A Mate's Denial:

by P. Jameson

  Leaning her head back on the cushion, she stared out the black window. She had no idea what time it was, no clock to check, and her phone was in Trager’s bedroom. It was dark-ass thirty, that’s what time it was.

  That wolf, the reddish one that had growled at her from the door… was a man.

  The man, the one in the bedroom that had made her tremble with pleasure, that had knotted her stomach with his grin, that had held her carefully and made her feel worth something… was a wolf.

  Wolves were men, and men were wolves, and the world was a crazy, crazy place. She’d say she was in a very intense, orgasm-induced dream, but she’d pinched herself too many times for that to be true.

  She should be afraid. Terrified. Perhaps running for her life. But instead, she felt almost numb. Was this what it was like to be in shock?

  Seeing Trager split open on the ground had crushed her. Losing someone she cared about again wasn’t something she could handle.

  A tear rolled down her cheek but she ignored it.

  She cared about him? Yes. She did. Yes. It had happened quickly, but it had happened nonetheless. His death would’ve sent her off a ledge of bitterness.

  He didn’t die like she’d thought he would though. She’d watched his body do something miraculous. Something unbelievable. And now, he was whole and healthy.

  There was so much she didn’t know about him still. So much he didn’t know about her. And now, she had to go into a camp full of these were creatures, and pretend to be his mate—whatever the hell that meant. She had a feeling it didn’t just mean they’d done the dirty. All so the alpha would take the threat to the pack seriously.

  Why couldn’t he just listen to Trager? Why did she have to come along? Why was Trager not living in the camp with the rest of the wolves for that matter? Why was he miles from civilization, in a home he couldn’t even drive to?

  So many unanswered questions.

  While he locked himself away in his room.

  Kerrigan sighed. Pulled her feet up onto the couch. Looked like this would be her bed for the night.

  Chapter Twelve

  Trager slammed the bedroom door, and stood in the center of the room, willing the fury to leave his body. He was wound tight, and hurting. Not physically. He could handle the physical wounds.

  Farrow.

  Trager would never forgive him. The things he’d said about Kerrigan… the way he’d implied she couldn’t care about Trager… all of it.

  It hurt like hell to know the wolf he’d called friend all these years thought so poorly of him. He’d been the one to encourage Trager to find his mate, to change her mind, to change the prophecy. How could he turn on Trager so quickly?

  And to insult him in front of her like that?

  Trager’s cheeks burned with humiliation. He could only imagine what she must think of him. And now, she was going to camp, where people despised him. There would be more of what Farrow had spewed.

  Trager breathed a ragged sigh, and rested his forehead against the cool wood of the door.

  By the time this was all said and done, Kerrigan would think so poorly of him, there was no possible way she’d ever mate him. She’d move to Alaska, and he’d never see her again.

  His wolf roared at the idea, making Trager’s head feel like a battered ship on a perilous ocean.

  Pushing away from the door, he paced the small room to let off steam. He tried to focus on the good things. The night between Kerrigan’s legs, the yeses, the farmer’s market.

  It didn’t satisfy him—or the wolf—but did help settle him some.

  What happened tomorrow couldn’t be stopped. In fact, this was what he’d set out to do from the beginning. Save his sister. Save Farrow. Save the innocent wolves of the Ozarka pack. He just didn’t expect to be so torn about it. He’d likely lose Kerrigan over this—maybe that was what the prophecy had been about in the first place. He just hoped saving the lives of his former family was worth it.

  Easing his door open, he went to check her.

  She was asleep on the couch, with only a small throw blanket, cradling a bottle of Corona like it was a teddy bear.

  His heart lurched in his chest.

  She was so beautiful, his mate. And not just her appearance, but her heart. This must be scary for her. It wasn’t how he wanted her to find out about him, about shifters. But now, she’d committed to helping a pack of perfect strangers.

