by P. Jameson
The prophecy says she’ll reject him…
Trager was only a wolfling when he was given a devastating foretelling by the pack elders, and tossed from his family home in the Ozark Mountains. A wolf who can’t secure a mate will only endanger the pack. Destined to be denied by his mate, he’s been on his own ever since, surviving, waiting... hunting her. Now that he’s found her, he has a plan. A threat from a rival pack will have him returning home, in hopes of saving the very people who cast him out. But he can’t go alone. He’ll have to convince the woman who doesn’t want him, to help.
His wolf will make her an offer she can’t refuse…
It’s been a year since she lost the love of her life in a tragic motorcycle accident, and Kerrigan is finally ready to move on. Especially since she was never the love of his. A roughened biker who’s hot enough to stop her breath is the very last thing she’s looking for. But apparently he’s been looking for her, and even with her unwanted extra pounds, he looks at her like she sets his world on fire. To be accepted, wanted, as she is, is her deepest secret desire. But is it worth it to risk her heart again, with someone who could so easily crush it?
A Mate’s Denial
By P. Jameson
A Mate’s Denial
Copyright © 2014 by P. Jameson
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, redistributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in any database, without prior permission from the author.
The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead,is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Chapter One
There she was. After months of hunting, at last he had her in his sights. All he could see was the back of her honey brown head through the café window, but he was certain it was her. His wolf could sense his mate no matter how far away, but this close he could, ever so faintly, catch her scent. The fresh smell—like evergreens and cherry blossoms—made his heart thunder, his pants tighter, and everything under his skin come alive.
Damn wolf. Now was not the time to get excited. He needed to stick to the plan. If he went in there like He-man, it could mess things up. He needed to be patient. Had to keep the wolf at bay for a little while longer.
Trager sat back in the seat of his motorcycle and turned the engine off. He couldn’t get a good look at her from his vantage point, but he didn’t necessarily want to get closer. Too risky. He’d just wait her out. She’d have to leave sometime.
His shades made it possible for him to spy on her in broad daylight, but unfortunately, there was only a bobbing head to be seen. He would’ve given his left nut for a view of her profile. Waiting this long left him feeling desperate.
The amount of time he spent outside the café was measured in units of torture. By the time she left the place, he was dying for even a hint at what his mate looked like. A hint other than the color of her hair. Which was fucking awesome. In his experience, brunettes were always hotter.
Trager didn’t own a watch, and he didn’t feel like digging his phone out to check the time, but if every bob of his mate’s dark head was the equivalent of a second, he sat there for almost an hour before she finally stepped out of the café.
Anticipation made his breath catch in his throat. A truck whizzed by, obscuring his view for more seconds than he could possible tolerate. Fisting his hands, he waited, heart thundering…
Finally, he got a look at her, and the first thing he noticed was what she wore. Khakis. A pale pink polka-dotted shirt, sensible shoes, and khakis. He was appalled, but then a grin inched one side of his mouth upward. He’d like to get her out of those drab clothes. Peel every stitch off slowly, revealing her luscious body one centimeter at a time, until there was all skin and zero fabric.
Trager swallowed hard. His smile slipped and he gripped the handle of his bike to keep steady.
She was going to reject him. It had been prophesied by the Elders when he was still a pup, that his mate would deny him, that he would never find love, that he would never have young.
That single foretelling rendered him useless to the pack. A male who couldn’t secure a mate? One who couldn’t produce offspring? Even though he’d been too young to do much more than simply survive pack life, he was the weakest link and therefore expelled. Or as he liked to think of it, tossed on his ass.
He’d spent so much of his life hoping the Elders were wrong. Now, he needed them to be. And not because his mate was beautiful beyond words, with a body he’d love to spend a lifetime learning to master. No, he needed them to be wrong because his pack—the very ones who’d betrayed him—was in danger.
And she was the only one who could save them.
