by P. Jameson
Which is why he found himself pacing outside the borders of his former pack’s land, just after midnight.
Trager had run all the way from Joplin to the Ozark national forest, and not only because his bike was dead. His wolf needed to burn off steam, and a two hundred mile run seemed like the best option at the time. Now, Trager was just as frustrated as when he’d started except he was tired too.
Fur ruffling in the night breeze, he paced another round. Nudged a rock with his nose. They’d probably already scented him, but he couldn’t cross the borders. All he could do was wait for them to show, and hope they didn’t try to kill him.
His ears twitched with the rustling of tree leaves. His wolf nose drew in the faintly familiar scent of others like him. Wolf shifters. Many of them. At least ten.
Ten to one, if they tried to kill him. Best to play it safe.
Trager put his paws forward and brought his nose to the ground, his hind legs pulled inward, and his tail tucked. He was the picture of sweet submission. Yielding to people who had forsaken him felt like hide being ripped off. The only thing that kept his nose to the ground was the thought of his sister’s safety.
Several pregnant minutes passed before three large wolves emerged from the thick brush. Trager didn’t look them in the eye, but he recognized them. The black one with the golden eyes and scarred ear was Vesh, the pack’s fiercest hunter. Avan, a white wolf, was the smallest of the three. A female, a few years older than Trager, she wouldn’t be here unless she was a boundary defender. She must have grown to be ferocious. The last wolf was a unique combination of brown, red, and black.
Farrow.
This could be a good sign. With Farrow here, maybe this could work.
Trager held very still as the black wolf creeped forward. A barely contained growl, rumbled in Vesh’s throat. He circled Trager, sniffing the ground around him. When he came back to Trager’s face, he released a threatening snarl.
Don’t lunge, don’t lunge. If Trager attacked the guard, this whole thing would be ruined. Not to mention, he didn’t stand a chance against these wolves when several more of them lurked in the woods, waiting to bite his head off. He locked his jaw to prevent himself from responding with his own roar.
Trager kept his prone pose while the other two guards circled him. Farrow’s jaw snapping near Trager’s nose gave him an odd sense of pride for his friend, even as it felt like another knife in the back.
The whole thing went on for too long. He had things he needed to tell them, and they were wasting the night away sniffing his ass and growling. Trager’s patience was on its last string when the three of them finally shifted, letting their wolves fall away.
Trager remained as he was.
“You’re not welcome here.” Vesh’s snarl was almost as bad in this form as his wolf’s. “Go now, and you’ll live.”
Trager considered the warning. Although his life was pretty damn important to him, so was what he had to say. And waiting to be told he could shift was getting him nowhere.
Slowly, so they wouldn’t think he meant to attack, he stood to his full wolf height and changed. It felt good to stretch, and to be back in his body after such a long run.
Vesh scowled. “What do you want, straggler?”
Trager ignored the insult. “I need to speak to the alpha.”
Avan snorted. Farrow was quiet, his brow furrowed.
“The alpha would kill you in a heartbeat,” Vesh informed him.
Trager rolled his eyes. “I don’t wish to challenge him.” Though, he’d never considered that tactic. That was one way back in. If he could win against the alpha, he could take over the pack. But he didn’t really want to come back. He just wanted to warn them so they could protect themselves. “I need to talk to him about the Ravendale pack.”
Vesh crossed his arms, eyes narrowed. “Ravendale? Don’t tell me they’ve taken you in. That would be low, even for them.”
The words hurt. Shit like that always hurt, reminding him that he was nothing. Worth less than nothing. This twinge of pain was nothing new though, and he covered it with a sarcastic grin.
“Nah, being a lone wolf has really worked for me. No alpha to bow down to. How about you? You liking your job as alpha’s main bitch?”
Vesh’s eyes flared with rage. Trager hit a touchy spot.
“You can’t talk to the alpha, Trager,” Farrow spoke up. “You know that. You need to leave before we call the others.” His voice was a hard lash. Not the chummy tone Trager was used to. He stared at his only friend. He had to convince them, and Farrow was his only chance.
