Mating Dance

by Merryn Dexter

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  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Mating Dance

  Copyright 2016 by Merryn Dexter

  ISBN: 978-1-68361-048-9

  Cover art by Fiona Jayde

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work, in whole or in part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Decadent Publishing Company, LLC

  Look for us online at:

  www.decadentpublishing.com

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  A Mate’s Redeeming Touch by Merryn Dexter

  Dear Readers

  It was a joy to return to the Black Hills and spend time with the Tao Pack again. When the opportunity arose to create a story for this special Matchmakers line, I jumped at the chance to revisit my beloved characters from A Mate’s Healing Touch and A Mate’s Redeeming Touch and introduce another member of the Burrows family.

  In telling the story of Sander and Rory I wanted to write an “imperfect” romance, a story where things go wrong for the couple more often than they go right. I knew they would get a Happy Ever After (this is why I love to write romance!), I just hope they can both forgive me for leading them a merry dance along the way.

  I would love to hear what you think about this ‘Second Chance’ romance. You can find me on Facebook and Twitter via the links below.

  https://www.facebook.com/merryn.dexter

  https://twitter.com/MerrynDexter

  Alternatively, please email me - merryndexter@gmail.com .

  Cheers!

  Merryn

  Black Hills Wolves Stories

  Wolf’s Return

  What a Wolf Wants

  Black Hills Desperado

  Wolf’s Song

  Claiming His Mate

  When Hell Freezes

  Portrait of a Lone Wolf

  Alpha in Disguise

  A Wolf’s Promise

  Reluctant Mate

  Diamond Moon

  Wolf on a Leash

  Tempting the Wolf

  Naming His Mate

  A Wolf Awakens

  The Wolf and the Butterfly

  Infiltrating Her Pack

  Omega’s Heart

  Rebel’s Claw

  Claiming the She-Wolf

  Worth Fighting For

  Dangerous

  Uncaged

  Promiscuous Wolf

  Disquieted Souls

  A Cougar Among Wolves

  Long Road Home

  A Mate’s Healing Touch

  Another Chance

  Broken Silence

  A Wolf’s Contract

  A Mate’s Redeeming Touch

  A Cougar Among Wolves

  Pleasure Me

  Craving His Love

  Jasmine Moon

  Winter Solstice Run

  Wolf’s Holiday

  Winter Magic

  Winter Secrets

  Winter Solstice Ménage

  Wolf in Winter Clothing

  Murder in Los Lobos

  Scent of Murder

  Scent of the Hunt

  Scent of His Woman

  Scent of Madness

  Coming Soon

  Secrets of the Hunt

  Salvaged Souls

  His to Protect

  Also by Merryn Dexter

  A Mate’s Healing Touch

  A Mate’s Redeeming Touch

  Silver Moon

  Soul of Flame

  Mating Dance

  The Matrons of the Tao Pack are on the hunt, seeking out unmated couples who would be a perfect match – even if they don’t know it yet.

  Sander Burrows is a wolf with a broken spirit. During thirty-five years away from home and pack, he made a life for himself among the humans. Now, tragedy and a sense of failure drive him home into the arms of his loving family.

  Aurora “Rory” Hanson hates Sander almost as much as she loves him. Humiliated at seventeen when he stood her up at the annual spring dance, she has since lived a life of relative solitude on the fringes of the pack.

  When Sander catches sight and scent of Rory, feelings run hot. His wolf recognizes his mate and he’ll do just about anything to overcome Rory’s dislike of him. Even accept the assistance of four interfering busybodies.

  The matrons want the old spring dance revived and what better way to “help” two fated wolves to happiness than to force Rory and Sander to work together on the organizing committee.

  Finding love doesn’t get any easier even for wolves in their fifties. Misunderstandings, old hurts, and the sharp edge of Miss Kathy’s tongue must all be overcome if two old friends are to achieve true happiness.

  Dedication

  To M. who is my perfect match.

  Mating Dance

  A Black Hills Wolves Story

  By

  Merryn Dexter

  r

  Chapter One

  Rain battered the windshield as Sander Burrows forced the beaten sedan too fast around the corner. The wipers were shot and the scrape of rubber against glass tortured his sensitive ears. Mickey Sullivan, his partner for the past two years, braced himself against the side window as he swigged the cold dregs of a cup of takeout coffee.

  “Jesus, Lashes! We’ll be no good to the kid if we end up in a fender bender.”

  Sander grunted in apology but didn’t ease up on the gas. Mickey was right, but the details of the 911 call had turned his guts to acid. The first responders were ahead of them, but the system notified the taskforce of incidents in the neighborhood.