  Carefully, he pulled the bottle free of her grasp and set it on the side table. He brushed the curls from her face. Bending close, breathing deep, he took in her scent. It calmed his wolf a fraction more. He buried his nose in her hair, nuzzling. His heartbeat slowed to regular. His breathing calmed. His muscles loosened.

  He stared at her sleeping face, recording every detail. Every freckle, curve, and plane.

  Lifting her into his arms, he carried her to his bed. He was glad she was a heavy sleeper. As he laid her down, and removed her shoes and khakis, she didn’t stir. Trager undressed and slid into bed behind her, covering them both. He pulled her close, bringing her back to his front so as much of their skin touched as possible.

  “What are you doin’?” Her question was slurred with sleep.

  “Shh. You need to smell like me tomorrow, and this is the easiest way.”

  “Hmm. You’re a… wolf,” she mumbled.

  “Yes.”

  “In sheep’s… no, sexy man’s… clothin’.”

  “Shh. Sleep now.”

  She snored with her next breath, and he doubted she’d remember any of this the next morning.

  Trager spent the rest of the night running his hands along her arms and legs, imprinting as much of his scent as possible, and relishing the strength her nearness brought. He’d need every bit of it come morning.

  When the first rays of light broke through the trees, Trager carefully unwound their bodies and went to make breakfast. He left the plate of pancakes on the table for Kerrigan, swiped her keys from the counter, and drove to her apartment to pack a bag.

  It wasn’t until he was rummaging through her bathroom that he realized he probably should’ve brought her along. He could only guess what she needed. From her closet, he pulled several pairs of jeans—she did own something other than tan— a couple sweaters, tee shirts, and a pair of boots that looked too dressy for the mountain. They’d have to do.

  The dresser was a different story. He’d hoped to find underwear in the top drawer, but he hadn’t counted on the lacey assortment of thongs, teddies, and garters. He expected black cotton. Like what she’d worn the other night.

  Trager became hard, just imagining what his mate would look like wearing these. He picked several pairs of panties, some matching bras, and two skimpy night gowns. And because he knew she was going to kill him for this, he dug through the remaining drawers until he found a pair of yoga pants. A peace offering.

  On his way out of the apartment, Trager accidently kicked over a box. Pictures, photographs, spilled onto the rug in a random collage. Bending to pick them up, his eyes landed on one that made his blood cold. It seemed to have been taken some time ago. Kerrigan was a bit thinner, younger. Her smile was bright and beautiful. She was happy, one arm holding the camera out so she could snap the picture, the other was wrapped around a blond-haired man. His expression was bored.

  Trager shuffled through the pictures, finding more of Kerrigan and this man. In one, she was kissing his cheek. In another, she was leaned into him while he looked away at something off camera. Trager noticed with each picture he picked up, Kerrigan’s expression grew sadder and sadder, until she was no longer even in the pictures. They were shots of the man, mostly taken when he wasn’t paying attention. At a computer. While he sipped coffee. As he read a book.

  Was this the man who’d hurt his mate? The one who’d mistreated her? If so, why had she kept these pictures?

  Trager folded one, and jammed it in his pocket before leaving.

  When he returned to the cabin, the pancakes were gone
, and the shower was running. He knocked lightly on the bathroom door, and cracked it so he could talk to her.

  “Kerri?”

  “What?” Her voice sounded hollow.

  “I brought you some clothes. I’ll leave them on the bed, if you want.”

  “Yeah.”

  He waited, not sure what else to say.

  “We should leave by noon,” he told her.

  “Fine.”

  Trager let the door click shut, and went to gather the supplies they’d need for camp.

  ***

  The drive south had been quiet. Trager hadn’t said more than two words. The rumble of the road noise needled at Kerrigan’s ears. She was mad. She was scared. She wanted answers. But instead, she’d gotten pancakes. Waking up half naked in Trager’s bed had been unsettling. She needed to smell like him, he’d said. That was all she remembered of the incident. And then finding the suitcase full of her lingerie that he’d plucked from her house… she couldn’t even travel in comfortable panties.