His plan had to work. There was much more at stake than the future of his love life.
Her scent drifted over to him, a thousand times stronger than it had been when she was still inside. His wolf shuffled under his skin, wanting out, because he knew Trager wasn’t going any closer to her. Wolf wanted to get cozy, and Trager wouldn’t mind either, but he had to take it easy.
He gripped the handle of his bike so hard, it squeaked.
His mate paused by the door of the restaurant to dig in her purse, her long hair falling to shield what he knew now was full round cheeks, big almond-shaped eyes, and a mouth that formed a perfect puckered bow.
Time to go. He needed to regroup, rethink. Some place her scent wasn’t clouding his mind.
Trager revved his bike, preparing to escape her presence and find a way to calm his wolf. But at the first sound of the engine, his mate’s head snapped up, her eyes narrowing, her gaze lasering on him.
His mouth dried, at the look on her face. Shock, anger, concern. He couldn’t understand why she looked at him like that, with her already big eyes widening.
Attempting to ignore her, he turned the wheel of his bike to pull into the lane, narrowly missing a minivan. But that wasn’t the real trouble….
It happened so fast all he could do was react, and deal with any consequences later.
The pop of a chain snapping, the rush of collective gasps, the whoosh of something falling fast enough to do a hell of a lot of damage when it landed. He had the smallest fraction of a second to make sure his mate was out of harm’s way.
When he realized he was the one in danger, not her, he dove from his bike, rolling across the road, thankful for a break in the traffic. Before he’d even come to a stop, a crash that sounded like a bomb exploding, sent dust and debris skittering into the road. He jumped up, and lunged at his mate, shielding her from any possible shrapnel.
Their surroundings erupted in commotion. A disturbing combination of sirens wailing, people yelling, and horns honking. But Trager hardly noticed any of it. Not with his mate pressed so close to him he could feel her heart pounding like the fluttering of a tiny bird’s wings. Up close, she was even more delectable, her lips parted slightly. His body surged with adrenaline, breath heaving with the effort to keep his wolf in check. He wanted to put his nose to the soft skin of her neck and sniff, until her scent was all he knew.
Her brow furrowed, forming a tiny line between her eyes, before she pushed at his chest. “Let me go!”
A command. He immediately stepped back, releasing her. She wobbled on her feet, but when he reached out to steady her, she jerked away. A knot formed in the pit of his stomach. And so it begins.
Trager cleared his throat—twice—before he could speak. “Are you okay?”
She nodded. “Fine. You?” Her voice sounded angry rather than concerned.
“I’m good. My bike might not be though.” Staring back over his shoulder, he could see the dust was clearing. A crowd of people gathered around his crumpled motorcycle. Some stared h
is way, pointing, their lips flapping a story about his narrow escape.
Trager’s gaze went upward, to the heavy machinery working the nearby construction site. It appeared a steel beam had come loose and fallen on his poor ride. Damn. Just… damn.
“Perhaps if you weren’t so careless,” his mate huffed.
Wait, what? Careless?
He turned back to her. “Excuse me?”
She bent to retrieve her purse where it had fallen on the ground, and came up brushing dark strands of hair from her face. “Careless. Reckless. I don’t know who you think you are, but you almost caused an accident right before your… accident. You should be more careful. Karma can be a bitch.”
Trager narrowed his eyes. “Are you really suggesting that I could have prevented a steel beam from falling on my bike if I’d been a tad more careful?”
She raised a dark eyebrow. “Yeah, pretty much.”
He crossed his arms. “Oh, I’d love to hear this. Please, enlighten me.”
“Sure,” she snapped. “If you had been watching where you were going, you wouldn’t have almost hit the van. They wouldn’t have slammed on their brakes, causing traffic to slow. You could have carefully pulled into the lane, and the beam would have missed you altogether. By seconds, of course, but yes, this could have been avoided. But you’re just like all bikers, utterly careless of anyone but yourself.”
