by Maddy Barone
Taye nodded dubiously. He wasn’t sure what the draw of racing a barrel would be, but his mate seemed pretty proud of it. “I’ll get you a horse.”
“I have a h…” Carla trailed off. Her horse was at her parents’ place, fifty years in the past. It hurt to think about it, so she didn’t. The hall he was leading her down was narrow and dim. She noticed the walls were bare. Any boring motel art had been removed along with the light fixtures. The doors still looked solid, with their brass numbers still attached.
Taye stopped in front room 121 and opened the door. “This is our room. I guess, uh, it’s pretty plain. But you can decorate some if you want.”
Actually, Carla admitted, it was nice. Homey. The bed was a double, the frame bolted to the floor just as it had been fifty years ago. It was covered by a patchwork quilt made of denim squares. Hopefully the mattress was not fifty years old. Not that it mattered since she wasn’t going to be sleeping on it. Curtains made of rough woven denim were pulled back so the setting sun could come in through the long windows. In one corner was a small round table with two straight-backed chairs. The polished wood floor was covered by two good-sized oval rag rugs, one beside the bed and the other in front of a sofa made from carved wood slats and cushions made of the same denim squares. The original dresser was against the wall, the mirror a little wavy.
Taye ushered her over to the couch and told her to sit, then closed the curtains and went around and lit a few lamps. Carla ignored his order to sit, dumped her purse on the floor by the couch and limped to the adjoining room. It was completely empty, not a stick of furniture in it. She went back to the couch. It was comfortable enough. She was so tired she would sleep fine right where she was. She noticed a tattered paperback book on the end table, its cover curled up and almost bleached of color. She tried to read the title, expecting a western or a thriller. Love’s Last Passion? Love’s Lost Passion? Good grief. How had that survived the apocalypse? She remembered Taye mentioning something about reading romance novels. So he could please her in bed? Yikes!
“We’ll get you what you need for your private room.” Taye knelt before her and grabbed one of her boots. “Wiggle your foot, sweetheart. Let’s get these off.”
Carla straightened with a snap. “I can do it. You should clean up your cuts. You know, from the fight.”
“Don’t worry about them. They’re fine.”
Carla snatched her foot away from him. “I can do it! And there’s a lot of blood on your shirt. You should take care of that. It could get infected.”
Taye was shaking his head at her. “The Pack don’t get infections. But I’ll clean up if it will make you happy. Then I’ll go get us some food. Stay in here, okay? The boys are pretty curious about you. I don’t want you to run into any of them yet without me along.”
Alone in the room, Carla removed her jacket and took off her boots. She considered leaving the boots on since they were the only weapons she had, but she had seen Taye fight. She was pretty sure she was defenseless against him. Besides, her feet hurt bad. She held her feet up one at a time to the lamplight and saw oozing blisters. She should clean them. She wondered what the bathroom was like, and wandered over to the door she hadn’t gone through yet. The bathroom looked exactly like a bathroom from home, absolutely pristine, with a bucket full of water on the floor beside the tub. What she wouldn’t give for a hot bath. Or a flushing toilet. Or any running water. Hotel towels must be indestructible. Two hung over the rail above the toilet, a bit gray but clean. She dipped a corner of one in the bucket of water and used it to clean her feet as well as she could.
Taye returned in fifteen minutes. He was wearing only cut-off shorts and carried a tray. He set the tray down on the round table in the corner and turned to face her. She examined his chest only because she wanted to see how bad the cut was. Yep, that was the only reason. Of course, she had to admit it was a very nice chest. The man was buff. But she couldn’t see any cut, at least not that would have bled so much. Maybe it had been someone else’s blood? The slice on the inside of his forearm was only a thin red line against his brown skin. She was sure he had been badly hurt. She had a blood smear on her shirt from when he had grabbed her and jumped over the edge of the balcony to the floor. How had he done that? He was strong, yes, but no one was that strong. She was so lost in thought that he was standing right in front of her before she saw him move.
“Come on, let’s eat.”