“Look, the pack is in danger. I have information and I need to speak with the alpha before it’s too late.”
Vesh barked a brutal laugh. “The pack has never been better. There is no danger here. You’re delusional.”
“If you’ll just let me see him—“
“This is ridiculous,” Farrow spat. “What are you trying to pull here?”
“I’m… I’m trying to keep the pack safe.” There are people I love in there, he wanted to scream, but he didn’t have the right anymore. If he said it out loud, they could kill him. It would be within the law.
“We’ve got that covered,” Farrow sneered. “We don’t need you or any information you have.”
Trager glared. He hadn’t seen Farrow in almost a year. Maybe he’d finally given up on Trager, after all. He didn’t blame his friend for not meeting anymore, but had he actually cut all ties? Was he one of them now?
Avan put one hand on her naked hip. “I think I see what’s going on here.”
Trager turned his gaze on her, respectfully not ogling her tits. Not that she’d mind. Shifters didn’t care about modesty like humans did.
With her hips slinking, she strolled over to him. Shoulders forward, and head down, she looked eerily similar to her animal. She stopped in front of him, her chest almost brushing his. Nauseatingly close. Trager had the urge to run, to not let his skin touch hers.
“I think,” she murmured, “that you’re trying to find a way back in. Miss your pack, do you, straggler?”
The wolf in Trager wanted to snarl and snap. Wanted to grab her by the neck and force her away. The human in him, needed to make them understand that he wasn’t here for himself.
“That’s not why I’m here,” he ground out.
A cruel smile curved her lips. “I’m guessing she’s already thrown you away then. Your mate, am I right? The prophecy has held and now you’re desperate for a way into the pack. What better way to do it than become the hero? Go to the alpha with news of some threat that only you can thwart. Smart idea, but there’s just one problem.” Leaning forward, she whispered, “He won’t fall for that.”
Trager shook his head, his pleading gaze going to Farrow. “It isn’t like that.”
Avan ran a finger slowly down Trager’s chest, and the sensation made him sick. His throat rumbled ominously, his jaw snapping for her to back down.
She retreated a fraction. “Well, that answers my first question. You’ve definitely found your mate.” Leaning closer, she sniffed him. “I’d say recently too.”
Vesh’s taunting laugh was salt on a third degree burn. “That was quick. Farrow, ever hear of a mate refusing a wolf that fast? That must be a record, right?”
Farrow’s laugh was acid and a wire-bristled brush on that third degree burn. “For sure, for sure.”
Trager’s stomach twisted into a tight knot. He hated that they could do this to him, affect him in such a way, but more than anything, he wanted to defend his mate. “She hasn’t denied me,” he snapped. “This has nothing to do with her.”
Farrow grinned at the others. “Right. Well then…” He stepped up to Trager, forcing Avan to back away. With his nose inches away, and a challenge in voice, he said, “Prove it. If you want in to talk to the alpha, you’ll have to bring your mate.”
That was exactly what Trager was trying to avoid. If he could trick them into thinking the prophecy was wro
ng, that his mate had accepted him, they’d allow him in and he could warn them about the rival pack’s plan. But he hadn’t wanted to use her like that.
“I don’t want her in the middle of this.”
Farrow shrugged one broad shoulder. “Sorry, man. Come back mated, or don’t come back at all.”
Trager daggered him with hate-filled eyes. Farrow was the only person he’d trusted. Now he didn’t even have that. Somehow he would convince his mate to help him, and find a way to the alpha, if it was the last thing he did. He’d keep the pack safe, protect his sister, and then he’d leave and go so far away, he’d never be put in this position again.
With a final growl, he shifted, leaving the hell that was the Ozarks and heading straight for a café in Joplin.