Whoa, whoa, whoa. So, his mate had an axe to grind.
Trager cocked his head to the side, searching her face. There was fire in her eyes, but also something else. She’d been hurt. Vitriol like that could only be born from pain. Something inside him stirred. A feeling of protectiveness. He wished he’d found her sooner. Maybe he could’ve prevented whatever had hurt her.
Whether she was right about the accident or not, he wanted to help her feel better. To reassure her. “You know what, you’re right. I should be more careful.”
Her eyebrows went up in surprise, before a mask of indifference covered up her reaction.
“In the future, I will be. Lesson learned.”
She nodded. “Right. Okay, then. Looks like they need you over there.”
Trager glanced over his shoulder to see a policeman talking to several workers in hardhats, but his wolf wanted answers. Who had hurt her? He’d kill them. What was her name? He was drooling for his mate’s name. Where did she live? No, that one was better left unknown. If he knew where she lived, he’d be too tempted to go to her. Bad enough, he knew where she worked.
“What’s your name?” he asked, just as she turned to walk away.
Her gaze was calculating, but finally she answered. “Sam.”
“Sam, who?”
“Sam Adams.” Sam. Short for Samantha? Pretty name.
He smiled. “I’m Trager. Trager Rowland.” For some reason telling her his name felt so… intimate. He hoped he wasn’t blushing.
“Great. Nice to meet you, Trager.” She smiled tightly. “I should be going now.”
Yes, he needed her to go. His wolf was rumbling at her nearness. But he didn’t want her to. He didn’t want any distance between them. Not even the few feet difference from where he was to where she stood.
“Excuse me, sir.” The officer had come to take his statement. Trager glared at him, and when he turned back to tell Samantha bye, she was already out of earshot. It was only then, when she vanished around a corner, that he realized she’d given him the name of a beer.
Chapter Two
Kerrigan unlocked the door to her apartment, nudged her way past the pile of mail on the floor, and went straight for the fridge. The fridge had wine. Wine was important on days like this one. Days where bad memories were dredged up in a slam-it-in-your-face fashion. Where beams fall from the sky to almost crush random motorcyclists. What happened outside the café had been too similar to the events that took place a year ago. Her fingers shook, just thinking about it.
Who was she kidding? Wine was important every day.
She poured the pale drink into a plastic toss-away cup. She didn’t need to feel classy; she needed to feel nothing. Or, at least better. She never got drunk enough to feel nothing. Hadn’t wanted to go that low. She might be torn up over the death of her boyfriend, but she wouldn’t self-destruct over someone whose feelings for her had been little more than friends. Barely even that. No, not even that.
Ethan hadn’t loved her. Not as a friend, not as a lover, not as a human being living on planet earth. Kerrigan had been convenient. Her infatuation with the man had allowed him to take advantage of her. Specifically, of her finances.
Her cell phone buzzed from the counter, flashing a picture of her sister’s blond capped face.
“Hey,” she answered, holding the phone between her ear and shoulder so she could kick off her shoes.
“Hey, Kerri!” Braeh’s voice was always so jubilant. As if she was announcing a visit from the queen or something. “So, how’d it go? How was your interview?”
Kerrigan sighed. “I won’t know anything until Monday at the earliest. But to be honest, it doesn’t look promising. They just don’t have any openings for a kindergarten teacher right now.”
She loved kids, but there were flaws with her body besides its appearance. Flaws, inside, that kept her from ever being able to have children. Next best thing? Being a teacher. The trust fund she’d received upon graduating college hadn’t been the stuff of legends, but it was sizeable enough to allow her to follow her dreams. Emphasis on ‘was’.
Braeh’s voice came back slightly less chipper. “I’m sorry, sis. But you know, I was talking to dad earlier. He’d love for you to come home. There are plenty of openings at his office. I’m sure he could find you a place.”