  The “shots fired” report came from a block Sander knew well. He’d spent a lot of time there, both on and off duty, trying to get Nick Warren back on track. A good kid, like most he dealt with, who’d gone off the rails after his father died. Seeking a masculine role model in the wrong place, Nick had ended up a runner for a mid-level dealer. It wasn’t just about the money it put in his pocket although Nick peddled a self-persuasive “it helps my mom and my sister” line of justification.

  Sander had never argued with him on that point. Instead, he kept his message to the kid simple—be honest with himself. Being in the gang gave Nick a sense of purpose, of brotherhood—something Sander could appreciate, having been born into a pack. The key lay in getting the kid to recognize it took more courage to leave a group run by a bad leader than it did to stay.

  Sander’s brother Stefan had shown such courage, fleeing with his family when their mad alpha brought the pack into violent disarray. Guilt still gnawed Sander’s conscience. Youthful wanderlust meant he hadn’t been there to defend his niece from a madman’s predations. The same guilt kept him away still in spite of his family’s pleas to come home. Th
ey had returned to Los Lobos, the hometown he had left at twenty-two, feeling trapped. Magnum was dead and his son, Drew, continued to prove his worth as the alpha the Tao Pack needed.

  Flashing blue and red lights blurred by the relentless downpour pulled Sander back to the present, and he slammed the car to the curb just before the taped-off cordon. He could hear Mickey panting in his wake as he showed his badge to the bored-looking patrolman. Hitting full speed, he ducked under the yellow tape and ran for the dreary, gray apartment building. A young kid, barely old enough to wear his dark-blue uniform stood nervously outside the door. Rain dripped off the brim of his hat, and he looked cold and scared as Sander stopped to show his ID again. Scared could get him killed. He paused.

  “Take your hand off your holster, son,” he growled. “Don’t put your hand near that goddamn thing unless you intend to use it.” Everything inside screamed at him to hurry, to get to the fourth-floor apartment and check on Nick, but the rookie spoke to every protective urge of a natural dominant.

  “Go, Lashes. I’ll sort this out.” Mickey’s out-of-breath words released the self-imposed trap, and Sander slammed through the door, hitting the first-floor landing with a leap no human could achieve. Fear over what he would discover made him reckless, and he clamped down, wresting control back from his wolf. The wolf viewed Nick and his family as theirs, a substitute for the family they couldn’t be there to protect. Failure was a drumbeat, throbbing in time with the vein pulsing in his temple, echoing in every step as he climbed higher.

  The fourth-floor corridor lay empty, the iron tang of blood hit his nose, and a keening sob stung his ears as he hurtled toward apartment 4G. The scarred white door stood ajar, a taunting reminder of all the times he’d passed through it in happier circumstances. He paused, bracing against the frame as he once again battled his wolf’s aggression. His palm came away sticky, the smear of blood a precursor to the horror awaiting him.

  The sight of the shabby brown carpet pulled him up short. Wet boot prints and other darker, viscous things marred the usually spotless surface. Angie won’t like the mess. A ridiculous thought. Nick’s house-proud mother had a damn sight more to worry about than dirty carpet. He scanned the room, his mind cataloguing the scene with the automatic detachment he’d developed after thirty-five years as a cop.

  Good genes could explain away his youthful appearance for only so long then he moved on. Louisville was the third city he’d lived and worked in, fudging his age and records each time. He’d chosen it because he could drive an hour in any direction and be deep in a state forest or park. The guys from his precinct already teased him about his good looks, “Lashes” a reference to his pretty gray eyes framed by long dark eyelashes. He’d stayed too long this time; the desperate need to save kids like Nick had kept him lingering months past his set date to move.

  His gaze skipped again and again to the little hand, so white against the dark blood soaking into the carpet beneath it. The keening voice of a mother in agony rose and fell before cutting off. Forcing his attention toward Angie, he stepped back under the force of the hatred flashing in her eyes. She rose on shaking legs, chest rising and falling in a rapid cadence as she tried to control her sobs enough to speak.

  “Get out of my home.” The waves of pain rolling across the room almost dropped him to his knees. Her ponytail hung askew, eyeliner smeared across her red cheeks like a ruin as she raised a shaking finger in his direction. “You. You did this!” The accusation knifed his heart, and he fought the urge to throw back his head and howl his anguish to the ceiling. The wolf bayed for blood and revenge, but the human part of Sander knew the triggerman would be another kid. Just like the one curled protectively around his sister’s body. Another victim of the harsh reality of living in this part of town.

  He raised his hand in supplication, reaching over the fallen bodies of Nick and his little sister as he appealed to the broken woman. For what, he didn’t know. For forgiveness? Fuck that, she has every right to her anger. He dropped his hand to his side and forced himself to stare at the dead children before him. Whatever his intentions, he’d caused this.