If Carla hadn’t been so hungry she would have resisted. But she was starving. Breakfast had been a long time ago. She sat at the table and let him serve her. But when Carla saw the blood oozing out of the meat she almost gagged. “Didn’t you cook it?” she demanded.
“Sure. See? It’s brown on the outside.”
“It’s red on the inside!”
Taye put his knife down and looked at her with a small frown. “You like your meat brown all the way through?” He sounded horrified.
“Yes, I like it cooked. Sheesh.”
“None of us eat our meat all brown. And when we’re in our fur—I mean, we don’t always cook it at all. You can make yours the way you like it from now on. Just remember to leave ours nice and red. For tonight, you can eat it like this or fill up on potatoes and greens.”
Carla sawed off all the mostly done edges of her steak, and Taye gave her his too, and she ate those and the potatoes and mushy green beans. All in all it wasn’t too bad. And the bread was really good. “So, who does the cooking around here?”
Taye slathered more butter on his bread. “The boys take turns. Now that you’re here, you can take over.”
Carla played with the last few beans on her plate. “How many live here?”
“Forty-eight. Forty-nine, including you. There’s another hundred fifty or so who aren’t Pack. They don’t live in the den here, but we watch over them.”
“How many women?”
“One.”
“Two, including me?”
“Nah, that is including you.”
Carla put her silverware down carefully, not wanting to be holding a knife if she lost her temper. “I am the only woman here? Just me?”
“Yeah. You are the only female member of the Pack. The Lupa, the Alpha Female.”
“And you think I’m going to cook and clean for all of you?”
Taye looked surprised by the way her voice escalated. “You’re a woman,” he pointed out reasonably, as if she had somehow forgotten that.
“So? Big deal! Let me tell you something. Where I come from women aren’t slaves. We don’t automatically do all the cooking and cleaning just because we’re female. So get this: I am not your maid!”
“You’re my mate, not maid.”
Carla glared. “Because you ‘won’ me in some stupid testosterone contest,” she sneered.
Taye leaned across the table and picked up her clenched fists in his warm callused hands. That luscious scent poured over her. “Sweetheart, you aren’t my mate because I won the Bride Fight. I won the Bride Fight because you’re my mate. Last night when I saw you at Ray’s I knew you were my mate. I wouldn’t have entered if you weren’t.”
“You saw me? When did you see me?”
“At Ray’s, last night. A little after dark. He sent out the notice for the Bride Fight that afternoon. Just about every man in the Pack went to Ray’s to see if you might be the one his wolf chose to be his mate. You were in a room, combing your hair in a mirror. Only it wasn’t a mirror. It was one of those windows where people can see in but not out.” Taye’s voice sank to a growling whisper. “I knew you were my mate when I saw you. All those men, staring at you, imagining you in their beds … I let them live. Even today, when I was fighting, I let them live. But it was hard.” His eyes seemed to almost glow in the lamp light.” Those fools who tried to take you away from me on the way home tonight … They deserved to die for even thinking of touching you. The one who tried to grab you—” His face contorted for a moment, turning so savage that she froze. “If you hadn’t
already dealt with him yourself I would’ve torn his throat out.”
His hands were so warm and he smelled so good that Carla had to try to twist her hands away so she wouldn’t do something that would encourage him. He was appealing but terrifying. He talked about killing men like she talked about swatting flies. But he wouldn’t let go of her hands.
“You’re afraid of me!” he accused. “Don’t be. I would never hurt you. You’re mine.” He pulled her hands to his face and inhaled deeply.
“Stop that!” she said sharply. “I’m not afraid of you.” This was crazy. She was trapped here, like she was some sort of a mail-order bride from the 1800s, expected to cook and clean for a pack of half-wild bachelors, and do more for him at night. She glanced quickly at the bed, and away again. A few days ago she had been a successful music artist from the 21st century, starting to make it big with the second single from her debut CD just breaking into the Top Ten. What was she now? A glorified whore? Hot tears burned her eyes but she refused to cry. She finally managed to jerk her hands away to swipe one under her nose. “Look, we need to get some things straight, okay? I am not going to sleep with you. I don’t even know you.”