“I don’t know if I’m ready. I moved thousands of miles away for a reason, you know.” Kerrigan didn’t need to mention the falling out of ’09, when she’d broken the news to their father that she was moving to Joplin to be a teacher. She might as well have told him she was becoming a stripper. He’d taken it with the same finesse.
“Aw, come on, Kerri. Alaska misses you, don’t ‘cha know?” Then, in a quieter tone, “I miss you.”
Kerrigan’s eyes misted. “I miss you too, sis.” If it wasn’t for Facebook, she wouldn’t have made it this long without Braeh. “Let’s just see what they say first, okay? Who knows, maybe I’ll end up back in Kodiak sooner than we think.”
“I hope so. I mean, I hope things work out with the job, but if they don’t, I wouldn’t be too upset. Not if it meant seeing you again.”
“You know, you could always fly out here. You can afford a ticket.”
Silence.
“What? What is it?”
“Nothing,” Braeh said too quickly.
“What aren’t you telling me? Is it dad? Did he ask you not to see me?”
“Of course not, silly. He loves you.”
“Right. He loves the idea of loving me. Not me.”
“Oh, stop it, Kerri. Look, I get you’ve had a bad day, but don’t do this. Don’t pretend you’re all alone in the world and that nobody cares.”
Braeh was right. She’d made a few bad choices, trusted the wrong people, fallen in love with a bastard douchebag, but that didn’t mean nobody cared. Dad cared even if he had an asshole way of showing it. And Braeh cared, even if she was eight thousand miles away, with bad internet service.
“Yeah, okay. Pity party over. When did my little sister get so smart anyway?”
She heard Braeh’s smile through the phone. “When you left town and I had no one to compete with.”
“Ah, that explains it.”
When she hung up with her sister, she felt a ton better. The incident on the street was a random occurrence. Being alive meant she was going to see accidents. It didn’t mean she had to fall apart at every memory of Ethan’s death. And the chances of her ever seeing that biker again were slim.
That gorgeous, irresponsible biker.
Kerrigan gulped her wine so she wouldn’t think any go
od thoughts about him.
That selfish, irresponsible biker. Like the one who’d killed Ethan.
There. That was more like it.
Trager. Even his name sounded irresponsible. If that was even his real name.
After a long hot bath, and a few chapters of her favorite book, Kerrigan felt relaxed enough to sleep. Tomorrow was a new day, and she intended to make the best of it.
Chapter Three
Trager knew it was a long shot but he had to try. His family—whether they wanted to claim him or not—was at risk, and he couldn’t stand by and do nothing. There was Gabby and Farrow to think about. It had been more than a decade since he’d seen his sister, but Farrow told him she’d grown to be a fine she-wolf. Still unmated, but there was no prophecy depicting otherwise, so it would happen with time.
His last rendezvous with Farrow hadn’t gone well. His childhood friend was finding it hard to keep their meetings a secret. And since he was at the right age to find his mate, the risk of being caught with a straggler like Trager, wasn’t worth it. Trager couldn’t fault him, really. If the Elders learned the two had kept in touch throughout the years, that Farrow had slipped Trager food and supplies when he’d been on his last leg, they’d toss him from the pack too. Then where would he bring his mate to raise a family?
No, if the tables were turned, Trager wouldn’t take the risk either. That’s why he’d skipped their last three meetings.
Every three months, on the last Friday of the month, they met deep in the woods of Trager’s property, far away from his cabin. He didn’t like meeting his friend in the middle of nowhere, but if life had taught Trager anything, it was that there was safety in secrets. His home was a secret. No one knew its location and he planned to keep it that way.
Tonight, they were due to meet again. He’d planned on warning Farrow about the threat to his pack, but his friend didn’t show. That left Trager with one more option before his hail Mary play. If this worked, he wouldn’t have to bring his mate—there was no way her name was really Sam Adams—into the mix. If there was any possible way to leave her out of this mess, he’d do it.