  With a single, silent nod, Sander turned and left the room, Angie’s rising sobs battering his soul. The road to hell was paved with such things and he was bone-tired. Trudging down the corridor, he took out his cell phone and pressed a couple of keys. The smell of iron filled his nose, and he switched out the handset to his left. He studied the drying blood on his right palm as his last connection to sanity buzzed once, twice, three times before the laughing tones of his beloved sister-in-law pulled him back from the edge.

  “Sander! Hello you gorgeous thing. You called just in time. Your little brother is being insufferable and I am all set to leave him.” Her voice faded as if she turned away from the mouthpiece. “Stefan, it’s your brother, and he’s promised to whisk me away from this life of misery you subject me to.”

  The affection in her voice quite belied her words, and Sander smiled as he pictured Marjorie, red bobbed hair swinging, green eyes sparkling as she teased her mate. A smacking sound followed by a squeal and an outraged laugh narrowed the miles separating him from the truth he’d been ignoring for far too long.

  “I need to come home, Margie.” His voice, husky with unshed tears, betrayed his fraying emotions as he shoved his way out of the apartment building. On the ground, he pushed past his partner, the kid, the flashing lights. All of it. His feet pounded on the slick pavement, duster raincoat billowing behind him as he ran hard. Ran toward what he needed—family, pack, the rolling majesty of the Black Hills.

  Her gentle response offered a balm to his tattered soul. “We’re here, Sander. We’re here and we need you to come home, too.”

  ***

  Four weeks later

  The month since his return to Los Lobos had passed in a blur of activity. Stefan and Marjorie threw him in at the deep end, keeping him so busy he fell asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow. It didn’t stop the nightmares waking him, more often than not in a pool of sweat and regret, but it kept him from brooding too much during the day. It was impossible to keep a secret in a houseful of wolves. If the screams weren’t enough, the sour reek of sweat on his sheets would be. The family chose not to mention them, and he chose to be grateful for their discretion.

  Following the destruction of the barn, the former meeting place and source of so many painful memories, Drew had commissioned Stefan to construct a new function hall for the pack. Ross Luparell and his team helped draw the plans while Sander had been roped in as heavy labor. Good honest work, and it seemed important to demonstrate his commitment to assisting the pack in achieving its goals after so long away. A hard, brief conversation with Ryker, the pack enforcer, followed by a longer, no less tough one with Drew made it clear they expected everyone to contribute.

  Recent events had tightened security, and no one rejoined the pack without being questioned. Sander’s past among the humans as well as his familial connection helped to ease his return, but he needed to prove he could be trusted. Single males were subject to close scrutiny following the terrible events over the winter and without Stefan’s support it would have been more of a challenge to fit in.

  Rolling his shoulders to ease the ache in his back, Sander lifted the thick protective goggles onto his forehead and wiped the sweat from his brow with the bottom of his T-shirt. He paused to flip his middle finger at his nephew Caleb when he whistled in admiration.

  “Nice tone, Unc! Don’t let Hannah see or I’ll have some competition.”

  Sander snorted and cuffed Caleb before slinging an arm around his shoulders. He was such a good man, a son any father would be proud of, and his utter adoration for his mate was returned wholeheartedly.

  “Come on now, Caleb. You know there’s only one female for me. We may have just met, but she owns me heart and soul. I’m looking forward to our hot date tonight.” His nephew’s laughing agreement almost covered the sound of rustling behind him.
Sander turned, studying the bushes dotting the edge of the clearing, trying to locate the movement.

  The area, even cleared of the charred ruins of the barn, still held a lingering scent of smoke. At least the fire had cleansed the spot of the overwhelming odors of blood, sweat, and pain. The rest of the crew described them as testament to the horrors of Magnum’s cruelty. The land had been scoured and a fresh layer of dirt laid before the construction of the hall started. Wood shavings, sweat, and the myriad personal scents of the crew crisscrossed the ground.

  He raised his head, taking a few steps away from the construction area to draw cleaner air into his lungs. There. Cranberries and vanilla. The scent tickled the back of his mind. He’d caught traces of it a time or two around the house. It tugged on some old memories he couldn’t quite place.

  There was no movement in the thick undergrowth, and, after a couple of minutes’ study, he shrugged, making his way back to the worksite to pack away his equipment. Caleb waited by their truck, his gray eyes, the Burrows eyes, shining with excitement. Sander hurried to finish, not wanting to keep his nephew away from his mate and child any longer than necessary.

  Tracking down the owner of the intriguing scent could wait for another day.

  Chapter Two

  Rory Hanson held her breath, lower lip clamped hard between her teeth to keep from making a noise as she peered through the tiny gap in the bushes. You should have minded your own business, Rory. Should’ve just kept walking. She’d been making her way to town to drop off a fresh batch of herbs to her new friend Bridie when curiosity got the better of her. The refurbishment and opening of the restaurant had been a blessing as it gave her another local customer to supplement her meager income. The fact the owner had become a rare friend was a surprising, but very welcome, offshoot.