McQuade: The Lone Wolf Takes a Mate

by Lynn Richards

  What a charmer Rose thought.

  “Mmm, can I order after I use the bathroom?” She raised her hand to wipe the water from her cheek, wincing as the movement caused her dripping hair to splatter drops onto the dusty floor. Hopefully there was a hand dryer in the bathroom and she could at least dry her hair a little. While she was in there maybe another customer would come in and by the time she exited the restroom, he would have forgotten she hadn’t purchased anything.

  The way he looked at her—as though he knew exactly what she was contemplating—made Rose shiver in a very different way from sensation caused by the clinging wetness of her clothing.

  Or the man in the back of the room.

  “In the back.” Another nod of his greasy head pointed her in the right direction before he picked up the dirty rag and returned to wiping the stack of glasses in front of him.

  The restrooms were in the rear of the building, a half-lit neon sign indicating their location. The path she needed to take would lead her past a group of men who, she noticed suddenly, were giving her way too much attention. She pulled her sweater tightly around her body and walked onward, holding her eyes downcast. Just as she thought she was in the clear, the man closest to the aisle extended his leg, blocking her way.

  “What’s your rush, honey?”

  Rose didn’t know the best way to handle the situation. There were other women in the place who appeared unattached, and she was certainly nothing to turn any man’s head so she didn’t know why this was happening. But she’d experienced situations like this in the hospital where a man felt the need to impress his buddies by trying to prove his manhood. Of course, that’s why most of them wound up in the emergency room.

  “I’d like to pass, please.”

  “Oh, boys,” the big man puffed out his chest as he glanced around the table at his friends, “such a polite little thing.” His gaze held hers and she could see the warning in his eyes. “Boys, do you think she’ll be so polite when I have my cock jammed up her tight little pussy?” The men laughed and suddenly she knew she wasn’t dealing with just a posturing, intoxicated man. These men were shifters and shifters didn’t normally get drunk. By the dark blonde color of their hair, she figured they were some kind of cat shifter. Probably lion.

  She tried to sidestep as the man moved his leg, no doubt intending to hook it around hers and topple her into his lap. Before he could complete the action, the man who had captured Rose’s attention earlier was by her side, gripping her elbow and pulling her away.

  “Go,” he ordered, pushing her toward the back.

  She didn’t even look at him as she stepped across the other man’s leg, walking as fast as she could to the restroom. She should have run straight out the front door, but she didn’t think she’d be any safer in the cold, wet night. She was trembling by the time she got to the bathroom and locked herself inside. She almost leaned against the door but thought better of it. She wasn’t sure there was any surface in the decrepit building that was safe to touch.

  Walking to the sink, she grimaced at her reflection. Calling herself a drowned rat would be insulting to the rat. Her hair was plastered to her head and her ears were sticking through the matted strands, resembling an overgrown pixie’s. The room didn’t have a towel dispenser so she had to wipe away the moisture from her face with the sleeve of her sweater. Any makeup she’d worn this morning had completely disappeared. After work she’d changed into a navy skirt, white blouse, and heavy navy sweater. Her legs were encased in dark hose and she’d topped off the outfit with her old maid shoes.

  Taking off her sweater she groaned as she realized why she’d suddenly garnered the attention of the men at the table. The rain soaked blouse and her lacy bra were completely transparent, sticking to her like a second skin and revealing the size and shape of her breasts. Her nipples were rigid from the cool temperature. For all the coverage the blouse provided, she might as well have walked in front of them naked.

  Something she wouldn’t have minded doing for the dark haired man who had rescued her.

  Wringing as much moisture as she could from her dripping hair, she combed her fingers through the matted strands and nixed the idea of trying to dry it. She searched in her pocket for something to tie it back. Luckily, she found a rubber band. After securing the heavy swath of hair, she repeated the wringing out process on her sweater, squeezing out as much moisture as she could without stretching the material completely out of shape. She held the sweater under the electric hand dryer and tried not to look at her ghastly image in the stained and cracked mirror. After about ten minutes she realized the dryer wasn’t having much effect and the garment was as dry as she was going to get it.

