Evernight Publishing
www.evernightpublishing.com
Copyright© 2014 Angelique Voisen
ISBN: 978-1-77130-924-0
Cover Artist: Sour Cherry Designs
Editor: Karyn White
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
DEDICATION
To Anna, who feeds me the best sugar-free treats.
SUGAR-FREE BETA
Wolves of New Haven, 1
Angelique Voisen
Copyright © 2014
Chapter One
It was the pain that woke Jack Lee up. Tendrils of it streaked from his bandaged left calf and up his thigh, making him whimper. The bandages were soaked and needed changing, but he couldn’t get up. Not yet at least. Not when there was something large and heavy lying on top of his chest and breathing down on him.
Jack had no idea how he got his leg bitten—at least it felt like it was bitten. Heck, it felt like something with teeth had gnawed into it. He also had no idea why he was naked under the sheets and why there was a large, reddish dog lying on top of his chest either.
What the hell happened to him last night? The more he racked at his brains, the more it hurt to think. He was supposed to catch the last train back to the Upper Cities, but he’d missed it for some reason. He was on his way to his motel to pick up his belongings, but he never made it there.
Jack frowned and strained his neck to peer at the room. Clean royal blue wallpaper and wooden furniture. For some reason, the room smelled of chocolates, vanilla, and musk. The scattered candy wrappers explained the chocolate, but not the other two smells. Vanilla and musk were decidedly familiar smells, smells he could affectionately associate with a particular someone, but he couldn’t place who yet.
Jack tried to sit up to have a better view of the room, but a deep rumble reminded him why he couldn’t. “Get off me, you big—” Jack began, not bothering to finish.
His heart thudded painfully against his chest, and goose bumps broke across the surface of his skin. One quick look was enough to tell him that the beast on top of him wasn’t a dog. For one thing, it was bloody huge. The snout was long and slender, and probably hid razor sharp teeth. Everything about the animal’s large but graceful form screamed predator, as if it was specially built to take down large prey.
Jack couldn’t breathe. This was no dog. It was a damn fine huge wolf, and he was certain it was no ordinary wolf either. The sight of the animal wrenched something awful inside him. Something that was hard to swallow—distant memories of pain, of always cowering and hiding in small corners, and of a handsome and leering face.
Why couldn’t it be a simple dog? Why did it have to be his own kind? Looking at the werewolf in front of him, Jack realized that he could never be like this wolf. He was a submissive wolf and would always remain at the bottom of any pack hierarchy. He’d always amounted to nothing except a plaything. It was all coming painfully back to him now.
Jack was chewing on his lower lip when the wolf’s amber eyes opened. He swallowed, feeling its large paws shift on his chest. It opened its mouth, revealing an impressive set of teeth, and … it let out a yawn. Jack steadied himself for an admonishing blow or a rake of claws to remind him of his place, but it never came.
He’s being extra careful. His paws aren’t even making a scratch on my human skin. At that encouraging thought, Jack looked the wolf in the eyes. Instead of the negative feelings he’d usually associate with dominant wolves, he felt different towards this big red.
Gathering his wits and courage, Jack said a cheerful, “Good morning.” He blinked when the wolf extended its long pink tongue to lick at his cheek. Surprise turned to annoyance when the wolf continued licking and drool began to drip down his neck. Jack wouldn’t be surprised if there was drool on the pillows. Good thing this wasn’t his bed or he would’ve thrown a fit.
“Stop that.” Jack grabbed the scruff of its rich reddish-brown fur, pulling his face away from its prodding tongue. “Can you get off me? You’re damn heavy.”
Amber eyes stared at him for a moment.
“Off!” Jack demanded, unsure if the big wolf would listen. To his surprise, it did. It rolled off him and settled beside him on the large bed, great head turned towards him. Jack sat up slowly. The wolf flicked its tail to and fro. Hesitantly, Jack reached out to stroke the fur on its back.
