax had to hide his smirk of amusement at how fast wolves’ tempers sparked.
He angled his body to Sierra. “We made an agreement, which I haven’t done anything to violate. So unless the honor of the Red Rocks is as mythical as your patience, you won’t be launching into an attack.”
Sierra placed a hand on the barkeep’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze. A flare of heat seared Dax at the casual touch she offered another guy. He exhaled slowly, calming the irrational impulse. Then the Red Rock alpha fixed those vibrant, dark eyes on him. His gut kicked with surprising strength. Hell, if making out with Kanoska inspired this sort of shit, he was screwed if they ever got down and dirty.
“I apologize,” she said, loud enough for the bartender to hear. Her eyes locked with Dax’s, the gravity in her expression snaring him on the spot. He understood at once she referred to earlier. At running when they needed to talk things out. Her lips were pursed and those deep eyes serious, but even though he wished he could tap into her current, her thoughts remained unreadable. “You didn’t do anything to warrant hostility from my pack. If they can’t behave,” she said, casting a warning eye around the room, “then I’ll have to assign them tasks to blow off all their extra energy.”
At once, a clamor of shuffling, rustles, and clinks arose as folks returned to their beers and business.
Tribal Spirit: Forged Alliances Page 5