  Pulling it back on, she checked her cell phone again. Still no signal or indication of a missed call from Alice. Now the low battery warning was beeping. She turned it completely off and stuffed it in her pocket. Would the bartender throw her out when he realized she didn’t have any money to pay for the two-drink minimum? Maybe he’d take the two dollars she had in her wallet and let her use his phone to call a cab. She had no means to pay the fare but she’d worry about that later. The most important thing was to leave the bar as quickly as possible.

  *****

  McQuade wasn’t sure what had driven him to his feet except the instinctive need to protect the woman. Granted, his position in the pack was one of protection and enforcement, but coming to the aid of those outside the pack–especially against other shifters–was not something he did lightly. Interference in another pack’s business could have serious repercussions.

  The largest of the lions rose to his feet to confront him. He was bigger around the middle and wider through his chest, but McQuade had at least two inches on him plus more muscle and a whole lot more experience. The lion looked as if his version of fighting was to pick up his opponent and slam him against the nearest wall.

  “This doesn’t concern you, wolf.”

  “She’s mine.”

  That did not just come out of his mouth.

  “Says who? She doesn’t carry your scent. She’s fair game.”

  As an enforcer, he dealt with this type of animal, man or shifter, on a daily basis. Complete assholes. Sheesh. Sometimes he was ashamed to be a shifter. Some, like this moron, thought anything was theirs for the taking simply because they could. He’d like nothing better than to extend his claw and slice through the bigger man’s belly. “You couldn’t smell your way out of a paper bag.”

  That got laughs from the group of lions and snickers from the hyenas across the room.

  “Mine.” He said the word one last time, turning his back on the lion, an insult of the highest degree. He braced himself for an attack, but it never came. Two more steps and he was in the shadows of the hallway.

  *****

  Rose opened the bathroom door slowly. She was not a stupid woman. Well, normally she wasn’t. She realized any of the men from the lion shifter’s table—or any other—could have followed her. The man, who had interfered, for whatever reason, had no duty to continue to come to her rescue. Rose had been on her own far too long to expect help from others.

  The hallway outside the bathroom was dark, the only illumination a half burned out fire exit sign at the very end above another steel door. Her hope of opening it and making a run for it died quickly when she saw the chain holding it shut.

  She listened for any sounds that would indicate she was not alone. When she heard nothing, she stepped outside and breathed a sigh of relief. What had the man done after she’d left? For some reason she didn’t think the other men had given him any trouble. He was much bigger and looked a hell of a lot scarier.

  But you could never tell with the male species—especially a shifter male.

  Hopefully they had all left.

  “Why are you here, little girl?”

  The words came out of the darkness, scaring the crap out of her. She knew instantly who was there. Her reluctant rescuer. He appeared next to her so fast, forcin
g her against the wall and holding her there with his big body she didn’t have time to think, much less voice any type of protest. She knew she should try and get away. She was pressed against a wall in a biker bar by a man who dwarfed even her large frame. A very scary man she didn’t know. For some reason, she wasn’t afraid of him. Not like she’d been of the lion shifter. She shuddered as she thought about what would have happened if this man hadn’t intervened.

  Her breath hitched as he leaned closer, putting his lips near the corner of her mouth, the way a lover might. Rose’s whole body went rigid as his soft breath caressed her cheek. She stopped breathing as the layers of masculine scent washed over her. He reminded her of the forest after a rain, earthy and alive. His biceps, sculpted as if from an artist’s hand, caged her in. Did a man’s eyes have the right to be so dark, so brooding? Excitement mingled with fear thundered through her blood and it took her a moment to realize he was talking.