Chapter Four
The warm cool night air clashed with heavy humidity, causing Trager’s breath to come slower. The run back was exactly what he needed to calm his anger at the wolves’ careless words. If they weren’t careful, their blatant stupidity and stubbornness would leave them as homeless as he’d been when they’d kicked him out.
His plan would have to be pushed ahead sooner. He needed to find his mate. But not only because he needed to get the ball rolling on Operation Save Asshole Pack. Their accusations had threatened his wolf. Their implications that his mate didn’t want him pushed his wolf to prove them otherwise. Or at least to find some kind of solace with her and prove it to himself.
He needed her. It fucking sucked, but it was true. She had the power to bring him down hard, but he couldn’t make himself hate her for what she was going to do. Instead, he was going to try to change fate and win her. And in the meantime, hopefully prevent a turf war with the wolves.
The café would be the best place to pick up her trail. Hopefully, he could still catch enough of it to find where she lived.
Just far enough outside the city for a wolf to go unnoticed, Trager had left his 80s era 4-Runner tucked behind a thick cover of trees. The thing barely ran, and was missing a headlight, but it served for when he couldn’t use his bike. This time, it would have to last until he could get a new one.
Shifting, he stretched his limbs and shook out his hair. He was exhausted. Quickly, he changed into his jeans and tee shirt, and drove to the area he’d last seen his mate.
As he rounded the corner near the café, he inhaled the air from his open window. The mixture of bagels, coffee, and car exhaust flooded his senses all at once. No sign of her scent. Parking, he got out to get a better handle on her trail.
As he walked closer to the café entrance, he caught it, barely. It was there, behind everything else, tickling his nose like the itchy touch of a feather. He honed in on it, the fresh scent getting stronger, staining his mind in the most perfect way. Glancing down the sidewalk, he spotted her a block away, head down, tapping at her cell phone.
How to approach her…
He couldn’t stall anymore. This was a matter of life and death. He pressed into the door with a deciding sigh. Better think of something fast.
Trager stood in line behind three other people and waited, hoping his mate’s destination was the café. He breathed a sigh of relief when she pulled the door open. A blast of evergreen assaulted him and he almost moaned. How could a woman smell so delicious? His wolf basked in it too. His anxiousness made Trager’s stomach and head spin.
From the corner of his eye, he watched a man, who was clearly in a hurry, slip in front of her in line. Not that she seemed to mind. Her nose was still glued to her phone screen.
Trager tapped his thumb against his thigh as he approached the counter and quickly ordered a black coffee.
“That’ll be 2.99.”
He slipped the barista an extra ten dollar bill. “For whatever she orders,” he whispered, throwing his head back in a gesture to indicate his mate. The guy in line behind him grumbled.
The barista looked confused, leaning to the side to examine the other customers. “The chunky girl?” he asked, skeptical.
It was the tone of his voice that set Trager’s hackles off. Like the pimple-ridden idiot was judging her and finding her lacking. He was probably comparing her to the plasticized, animated girls on whatever video game he spent his time trying to beat.
Trager leaned forward, both hands planted on the countertop, his voice low and threatening, he said, “The one with the gorgeous fucking eyes, you mean.”
The barista’s eyes flared, and his face turned the shade of an unripened plum. “Y-yes. Of course. Here’s your coffee, sir.”
Glaring, he snatched the cup from the guy’s scrawny hand and went to find a table by the door. Trager kept an eye on his girl, but her gaze never left the phone. Not until it was her turn to order. With her back to him, it was the perfect opportunity to watch her.
Stepping up to the counter, she stuffed her phone in the back pocket of her khakis… which brought his attention to her fine backside. Khakis might be the least sexy article of clothing ever, but the way those pants hugged her curves left him almost drooling.
Like the bastard at the counter so rudely mentioned, Trager’s mate wasn’t skinny. No, she was lush, and if he touched her, he knew she’d be so soft. His hands tingled at the mere idea.
He chugged his coffee, letting the burn distract him from her body.
