McQuade: The Lone Wolf Takes a Mate

by Lynn Richards

  She’d moved in with her sister thinking it would be the ideal solution. Two incomes, one set of bills. Hence, why the phone was in her name. She couldn’t have been more wrong. Alice not only resented the intrusion on her privacy, but expected Rose to pay all the bills–rent, water, utilities. Unable to make her sister see reason, Rose had moved out as soon as possible. She loved her sister, but they were very different individuals.

  Even though Alice was older by two years, Rose had always been the responsible one. Her sister had taken advantage of the fact time and time again. Even so, Rose couldn’t stop helping her. Alice’s call this afternoon had sounded more than a little desperate when she’d asked Rose to meet her in the bar. Being at a bar was bad enough, but one that catered to both humans and shifters…What had she been thinking? That was the problem. Alice never thought anything through, never worried about the consequences of her actions.

  She left that to Rose.

  When McQuade stopped the bike, Rose still felt the sensation of moving. It was almost more than she could manage to undo the icy grip she had around his waist as he put down the kickstand and got off.

  Her tiny apartment sat above a garage that provided twenty-four-hour towing and was often noisy, waking her at all hours. But it was all Rose could afford on her nurse’s salary just yet. Even though she had worked while attending school, she had major student loans and wanted to make a dent in them before committing to higher rent on a larger apartment or even financing a mortgage for a small house. She had no one to depend on but herself. Alice had made that perfectly clear on more than one occasion.

  “You need to get warm.”

  As the other man had at the bar, McQuade lifted her from the seat. He half dragged, half carried her up the stairs. She wanted to lean in, to let the heat radiating from his big body warm her, to close her eyes and breathe deeply of the purely male scent. Her keys were in her sweater pocket, which was beneath the oversized plastic raincoat. It took her several attempts to dig them out. He stood behind her, blocking out the night breeze. Amazingly, he didn’t growl or grow impatient at her clumsiness.

  “I know you’re tired. And hungry.” His voice held a note of concern. It had been so long since anyone thought about her wellbeing, tears threatened. Maybe thinking about her parents had made her sad and weepy. Or maybe it had been the whole damn night.

  “I’m fine.” She was indebted enough to the man. Her statement would have been more believable if her stomach hadn’t chosen that moment to growl.

  She finally managed to get the key in the lock. The door squeaked as she pushed it open—it always had. Rose had never complained to her landlord. She figured it was a cheap burglar alarm. Flipping on the light, she braced herself for the sarcastic comments that would no doubt be forthcoming. Every time Alice came by, she spent the first twenty minutes telling Rose how horrible her apartment looked. She tried to see it through this stranger’s eyes. The open area held a beat up leather sofa, a scratched and scarred coffee table, an upholstered chair, and a lamp some previous owner had covered in seashells to hide the peeling paint. Every piece in this room and her small bedroom had been purchased for next to nothing at the thrift shop down the street. Everything but the queen-sized mattress and boxed springs on her bed. She’d refused to sleep on a used mattress. That had been another month of eating almost nothing but noodles

  Thankfully, one of the nurse’s brothers had offered to move the whole lot in his pickup truck. All it had cost her was one of the chocolate cakes she was fond of making for the other nurses during the holidays—a whole lot cheaper than renting a truck herself. Besides, there’d been no way she could have gotten the couch up those stairs on her own. She’d paid the store extra to have the mattress set delivered.

  When he didn’t say anything, she looked over at him, her eyes tracing the muscles in his arms as he removed his jacket and slung it carelessly across her chair.

  Maybe she should thank McQuade by offering to bake a cake for him.

  Or you could offer something else. Like a few more kisses or even a night in her queen-sized bed. Doing whatever he wanted.