  “Well, little girl, why are you here?” Each syllable brushed his lips over hers, invading her intimate space. She could feel the frustration and rage crackling around him. So much power held tautly in place with the clench of a jaw. The most dangerous predator in the bar, he could hurt her in a hundred different ways. He stood there, hard, and powerful and unrelenting, demanding an answer.

  The woman licked her lips and McQuade thought he might have to take her in the dark hallway, up against the wall. He felt the strong pull of lust deep in his belly and his cock filled with blood. He didn’t know why his wolf was suddenly sitting up and howling. Over the last year the animal had been so quiet with regards to sex, the man had almost forgotten him. Now he felt the animal prowling, wanting to be unleashed so he come out and play.

  He wanted to come out and play with the cute little piece of trouble that had her hair combed straight back from her face and secured in a ponytail. Even though he knew the style was in deference to the soaking she’d received, he had a feeling this was how she usually wore her hair. Most women wanted large puffy hair filled with all sorts of smelly sprays and gels. Something McQuade really disliked. Instead of looking severe on her though, the style emphasized the delicate, elegant lines of her soft face. She wasn’t pretty, but she had smooth satin skin and wide brown eyes that seemed to see straight into him.

  Her pretty red mouth parted on a soft breath and he was ready to come in his jeans. He had to get her out of the bar, and away from him. Far, far away. The attraction, the wanting—it was all happening too fast.

  “Do you know anything about shifters?”

  His deep voice, soft in the dim hallway, made her shiver. “Some.”

  “Do you know about scenting?”

  “No.”

  “Shifters use it to claim their partners.” He didn’t tell her scenting usually only involved a shifter rubbing against someone. Other forms were sharing of blood and biting. Biting for a wolf shifter wasn’t something saved exclusively for mating. Sometimes it was just about sex.

  “Forever?”

  Her high-pitched tone almost made him smile. “No.”

  Not unless the shifter kept biting the woman. And fucking her. And biting and fucking her at the same time.

  “Here’s what we’re going to do.” He bent closer filling his nostrils with her scent. Rain, woman, and desire. He allowed himself a tight grin. She wanted him. “I’m going to bite that pretty little neck of yours, and then we’re going to walk back to the bar, sit down, and have a drink.”

  “But I don’t–”

  “Shut up.” His animal snarled at the harsh tone. He wanted to mark this woman. The man, however, was having a panic attack at what he was about to do. Something totally unnecessary. She carried his scent already just from the proximity of their bodies. But his wolf demanded and for once, his animal was in control. “Have you ever seen what a pride of lions can do to a woman? Or a pack of hyenas? Don’t think once those lions fuck you they’ll let you go.” His animal snarled at the thought of any man’s cock inside her but his own. “They won’t mind handing you over once they’re done with you. That is, if there’s anything left.” Was he trying to justify what he was about to do? His animal paced relentlessly, wanting him to get on with it. Needing the woman marked with his scent. “I’m good, baby, but I’m not good enough to out-fight two packs of horny shifters.”

  McQuade wasn’t really worried about the woman’s virtue or her safety. If need be he could out fight the horny shifters but he needed to scare the shit out of her so she’d never find herself in this situation again. The next time he might not be there to save her. His wolf growled, almost maniacal at the thought of her alone and unprotected.

  Once they stepped back through the door, no one would doubt she belonged to him. Unless a shifter wanted to start a war, they didn’t mess with another shifter’s claim.

  He assured himself what he was about to do was for her own safety. Not some overwhelming, fucking instinct he couldn’t control. He kept his arms up and moved his hips away. If he touched her during the bite, he wasn’t sure what would happen. He knew some shifters bit women with no intention of ever mating. He’d never bitten a woman—not even in the throes of passion—and never with the intention of leaving his scent behind. It took more than one bite to complete the bonding, but if he bit her now, partially marked her, it would warn every shifter in the bar she was the property of a mean son-of-a-bitch. Him.

  This was the best way. The only way.

  The animal now had full control.

  “Tilt your head back.”