She waited for her order, arms crossed, impatiently tapping her elbow with her thumb. When she handed the barista her cash to pay, he nervously gestured at Trager. She shook her head, clearly arguing, until the guy insistently flailed his arm in Trager’s general direction.
Trager held his breath as she turned to see who had bought her drink. When her eyes landed on him, his heart started doing jumping jacks. He could practically feel disdain rolling off of her, but she turned back to the barista, took her coffee, and started for his table.
Trager kept his gaze on her the whole way. He liked how she moved: hips swinging, but still reserved. It was the strangest combination of confidence and insecurity. And it was completely natural. Like she’d been born walking that way.
She stopped at the edge of his table. “You paid for my coffee?”
He couldn’t help a smirk. She was straight and to the point. He wondered if she was like that in bed.
“Why?”
“I wanted to.” He pointed to the empty seat. “Please, sit.”
She scanned the café, probably looking for someone she knew. For some excuse to do exactly the opposite of what he said.
Eventually, she set her cup on the table and slid into the seat in front of Trager. A deep frown marred her pretty features.
“What is this?” he asked, bringing his thumb up to stroke the corner of her mouth.
But she jerked back as if his touch was a viper’s tongue. Whoa. Trager clenched his fist and shoved his hand under the table. Message received. No touching. Somehow, he had to remember that she wasn’t his to touch at will. Most shifter mates desired their wolf; she didn’t. And likely never would.
A pain he’d been familiar with since childhood lanced the center of his chest. He pressed his lips together, hating the feeling, but knowing it would always be with him. The feeling had a name. Many, in fact, but one was Rejection.
“What the hell?” she whispered. “You can’t just go around touching perfect strangers. There’s a thing called personal space.”
He stared down at his coffee cup, brow furrowed. “You were frowning. I didn’t like it.”
She was silent for a beat. “Why are you here, buying my coffee?”
Trager shrugged. “I saw you come in. Thought I’d do something nice.”
“Oh. Well. Thanks.”
He peeked at her while she sipped her drink. Her puckered lips were free of any lipstick, and were so pink they didn’t need it anyway.
“So… Sam, is it? What’s your story?”
Her cheeks flared red. “You didn’t expect me to give you my real name did you?”
“Why wouldn’t you?”
“Because. What
if you were some creeper?”
“I’m not.”
She rolled her eyes. “That’s what all creepers say.”
Trager was baffled, but then remembered her reaction to his motorcycle incident. “Do you actually encounter a lot of creepers?”
“Well… no. But I’m careful. You can’t blame a girl for being careful.”
Right. And he wanted her to be very, very careful. The mere idea that she’d meet someone who could hurt her, it was enough to make him shake with fury. If anything was to happen to her…
“Yes,” he said, his voice rough. “You’re right. I want you to always be cautious.”
She tilted her head to one side, her eyebrows drawn. “Oooo-kay.”
Trager knew he was fucking this up. He wasn’t used to making small talk. And it was even harder with her, with his wolf howling and possessive.
Silence stretched between them like a thin sheet of ice, until she broke it. “Did your motorcycle survive?”
“Nah. It’s totaled. But I’ll get a new one.”
Her mouth formed a judgmental line.
“What’s your beef with bikes?” he asked.
“I don’t like them.”
“Yeah, I noticed that. Why?”
She hesitated, toying with the lid on her cup. “It’s personal. And besides, it’s not the motorcycles I despise so much as the drivers of motorcycles.”
Drivers of motorcycles. That told him more than she’d probably intended. Time to lighten things up.
“That explains your attitude Friday.”
Her dark eyebrows shot upward.
“Oh, come on. I kind of saved you and you didn’t even say thank you.”
This time her brows nearly touched her hairline. “Saved me?”
He nodded. “Shielded you from the stray shrapnel.”
“What shrapnel?”
He smirked. “See? Because of me, you were completely oblivious to the bike pieces flying at you at high speed.”
“Riiiiight.” She rolled her eyes. “Something tells me I would have been just fine whether you mauled me or not.”