  He picked up one of the framed photographs from the fake mantel above the small electric heater that was her only heat source during the winter while she took off the plastic poncho and hung it by the door. Somehow she didn’t think the man who gave it to her would ever want it back. The picture was one Alice had posted on the internet while on vacation in Mexico. Her sister would never have thought to send it to Rose, so she’d downloaded it and made a copy for herself. Her sister would never have thought to invite her on vacation either. She frowned, worry for her sister settling in once again. No matter what Alice had done or hadn’t done in the past, she was still Rose’s sister.

  “She’s very beautiful.”

  And she was. Straight blonde hair, killer bod, and a smile that made most men open up their wallets and say how much do you need? Rose was shocked at the wave of jealousy and anger sweeping over her. She wanted him to say those words about her, Rose Spencer. Not her sister.

  “Yes, she is. She looks just like our mother. Too bad those genes didn’t come together for me.”

  His forehead creased. “Who told you that?”

  “Oh, no one in particular.” Her hands fluttered over her body as if say look at me. “Why should anyone have to state the obvious?”

  Darn it, why did she want to cry again?

  McQuade’s frown deepened into a full-fledged scowl.

  “I’m going to take a bath.” Rose hastened from the room, shutting the bathroom door with a bang, glad she didn’t have to hear the next compliment he was sure to pay her sister. Leaning against the closed door, she took several deep, steadying breaths. Could the night have gotten any crazier? Her twelve hour shift had ended with a frantic call from her sister followed by a flat tire, a dead cell phone, and a motorcycle ride on rain soaked roads.

  And she couldn’t forget the narrow escape from a bunch of lion shifters and her rescue by one red hot wolf. He hadn’t told her he was a wolf shifter, but when his teeth had elongated in preparation to bite her, she’d had a sudden vision of a dark wolf running through the forest. She turned on the faucet and let the hot water fill the tub. A shower would be quicker, but she didn’t think the brush of hot water against her skin would actually warm her. She needed the heat around her. Sprinkling a handful of bath salts onto the surface of the steaming water, she quickly stripped, tugging the rubber band from her hair, and stepped into the tub. Sinking into the wonderful heat she closed her eyes, letting the steam seep into her pores.

  Bliss. Absolute, heavenly bliss.

  Almost as good as being held by McQuade.

  Rose wasn’t normally a woman who fantasized about sex—she was too grounded in reality to believe in white knights and heroes. But thinking about the handsome shifter and all the things she’d like to do to him—with him—had her hand heading south.

  Stop it, Rose, she scolded herself, gripping the edges of the tub. She was not the type of girl who got herself off with a strange man right outside her bathroom door. Nor was she the type of girl to invite said stranger inside the bathroom to help take care of her needs.

  Why, oh, why couldn’t she let herself be that type of girl?

  She wanted McQuade to look at her and see a woman. A flesh and blood, passionate–hot–desirable woman. And she was probably a little crazy to want such a thing from a man like him. She was Rose, the plain, fat girl no one ever looked at as a sexual conquest. He was a shifter. She knew every touch or look they had exchanged tonight was a calculated maneuver on his part. The bite, the kisses. All contrived to ensure they both walked out of the bar unharmed. Not because he wanted or desired her. She couldn’t fault the man for being kind, but dang it, she wanted to inspire the lust that would have him claim her for real.

  Sinking into the warm water until it closed over her face, she got her hair completely wet. Ten minutes later she was clean from head to toe. Even though
she wanted to stay in the bath soaking up the heat, she couldn’t forget the man right outside the door. The wolf. The hot man wolf.

  Reluctantly she drained the water from the tub and grabbed a large, fluffy towel to dry off. Luckily she’d left her pajamas in the bathroom this morning when she’d gotten ready for work. She pulled on the soft knit pants and long-sleeved shirt. They were green and blue plaid and almost new. At least she wouldn’t embarrass herself with holes in the sleeves—or worse—in the crotch. Another ten minutes and her hair was almost dry. As she put away the dryer, she heard the squeak of the front door as it closed. No doubt, he was leaving. He’d seen her safely home and that’s all she could hope for, a one-time favor from a good-looking man. Never anything more.

  “Rose?”