  Her eyes searched his as if seeking the truth to his words about the need for his actions. Without saying a word, she leaned her head back until it rested against the unpainted cement block wall of the hallway.

  With her hair up and out of the way all she had to do was move aside her sweater and that damn see-through blouse. His gaze drifted down. Had it dried any? Were her nipples still pushing against it? “Move your sweater. And your shirt collar.”

  She held her gaze steady, holding him with her stare. Her fingers pulled back the clothing revealing the curve of her neck. He could have bitten her anywhere and left his scent, but most shifters marked their mates where the neck meets the shoulder. Where the heavenly scent of a woman was the most potent.

  McQuade’s canines extended and he heard her sharp intake of breath. He couldn’t reassure her it wouldn’t hurt because he didn’t know. This would be his first bite. Bending his head, he lapped along the line of her neck, tasting the salt of her skin and the fresh taste of rain. When she moaned, he fisted his hands to keep from dragging her to him and grinding his cock against her soft belly.

  He had to get control of his wolf.

  His mouth closed over her soft skin as her scent flooded his senses, sending his wolf into a renewed frenzy. The sharpness of her blood flooded his mouth and he couldn’t control himself or his wolf. His arm closed around her waist, pulling her hard against his raging erection. Her hands clenched the cotton fabric of his shirt and he humped against her as the exchange took place. Her blood, his scent. He wanted to turn her around and tear that sedate skirt from her body and fuck her until she screamed.

  His wolf howled.

  Shaking away the sexual fog, he eased his teeth from her flesh and licked the wound closed. He didn’t care if he’d bitten too deeply or too long and left a scar. She’d walked into this bar alone and she was damn lucky that was the only scar she’d leave with.

  When he pulled back, her hands didn’t release him. Her head fell forward, her forehead resting against his chest. He cupped her neck, the palm of his hand over the bite. It radiated heat. He titled her head backwards. Her eyes were closed and her breathing shallow. Hell. Was she going to pass out on him?

  “Open your eyes, beautiful. Tell me your name.”

  Her eyes slowly opened and for the briefest of seconds he could have sworn he saw a glint of gold in the dark depths. He blinked and it was gone—or had never been.

  McQuade closed his eyes, biting do
wn his panic. He had not triggered the bonding. There was no way. She had to bite him while he was buried balls deep inside her. And he was pretty sure he would have remembered that happening during the last few minutes.

  “Your name.” His voice held a strong tone of command.

  “Mmm, Rose.”

  “I’m McQuade.” His hand pressed against the small of her back. “Let’s go, Rose.”

  Before I do something else incredibly stupid.

  CHAPTER TWO

  When they left the security of the hallway, Rose blinked, feeling as if she was waking from a dream. What the heck had just happened? Her hand rose to her neck and the place where his teeth had sunk into her. There was no blood, only some residual tenderness and heat. She snorted to herself. The freaking bite felt like it was on fire.

  When he mentioned scenting and marking, she’d been all on board if it meant he had to rub himself all over her and she could walk out of here without being raped. Even when he said he’d have to mark her, she hadn’t seen a problem. A wild shifter telling the world she was his?

  If that’s what it took to get her out of this predicament, well, that’s what had to happen.

  She knew a little about shifter mating. The biting had to continue, usually during the throes of passion. It wasn’t as if he would continue to bite her, or take her, marking her as his forever. She sighed, a girl could dream couldn’t she?

  “Ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be.” She wasn’t really afraid anymore. She knew the man by her side would keep her safe. Hopefully, the scenting thing would make up for any lack of acting ability. She didn’t think he could fool anyone into believing he’d fallen into instant lust. Not the way she looked tonight—or any other night for that matter. Her extra pounds and average face had never enticed a man into her bed. The gorgeous specimen by her side wasn’t about to be an exception no matter how much she may wish it.

  As they walked past the lions, the shifters snarled but no one tried to stop them. Her step hesitated and McQuade’s hand rubbed the small of her back as if to reassure her.