  They’d skipped the interstate and taken the old highways through the northwestern part of Arkansas. The combination of nerves and the winding road were starting to make her nauseous. She needed something to take her mind off it, or she was going to lose her pancakes.

  “This isn’t going to be easy,” he muttered. “I wish I had time to school you on shifter life.”

  “Seems like maybe you would’ve had time if you hadn’t been ignoring me for hours.”

  He glanced at her, his mouth grim. “You don’t have to do this, Kerri. Really.”

  “They’re your family, right?”

  He nodded, eyes on the road. “Sort of. They were.”

  She wanted to push. Why weren’t they still his family? Instead, she said, “And they’re in danger, right?”

  He nodded again.

  “Then we have to try to help them.”

  Silence filled the truck once again. Kerrigan stared out the front window hoping to calm her stomach.

  “They aren’t like normal people. Don’t expect that, okay? They’ll know you’re human, and there are other humans who belong to the pack, but don’t expect them to treat you like a human. They’re animalistic. They will want to smell you… like I did.”

  Kerrigan froze. That’s what he’d done the night he fell asleep on her couch.

  “Smell me?”

  He nodded.

  “What… do I smell like?”

  He breathed a long sigh before he whispered, “You smell wonderful. You smell like you’re mine.”

  She stared at his profile, his words making her feel tingly inside. Yes, she was still angry, but when he said things like that, it felt so right. As if it was an irrefutable truth. She was his.

  “They’re going to wonder why you aren’t marked.”

  “Marked?”

  “As my mate, you should carry my mark, but we haven’t… gotten that far yet. This is all happening too fast. I tried to slow things down… I tried to…” He shook his head, glaring at the road. “We’ll tell them I waited to mark you because you wanted a human ceremony first.”

  Geez. “Okay.”

  “They might test you. Loyalty is very important to wolves.”

  “What do you mean? What kind of tests?”

  His hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Unmated males might—“ he cut off, his jaw clenched tight. “They might show interest in you. Try to seduce you.”

  “What?” she squeaked.

  “And females too. They’ll challenge you.”

  Females? “But I’m not interested in girls.”

  Trager shot her a thunderous look. “Not what I meant.”

  “Oh. Wait…” It hit her like a smack to the forehead. Her fingers went numb. Females would try to seduce him. The idea did nothing to help her nausea.

  “We’ll have to rely on our bond. It will be fine.” He sounded like he was trying to convince himself as much as her.

  “We have that? A bond?”

  His gaze shot to her. “Don’t you feel it?”

  She felt something. Everything with Trager had been different than what she’d had before. She cared more than she wanted to. Caring was risky. She’d learned that with her class, with her father, with Ethan.

  She turned to stare out the window.

  “Do you?” he demanded. “Tell me now, or I swear to god, I’ll pull over and make you feel it.”

  “Yes,” she barely whispered.

  ***

  The sun was sinking behind the trees when they finally parked the truck. The dirt road they were on ended and they had arrived at their destination. Which, to Kerrigan, appeared to be nowhere.

  Trager turned to her. “Remember, think like an animal. Stay by my side, and follow my lead.”

  “Okay.”

  He looked like he wanted to say more. She did too, but couldn’t begin to form the words. Didn’t know where to start. Her feelings were too jumbled.

  “They’re waiting for us,” he said.

  They both got out of the truck, and Kerrigan followed Trager through the trees into a clearing. He stopped walking, his spine going rigid, when three massive wolves prowled out of the woods. Black, white, and one she recognized as Farrow.

  She glared at him.

  Trager angled his body so he was slightly in front of her.

  The black wolf snarled, but before the sound was gone, he’d shifted to human. Kerrigan gasped. Black hair, like night, and a countenance to match, his hateful glare focused on Trager. And dear god, he was stark naked.

  “You don’t come to the boundary a human,” he barked, making her jump.

  “I come as my mate does.” Trager’s voice was quieter, but just as lethal.

  “Your mate?” The black-haired man did a slow, head-to-toe pass before returning his glare to Trager. “This can’t be your mate.”