  She jumped as McQuade’s voice sounded from the other side of the bathroom door.

  “The food’s here. You might want to hurry up.”

  He was staying? And had ordered food?

  She came out of the bathroom, twisting her hands in front of her. Having someone else do something for her was a new experience. Lord only knew, Alice had never had a kind thought toward Rose unless it benefited her. And the few men she’d dated in the past had expected to be waited on hand and foot. Most of them hadn’t made it past the third date. The dreaded third date where she was expected to put out, or get out.

  CHAPTER THREE

  What deity had he pissed off to put him in such torture? He’d had a hell of a time stopping himself from joining Rose in the tub, especially when he’d heard her soft moans as she’d sank into a tubful of hot water. Who the hell took baths nowadays? Now, the sight of her bare feet and rosy cheeks had his swelling cock hardening even more, filling what little room he had in the front of his jeans. Her brown hair hung straight and flat down her back, tucked behind her ears. She’d put on a pair of pajamas that covered her from top to bottom. She looked about sixteen. A ripe, delectable sixteen.

  “Still cold?” She’d either forgotten or deliberately decided not to wear a bra. Her nipples pushed against the knit fabric of her top and he wondered again how she would taste.

  “No, um, the…the um…do you want to take a shower and warm up? Your clothes are still wet.”

  He definitely wasn’t cold. “Shifters give off their own body heat, sweetheart. I’m fine.” Hell, he wasn’t fine, he was about to explode inside his jeans. No siree. He didn’t think he’d ever be cold again. It was all he could do to drag his gaze away from the full, lush mounds of her breasts. But he did. He was going to feed her, then leave. A shifter knew the value of a woman, every woman, not just a mate. Females were to be protected and cared for. They were the nurturers, the caregivers—the continuation of their race.

  That was why he was acting this way. The only reason why.

  “I ordered pizza.” He’d had no idea what she liked or disliked so he’d simply ordered what he liked. He didn’t bother with plates wanting this over and done with as quickly as possible. Taking a piece of the pizza from the box he put it on a napkin and handed it to her before taking one for himself. He’d ordered two cans of soda, hoping the caffeine would counteract the liquor in her system. Even without his heightened senses, he’d smelled the large amount of whiskey in her drink. Or drinks. He was still angry with himself for missing the bartender giving her a second coffee but he’d liked the effect they’d had on her. After she’d downed the two coffees she’d lost some of her reserve, becoming smart and sassy.

  “Here.” He edged a can of the sofa closer to her side. Maybe if he occupied himself with food he wouldn’t think about how good she smelled or how she might taste. One slice of a claw and those pajamas would be history. Back away, he warned himself. This was not a woman you took to your bed then walked away from in the morning.

  She took a bite and McQuade had to quit eating himself or risk getting choked as he watched her swallow.

  “Mmm,” she moaned around a mouthful of pizza. “Pepperoni, my favorite.”

  Her eyes closed and he was free to watch her as closely as he liked. Would her face hold such an expression when she came around his cock? One of orgasmic bliss?

  The animal was whining, wanting to be closer to her. He frowned. What the fuck was going on? Yeah, the woman was attractive—alright, more than attractive, and he was horny as hell—but his wolf had never fought against the human restraint. Now it was. Pushing the boundaries of McQuade’s waning self-control, trying to break free as though he’d scented his mate.

  No. Fucking. Way.

  He put down the pizza. There was only one thing he wanted at this moment and pizza wasn’t it.

  “I need to be going.” He reached for the black leather jacket he’d draped across the back of the chair. “Everything should be back to normal in a day or two.”

  She frowned at him over her second piece of pizza. The women he usually went out with wouldn’t have been caught dead eating a slice of pizza—much less two—and they definitely wouldn’t have a smear of tomato sauce across their perfectly glossed lips. If they had, he didn’t think he’d have the uncontrollable urge to lick it away as he did now. To lick Rose’s lips. Lick away the tangy sauce, then work his way down her body, stopping at all the enticing curves along the way until he got to her second set of lips. Pink and glistening from her desire.