Taye frowned, his golden face sad but not angry. “I can understand how you feel. But it’s half killing me to stay this far away from you.” At her furious glare, which she used to cover her fear, he sighed. “You’re right. We need to talk.”
He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his beautiful, bare chest. Carla made herself look away from the inviting golden skin. He was so tempting. In some ways it would be so easy to let him take her to bed. But she had slept with only two men in her life, both of whom she’d been in love with and planning a future with. Derek McDonald had been her high school sweetheart, but when he went to college they had drifted apart. Really, they’d probably been too young to even think of getting married. And Josh Oldham … Even now she inwardly flinched at his memory. He had dumped her for a model a year and a half ago. When she had won the Country Music Star competition last year he had sent her a dozen roses and a card with a sucking-up message about them getting together for dinner sometime. Yeah, right. She had thrown the card away and donated the roses to a hospital.
“Sweetheart, what makes you look like that?”
Carla narrowed her eyes further, enough to start a headache, and decided to be perfectly honest. Maybe that would scare him off. “I don’t like men. I don’t trust men. I had one a couple years ago. He left me because he found another woman he liked better. Really ruined the whole I-love-you-until-death-do-us-part thing. So don’t expect me to fall head over heels in love with you.”
Taye’s arms fell limply and his jaw dropped. “A man left you? He had you and he left you?” He rubbed his eyes tiredly. “I’ve heard there were plenty of women in the Times Before, but what kind of man would leave his woman? I won’t ever do that to you. We’re mates, and wolves mate for life.”
“Uh-huh.” Carla eyed him doubtfully. “So what’s my name supposed to be now? Carla Wolfe?”
“That’s what the people in town will call you. But we’ll call you Lupa.” Taye stood and began piling their empty plates on the tray. He carried it over to the door and put it in the hall outside. He closed the door and leaned on it, staring at her with his dark eyes shimmering like a cat’s in the dim lamp light. “I need to tell you some things. It will sound crazy, but I’m telling the truth. I’m a wolf. I’m the Alpha wolf of this Pack, and of the forty-eight boys in the pack, thirty-two others are wolves too.”
“Uh, okay. They’re your brothers and cousins? Taye Wolfe and his Wolfe Pack. Ha-ha. Cute. Sounds like a band from the ’60s.”
“Brothers in fur, and some of them are cousins by blood. Wolf-born we call it. Carla—” It was the first time he had used her name, and it jolted her as much as his serious tone. “—I don’t want any secrets between us, ever. I don’t want us to be fighting because we don’t take the time to talk about things. I’m a wolf. And I’m not talking about my family name. Most of the time I’m a man, but sometimes I’m a wolf.” He searched her face anxiously, then sighed sadly. “You don’t understand a word I’m trying to tell you.”
Carla carefully brushed some bread crumbs off the arm of the chair, avoiding looking at him because she was wondering if he were a little touched. “Actually, no.”
“I guess I’ll have to show you. Remember, I’m your mate. I’ll never hurt you.”
He raised his arms and took a step forward. Carla frowned and blinked. His arms slimmed, turned hairy gray and hit the floor, his nails tapping against the bare wood. What? Where did—? Carla leapt out of the chair, gaping at the big gray dog standing by the door. No, not a dog. A wolf! Taye was a werewolf! She scrambled back, slamming painfully into the wall. The big wolf—he must outweigh her by a couple hundred pounds!—walked slowly toward her, one large paw at a time. He nudged his nose under her hand and flipped it over his head, just like the farm dog back home, wanting his ears scratched. Her legs gave out and she slid against the wall to the floor. The wolf laid his muzzle on her shoulder, nuzzling her neck through her hair. Her terror subsided slightly when she caught his scent. It really was Taye. He’d kept talking about the Pack, and mates, and … Oh, God. This is what Ray had meant when he called Taye’s Pack ‘those wolves.’
“Oh, my God,” she whispered. “It’s you. You’re…” Her hand shook when she reached to pet the huge head lying heavy on her shoulder. The warmth of his thick gray fur bled into her when he leaned his body against her. “You’re a werewolf.”