  Kerrigan was about to ask the stupid jerk what he meant by that, but she was distracted by the other two wolves shifting. Her eyes almost popped out of her head when she saw the white wolf was a woman. A naked woman. Perfectly proportioned. Smooth skin. Tiny waist. Voluptuous breasts that sat high on her chest, and hips that flared. Legs that went on for decades, nevermind days.

  Kerrigan glanced at her wolf, but he wasn’t looking at the lovely specimen of nudity.

  “She’s mine,” Trager said, “And I want an audience with the alpha.”

  “Prove it. Where’s her mark?”

  “She isn’t marked yet.”

  The man laughed, a cruel and mocking sound that gave Kerrigan chills. “Of course she isn’t.” His gaze became heated as he stared at her. She resisted the urge to cross her arms so he couldn’t ogle her breasts. “And why is that, little kitten?” he asked her. “Is Trager not wolf enough for you?”

  “Don’t talk to her like that.”

  “Oh, you’re not in the position to tell me what to do, now are you, straggler?” He stepped closer to Kerrigan. Tilted his head to the side, measuring her up. His scrutiny made her feel exposed. Bile rose in her throat.

  “I could show you what a real wolf can do, little kitten.” His words were deep and velvety. “Mmm. A body like yours? We’d go all night. Make you come so hard.”

  Ew. Was he for real? What, did he think she was going to swoon with a little dirty talk, and then run into the woods with him to boink?

  She looked at Trager. He was seething. Beads of sweat rolled down his temple, and his face was the color of the sky before sunset. She’d only seen him like this when Farrow the wolf was in his cabin. Except this was worse. Was he about to turn?

  She had to do something, fast. Think like an animal. Follow his lead. Seemed like the wolves were all about claiming what was theirs. Their land, their lovers. And they talked dirty, fought dirty.

  “Nice offer, really.” She infused her voice with as much sarcasm as she could muster. Stepping into Trager’s arms, she plastered her body to his. Hands on his neck, she kissed him hard on the lips. His tongue dove in, tan
gling with hers for a second, before she pulled away enough to look over her shoulder. “But I’ve already got my wolf, and he’s already made me come. Hard.”

  God, she couldn’t believe she’d just said that out loud to three perfect strangers. To cover her blush, she turned her face into Trager’s neck. His arms tightened around her waist. His breath was ragged, but he managed to speak.

  “She isn’t marked yet, because we’re waiting until after the human ceremony.” The words came through clenched teeth. “She’s…”—he swallowed, twice— “… claimed me, publicly. That should be enough to gain an audience with the alpha.”

  There was a long silence.

  “Alpha will want to see this, Vesh.” The voice was low and sultry. And female.

  More silence. Trager ran his hand over her back, as if to soothe her. Or perhaps to soothe himself.

  “Very well,” Vesh said, his voice absent of its seductive ring. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Trager held Kerrigan’s hand in an iron grip. He kept reminding himself to loosen it, but it didn’t stay that way. He took a deep, steadying breath. She’d claimed him. Damn it, she’d done that. In front of his enemies. She probably didn’t know what she’d done, and probably didn’t mean it anyway. But in the eyes of the shifters, there was no going back.

  She’d accepted him.

  He was the only one who knew it wasn’t true. Not in her heart, where it mattered.

  The Ozarka camp had grown exponentially since Trager last saw it. Twelve years away, and it was almost unrecognizable. Cabins had become lodges. And there were so many of them. The pack must be twice what it was when he was a wolfling.

  As they walked through the camp, Trager saw people he recognized. People he’d been friends with long ago. He’d thought maybe they would treat him with indifference if he ever came back. Instead, everyone they passed glared at him. Accusing, as if he’d brought some harm upon the pack by being tossed out. It was unfair, but ultimately, he didn’t care. He wasn’t planning on staying.

  He glanced at his mate. She had her eye on a group of kids, chasing fireflies. Her eyes were bright, like she’d forgotten where they were.