  The air in front of him grew hazy, a smoky red color, indicating the wolf was very close to the surface.

  “What do you mean?”

  “What?” He shook his head. Out, out, the man ordered. Get away. He had to leave before he did something stupid. Like spread her legs and see just how wet she was.

  “You said everything should be back to normal?”

  “Uh, yeah.” Shit, he couldn’t think straight. “My scent should be gone by then.” His wolf growled, the animal not happy with the thought of this woman walking around without his scent to protect her. Mark her, it urged.

  “Oh.” Her eyes widened as if just now realizing the importance of what had taken place between them. The bite he’d given her would mean nothing more to humans than a mark made by an overzealous lover. But to another shifter it screamed mine, leave this woman the fuck alone.

  Thankfully, she didn’t seem repulsed by the idea his scent would linger for a few more days. If anything, it heightened her awareness. And arousal.

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  He could smell her—creaming for him. His wolf surged forward and he held him back with effort.

  He’d never bitten a woman before, much less marked one while fucking. Would the sensations be the same? Mated couples always bragged how sex was better after the claiming, but could it really compare to the unadulterated lust he’d enjoyed over the years? He didn’t think so and had no real desire to find out.

  And certainly not with Rose.

  Or so he kept telling himself.

  While most human males would assuredly find her features plain, he saw the beauty in her they could not see. Her pale skin was soft and as smooth as silk and her eyes—a beautiful shade of green with a unique mixture of colors—reminded him of the dark soil of the forest floor. She was shorter than the women he usually brought to his bed but a hell of a lot curvier. Maybe he’d avoided women like her in the past, a full-figured woman who called to his wolf. She represented what he’d long sought to avoid—the embodiment of home and children. A woman strong enough to hold a family together in even the toughest of times. A woman willing to sacrifice for both her children and her mate. It didn’t matter what the hell she looked like if she really was his mate. The wolf wanted what the wolf wanted.

  “Should I take another bath tonight?” She looked worried she might do something wrong and it pricked at his conscience. Marking her had been the easiest way out of the situation at the bar, but not the only way. One phone call would have brought Briggs and other pack members to his assistance.

  “No. The scent will simply fade.” Unless you did something about it, his wolf taunted.

  Her heartfelt
sigh sounded to him as if she felt she would be giving up something precious. His heart twisted.

  He ignored it. And the feelings she aroused in him.

  “Go to bed, Rose. You’ve had enough excitement for the night.”

  Seeing the hard set of his jaw, she didn’t argue. She picked up the pizza box and handed it to him. “I appreciate the food, but you’ll be hungry later. You didn’t even finish one slice.”

  He frowned, pushing the box back to her. “The food is for you, Rose. Not me.”

  She put the box back down and stood there, twisting her hands in front of her in her.

  He recognized the familiar nervous habit. Her hair had completely dried and small tendrils curled around her face. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and brush them away. Instead he shrugged into his jacket, the leather cool against his hot skin. He felt flushed and his heart raced as if he’d run for miles and miles and miles. What the hell was this woman doing to him?

  Knowing it was a mistake, but unable to stop himself, he lowered his mouth to hers. His tongue conquered hers, taking control. This would be the last time he’d see this woman. The last time he would taste her sweetness.

  It had to be. He liked his life just the way it was.

  “Don’t go into any more shifter bars,” he ordered huskily, breaking off the kiss. “Don’t go into any bars, period.”

  *****

  An hour later he pulled into his driveway just as a large brown wolf loped into his front yard. Briggs back from a run. McQuade parked his bike and headed inside his cabin, leaving the front door standing open. He knew if he didn’t, the other wolf would stomp in anyway. Briggs had no concept of privacy—or propriety. McQuade pulled an extra pair of jeans from the front coat closet and tossed them through the open door. He wasn’t in the mood to see a naked Briggs.