A wave of hot air blew against her, and somehow she found herself petting short black hair, pressed against warm bare brown skin. She froze, jerking her hand away. Taye had his face pressed against her neck, breathing deeply. “A wolf,” he murmured into her hair. “Not a werewolf. That’s only in books. I am not controlled by the moon, and I sure don’t eat humans.” He sniffed delicately under her ear and kissed the edge of her jaw. “Well, I might eat you, but only in the good way.” His hand drifted toward her breast.
Carla gave him a shove that made absolutely no impact on him. “Stop that!” she screeched wildly. “Let me go! I already said I wasn’t going to sleep with you. If you try to force me I’ll fight.”
He lifted his head sharply. “Force—”
She cut him off, voice still high and wild. “I won’t win, I know I won’t win, but I won’t make it easy for you! I swear—”
Taye stood up, taking her with him with no effort and standing her on her feet before stepping away. His face was angry—and hurt?—when he scowled at her. “I’m not a rapist,” he snarled. “I won’t force you.” He swung away, raking a hand through his hair. “Why would you think I would hurt you like that?” he demanded, turning back to her. “What have I done to make you believe I would hurt you?”
Carla opened her mouth to snap out examples, and after a few moments of reviewing his actions throughout the day, closed it. “Nothing,” she admitted reluctantly. She dug a bare toe into the smooth wood of the floor. “I just don’t … It’s just that everything has gone crazy. I don’t know where I am, or how I got here or … or anything. I don’t know you! And now I’m supposed to be married to you? Mated to you? Whatever that is, and chief cook and bottle washer to a bunch of we—wolves! I don’t know what’s going on. I don’t know how I can live here, in this crazy time. I don’t know anything except I want to go home!”
*
Taye flinched at her wail. The wolf inside him was frantic to comfort his mate. Her tears were killing him. He lost his own anger and pulled her reluctant body against his chest. “Shh,” he soothed. “It’s going to be okay. We’ll work it out.” Without her boots the top of her head was only a little above his shoulder, putting her eyes right at his collarbone. All at once her spine melted and she slumped against him, weeping. Holding her like this, rubbing a hand over her cold arms, feeling her tears on his shoulder, was amazing. She was actually clutching his arms. Her trust calmed his
wolf. He picked her up and carried her to the bed, setting her on the edge. She made to push away, but he knelt on the floor and let her put a little distance between them, still smoothing his hands over her arms. “Until you feel different, this bed is only for sleeping, okay? Don’t be afraid that I will ambush you during the night. I can wait until you’re ready.”
“I can sleep on the couch,” she offered hopefully.
The wolf that lived inside him, the one who had chosen her for his mate, didn’t like that idea. He was Alpha; no one ever went against his wishes. He shook his head. “No, we’ll share the bed.”
“It’s not that big,” she argued, “and you are.”
“We’ll share the bed,” he said with finality. He watched her acceptance but her scent indicated she was still frightened. Maybe she needed some time to herself. Heaven knew he did. His wolf wanted his mate and didn’t understand why Taye wasn’t making love to her right now. “I’m going out for a run. I’ll be gone about two hours.” He waved at the bathroom. “You want a bath while I’m out?”
He saw she perked up a little. “A bath? A real bath?”
He led her to the bathroom. Leaning over the tub he put the drain stopper down and turned the water on. “There’s soap there, and towels.”
Her eyes were fixed with something close to lust on the steam rising from the water pouring from the faucet. “You have running water? Hot running water?”
Apparently he had finally done something right. “Yeah. The boys have kept this water warm ever since we got home. I figured you’d like to take a hot bath after we … Um. I’ve heard that women are a bit sore after the first time or two they make love.”
The blissful look on Carla’s face altered to surprise. “I’m not a virgin.”
Rage punched him in the gut, taking his breath away. She had said she had had a man. She had said that. But he’d thought they had only been courting. He simply couldn’t imagine any man leaving the woman who gave him her body. Making love was binding. What lousy cur would abandon his wife for another woman? He deserved to have his throat ripped out and his entrails burned.