The big red let out a satisfied rumble. Why wasn’t he changing form? Was he more comfortable in his second form than his human one? Jack was uncertain. Most dominant wolves usually asserted their rights over their lesser wolves, but this wolf was acting more like a dog than a wolf.
Most dominant wolves usually asserted their rights over their lesser wolves. Jack licked his lips. Did Jack belong to this wolf now? Strangely, he didn’t dread the thought. In fact, a thrill of excitement shot through him at the prospect of finally belonging to someone who could treat him right. Would the wolf take him though? That was another question worth pondering, but Jack found he was eager to convince the other wolf of the benefits of keeping him.
A nudge on his injured leg parted Jack from his thoughts. Catching sight of those large jaws close on his calf, he yelped. Fear stabbed through him again, reminding him that a wolf would never be a dog.
“What the hell are you doing?” Jack tried to push the red wolf back, but it continued nudging at his wound. His fear receded when he realized the wolf wasn’t planning on biting him.
“All right. I get it.” Jack let out a huff and began to unwrap the bandage. Once the wound was exposed, the wolf leaned its great head and began to lick at the bite. Admittedly, the bite looked horrible. Like the world’s biggest dog bite in fact. Pain stung Jack briefly as the wolf’s tongue touched the open wound.
“Look, this isn’t helping—” Jack stopped short. Was it his imagination, or did the wound hurt less? He could only stare as the wolf continued to lap at the blood. No. It wasn’t his imagination. By some miracle, the wound was closing.
When only a pink scar remained, the red wolf took its place beside him once again.
“Aren’t you going to change, you big dog?” Jack had a sneaking suspicion he knew the human form this particular wolf wore, but he wasn’t a hundred percent certain. Was it possible that the man beneath the wolf was shy? It was just like him.
“You saved me last night, didn’t you?” Jack asked. The red wolf looked at him with what he suspected were sleepy eyes.
It opened its large jaws again and let out a yawn. Seeing it close its eyes, Jack sighed. There was no helping it. He’d have to wait for the wolf to fully wake up. Maybe then he could confront the man behind the fur, and show him just how much he was worth keeping.
****
24 hours earlier
Derrick Starr stared at the caramel frosted cupcake behind its shiny glass casing, and it mutely stared back at him. The brown cake looked moist and dense. The caramel frosting on top of it looked rich and equally tempting. Sheathed under his oversized shirt, his stomach grumbled unhappily. His upper lip trembled. Derrick wanted that cupcake so badly, even more badly than he wanted a new mate.
It was just too bad that he wasn’t getting either the cupcake or a mate anytime soon.
Despite being just in his mid-twenties, Derrick had just found out he had type two diabetes. He knew he should really just avoid coffee
shops, bakeries, cafes, and candy stories altogether so he didn’t have to look at anything sweet. As for finding a mate, being a somewhat porky and hairy diabetic Beta werewolf wasn’t exactly honey in anyone’s pot.
Jared, his previous Gamma partner, had told Derrick that if his human self wasn’t horrible enough, his wolf was practically a “brown sausage on stumpy legs”. A brown sausage that ran on sugar rather than fresh meat, and fresh meat was the only thing real werewolves ate.
That last comment had stung. Stung even more than the verbal abuse he’d had to endure from the lesser wolf.
He was a Beta, damn it, and if he were a real, dominant Beta, he would have smacked the cocky and attractive Gamma around to remind him of his place. Being a Beta, second to an Alpha, should have stood for something in wolf society, but he seldom exercised his power. Derrick couldn’t help it. He was ashamed of his body, and ashamed of both his human and animal halves.
The only reason Jared stayed for as long as he did was because Derrick carried the Starr name, and even if Derrick was exiled from the Starr Mountain Pack, names still carried weight. Maybe the Gamma hoped that Derrick’s family would take him back eventually, but the chances of that were slim, slimmer even than being cured of his diabetes.
