Bennett scowled at his partner. “Fuck off. It’s a good plan.”
Mercury gave him a sure it is glance and strolled out of the kitchen looking like any adult woman with a ticking biological clock’s wet dream, at least according to Dani. His broad muscular shoulders encased in a tight black t-shirt were easily viewed under the blue paisley fabric of the sling. Mercury’s arm rested lightly under the teardrop-shaped bundle that was fast asleep.
Bennett shook his head. He’d been doing a lot of that lately, with all of the changes going on with this pack. In the last year, they gained two additional Guardians, protectors of the shifter species, with Jace Stockwell and Kaitlyn Savoy. Three if they counted the young male shifter Mercury rescued last summer. But Parrish was still young, not just young for a shifter, a literal teenager, and he still didn’t talk. They all learned sign language to communicate with him, but the youngster preferred his Xbox over anything else.
Jace’s mate, Cassie, had become a solid part of their pack and the psychologist was crucial to Bennett’s sanity…or at least had been for a while. He got tired of talking, preferring action instead, and even that was getting old. With the twin Guardians, Malcolm and Harrison Wallace, out of the territory on official duty, he’d been loath to troll for women on his own. It had been so much easier to stroll into the backrooms at the shifter club, Pale Moonlight, where the twins were working their magic on random women, and join in.
For years, he’d been the recruiter, leading nubile sex partners to the notorious rooms dubbed The Den, where he and other shifters exorcised their demons through extreme physical exertion. It got old. It really did. Unmated shifters, especially Guardians, needed an outlet for their increased levels of aggression. Fighting only went so far, maybe a little therapy helped, and then there was sex. And that wasn’t helping like it used to. Not the random, nameless hookups he’d been having, and with the twins gone, it left…expectations…when it was just him. The girls would want to kiss, touch, and, ugh, talk.
He used to go to The Den with Mason and Mercury. But Mason’s downward spiral beyond major asshole was halted when his heart got blown out of him, and Mercury was solidly mated to the human, Dani. And didn’t that just stick in Bennett’s craw.
Of course he was happy for his partner and best friend. Maybe he couldn’t find a human woman who accepted him for what he was, willing to turn her back on everything she knew for life with the Guardians, but he was happy Mercury found one. After the suggestion by their nemesis, Madame G, that Mercury could choose his own mate, she wasn’t predetermined, well…it just rankled a little more.
Seeing Jace and Mercury each in their respective forms of mated bliss left Bennett feeling…conflicted. They both found human mates who not only left their lives as they knew it, but dedicated their themselves to defending the shifter species. Over a century ago, Bennett had been happily married. Or so he thought until his human mate was brainwashed, told that someone like him was an evil abomination and needed to be destroyed, with her help.
Abigail was weak, mentally and physically, and her humanness was the only comparison that could be made to Mercury’s and Jace’s mates.
But why wasn’t Bennett worthy of a solid, quality mate? And wasn’t that the number one question that had been riding him hard for the last one hundred and twenty-five or so years?
The other question was: what the hell was he going to do? He’d taken on increased responsibility and was now second in command to their pack leader, Commander Rhys Fitzsimmons. Their pack was facing off with the local Sigma chapter under the rule of the demented, evil Madame G. Suspicions of corruption in their own ruling body, the Lycan Council, left their pack short-staffed while the twins were sent off to investigate.
Finding a mate was a once in a lifetime event. Urban legend suggested that shifters who didn’t go off the deep end when a mate was lost to them, could find another destined to bond with, if they lived long enough. But finding substance to the myths never went beyond “my cousin’s best friend’s dad’s old roommate heard of a guy who…”
So here he was. He’d survived the devastation of his mate’s betrayal and her subsequent death, or execution, as it were, thanks to his duty and Guardian brothers. However, he was finding it increasingly difficult to control the raging emotions roiling in his chest and old memories banging around his head. He was so. Damn. Angry.
Giving his head a brief shake, he ran a hand through his short blond hair, making sure it was tousled just right. One secret to his survival had been to alter his name and looks, distancing himself from that guy. That guy who was stupid enough to believe a timid, human woman would remain by his side, endure his duty, and welcome him home into their bed after a suckass day. The aww-shucks Benjamin Young with the scruffy good looks and dusty cowboy hat became the immaculate Bennett Young, who wore expensive shit and never had a hair out of place. Benji—fucking loser. Bennett—winning.