If Jared had truly cared for him, he’d know that bringing up something sensitive like his family was a heartache that never truly went away. No matter how many times Derrick claimed that being a lone wolf not tied to any pack suited him just fine, being alone all the time with no one to turn to wasn’t exactly what anyone wanted.
“Hey, man, are you ordering? You’re holding up the queue,” an irate voice said behind the counter.
“One black coffee,” Derrick mumbled, still staring at the caramel frosted cupcake and imagining how he’d like to scoop out the frosting and lick it off someone.
What would really be ideal was to lick all that frosting off Jared’s smooth and bronze chest. He could have the Gamma lying on his belly and baring his neck in submission while he’d smear the frosting all over his smooth chest. Then he’d lower his head and lick lazy and idle circles. He’d torment and tease the Gamma until he was begging and whimpering for Derrick to take him.
Sure, if I don’t mind my blood sugar level going bonkers from licking all that sugar. It’s on a dangerous level as it is.
Derrick shouldn’t have been too surprised that the Gamma had simply left him without a note along with all the bills and credit cards in his wallet.
Stop it. You’re just punishing yourself.
The signs were all there. If Jared’s endless excuses and the smell of other men’s cologne, sweat, and sex on the Gamma’s clothes weren’t enough, the ever-increasing nights Derrick spent alone in bed while vehemently decimating bar after bar of sugar-free chocolate should have been a clue.
I was just afraid that he’d leave me. Now that it was done, Derrick felt all emptied out, like someone had slit his belly and yanked out all his insides. But he also felt a little sliver of relief. He couldn’t see Jared and him working out anyway. The boy was too free-spirited and flirty for his own good. Derrick, meanwhile, was a reserved and private individual.
His idea of a good date was a romantic and quiet night out. Maybe watching a good movie while munching on a few bags of Raisinets and going for a run in the woods surrounding New Haven afterward, in the area where the local pack wouldn’t bother him and his imaginary mate. Being able to no longer eat Raisinets wasn’t that big of an issue. Derrick could replace them with sugar-free chocolate bars. A mate, on the other hand, wasn’t as easy to replace.
Jared breaking up with him was a good sign, not a bad one. Derrick could start over, be healthier, and maybe find another mate out there, a mate who’d accept all of his big, hairy, and sugar-free shy self.
Yeah, right. Derrick snorted.
Giving one last lingering look at the cupcake, he grabbed his piteous cup of black coffee and asked the guy behind the counter if he had any extra sweeteners.
“Yeah, hold on.”
Now that Derrick was no longer distracted by the cupcake, he studied the barista. He’d automatically assumed that the server was a scruffy-looking college kid, but the man who stood behind the counter was older, maybe in his mid-twenties.
While he still had a scruffy look about him because of all that shaggy brown hair, he was tall, good-looking, and probably straight. The most interesting feature about him was his slightly slanted eyes, telling Derrick that he maybe had a mix of Chinese in his bloodline somewhere. Derrick watched the line of his back and the curve of his ass when he bent over a drawer to pull out two packets of Equal. Nice butt.
“Thanks.” Derrick swiped the two packets, surprised when the guy touched his hairy arm. An odd shiver bolted up Derrick’s arm, and the other man quickly withdrew, a strange expression on his face.
Probably thinks I’m a weirdo.
“Were you just ogling at my butt?” the barista asked him so frankly and matter-of-factly that Derrick blinked a few times just to make sure he’d heard those words right.
He could feel his cheeks turning red and was sure the barista could see it despite the monster of a beard that covered his cheeks and chin.
“What?” Derrick managed to choke out, but his words came out as a harsh bark. The barista winced, as if he was expecting Derrick to lean over the counter and grab a handful of his shirt. A riled-up part of him was tempted to do just that, and when the barista was steadying himself for a blow, he’d take the chance to kiss him.
Naturally, Derrick was too chicken shit to do anything so audacious. Awkward silence passed.
“Don’t forget this.” The guy finally muttered and shoved a paper bag at his arm. There was an expression on his face Derrick couldn’t read.
Frowning, Derrick peered into the paper bag, surprised to see the cupcake. “I didn’t order this. You must’ve been mistaken.”
Suspicion was quickly replaced by sheer irritation. Even the wolf inside him raised its curious head. What was this man playing at? He shoved the bag back, but the other man pushed it back to him. The guy furtively glanced at his busy manager by the counter who was busy tinkering with the espresso machine.
Derrick saw that his eyes were a startling shade of blue. The kind humans normally didn’t have. Was Derrick wrong about him being a normal human? He couldn’t detect the usual smell of musk that most wolves carried though, or the familiar smells he’d associate with other Were-animals.
“Look, take it. You look like you really wanted it,” the guy said in a low voice, his ears growing pink.
His own ruddy cheeks felt warm. Did the guy think he couldn’t pay for a damn cupcake? But looking at the barista’s face and the reddening tips of his ears told Derrick that the other man’s expression was genuine. The shaggy haired man uneasily shifted nervously from one foot to the next. He looked nervous, not meeting Derrick’s gaze.
Derrick’s eyes moved down his face to his rather nice and lean chest. The Beta decided that he had a rather nice body under all those scruffy clothes. One that had seen just enough exercise to keep fit, but wasn’t overtly buffed. Focus, Derrick, he chided himself. It wasn’t the barista’s body he should be looking at. Taking a breath, he tried again to pick out the details that seemed out of place.
No nametag. Strange. I haven’t seen him around town either. Was he a new employee? Why did he look so shifty?
Finally, Derrick caved. He was standing there far too long, and the businessman behind him had begun to complain. Maybe the guy was just nervous on his first day. Maybe he was simply just being nice, or pitied Derrick. The latter seemed the most likely option, but it was better to be noticed than not be noticed at all in Derrick’s opinion.
The words that he was a diabetic were on the tip of his tongue, but he curbed it. He didn’t want to further discomfort or embarrass the guy any longer.
“Great. Thanks.” Derrick took the bag and was about to give the barista a reassuring smile, but he was already serving an
other customer. Wasn’t he overly eager to get away from me?
On his way out the door of the coffee shop, Derrick spared the man one last look. He couldn’t shake off the feeling in his gut. He found it all too suspicious that the man became all-too flustered around him like a schoolboy. Derrick doubted it was because of his good looks or smooth charm.
Was he a human liaison working for an old enemy of his family? Maybe even a spy sent by his family?
But who would bother with him? He usually kept his head down and minded his own business. Even the local pack of New Haven left him relatively alone. Derrick was essentially a small and insignificant fish in a tank full of sharks.
“Maybe he was just being nice. Just another random act of kindness,” he murmured to himself.
Once out the door, he parked himself at the sidewalk and peered into the brown paper bag again. The cupcake looked no less appealing than it had a few minutes ago. Derrick still wanted it badly and still wanted to eat it off someone. Instead of Jared’s face though, he pictured the barista’s delightfully embarrassed expression. It would’ve been nice to see him squirm and hear him moan when Derrick sucked and tongued at the caramel frosting on his nipples.
The reckless thought of running back in and asking the guy for his number suddenly overcame Derrick.
You’re just going to freak him out if it turns out he’s straight. It really was a bad idea, and besides, Derrick doubted he was capable of stringing a simple sentence. Nothing was ever simple to him when it came to relationships.
“Don’t spoil a good thing,” Derrick admonished himself. He hastily folded the paper bag, cursing when he nearly crushed the bag and its contents with his large paw of a hand.
Across the glass of the coffee shop, he caught the dark and curious eyes of the barista. The dark-haired guy lifted his hand in an uncertain wave. Flushed, Derrick ambled away from the coffee shop as fast as he could.
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