Time to go see an old crusty bastard about some traps.
What a nice spread.
A good three hundred and twenty acres sat next to the Guardian’s land. Both chunks of land were far enough away from city limits to be considered extremely rural and isolated. The Guardians kept tabs on all the land owners around their acreage. There were just a few owners really, and only one wasn’t a shifter. The previous non-shifter owner was okay letting the land grow wild, snoring loudly all night while shifters freely ran his property, and heading into town to hit on the silver-haired ladies at the senior center all day. It was an ideal situation until the guy hadn’t shown up in town one day and the senior center ladies called the local police, concerned about him, and found he’d passed away quietly one night.
The new owner might be an issue. Recently, shifters exercising their wolves in the woods had some near misses with steel traps. Concerning enough, until Kaitlyn came back from inspecting the traps claiming they were plentiful, covering the entirety of the property like land mines.
Driving down the ambling, dusty road that served as a driveway, Bennett decided at the last minute not to pull too close to the house. If he was in his furry form, the fur would be standing up on the back of his neck. Instead, he parked on the circular drive so he was angled toward the exit and protected by the SUV when he stepped out.
After he climbed out, he let his senses soak in the surroundings. Birds were singing, enjoying the sunny spring weather after a harsh winter. Two cows stood in a pasture, a good hundred yards from the main house. Who the fuck only had two cows?
Bennett spun when he heard a screen door open and resisted the urge to transition when a large German shepherd slammed the door open the rest of the way. Growling and snarling, the beast roared toward him, fangs bared.
Without hesitation, Bennett flung out a mental command. Halt!
The beast stopped abruptly, already midway between the house and Bennett. He swung his furry head toward the house where a figure stood shadowed in the doorway, and then the dog made a lunge back toward Bennett.
Mentally, Bennett held the large dog in place, grateful his erratic ability was steady today. He rarely used his gift. Seriously, who needed to talk to animals? And how long could one guy put up with Snow White references? All of his pack’s gifts had been increasingly unstable for the last century, so much so they’d become less and less dependent on them almost to the point of disuse. That is, until the last year, when some of them started finding mates. It seemed as if their powers became stronger and more grounded with each mating. Bennett thought that meant he was screwed.
The German shepherd whined and sat with a huff on his haunches, then turned his head back to the house.
Keeping his hold on the loyal dog, Bennett took in the figure that walked out.
Shiiiit. His chest grew tight; his breathing became shallower. Not due to the shotgun emerging from the doorway, thankfully pointed downward, but it was the arm attached to it. Bennett ran his eyes up from where the tanned hand confidently gripped the shotgun barrel, up the deli
cately muscled arm encased in a red plaid shirt to where the rolled-up sleeve showed off a slight bulge of bicep. His eyes continued up the sun-kissed skin of a slender neck, bared by a clip holding up the sun-bleached, honey-brown hair, letting it cascade down from the clip like a waterfall of ripened wheat. Bennett took in the lash-lined hazel eyes and full, raspberry-hued lips and felt like he’d been punched in the gut.
Because it wasn’t the stunning beauty, cautiously stepping off the porch, suspicion ripe in her bright, intelligent eyes that made Bennett feel like he was suffocating. It wasn’t the glinting steel weapon in her hand or the dog trained to attack.
No. The bottom dropped out of Bennett’s world as soon as he caught the scent, drifting toward him on the gentle breeze. The scent of lavender and vanilla, the signature smell of this human female. The scent of his mate.
Chapter 2
No. No, no, no, no, no. Son of a dried up, moldy biscuit. This wasn’t good.
Not only was there a towering male standing in her driveway, and her ferocious Cuddles was somehow rendered useless, but this wasn’t just any male. She knew immediately he was a shifter, one used to wielding power and authority, and he was her destined mate.
Fudge.
“Can I help you?” Spencer called, standing at the base of her porch steps. She whistled for Cuddles to come to her side and stared in astonishment as her dog swung his head toward the male, who gave an imperceptible nod of his head, warning in his deep, navy blue eyes. The movement would’ve been undetectable to most people, but she wasn’t most people.
This male didn’t know she wasn’t an ordinary human female, and that’s the way it needed to stay. She stole another moment to size him up while Cuddles trotted to her side and took up a stance in front of her, facing the stranger.
He was tall. Like, really tall. She was five-three and he had to be at least six-five. His white-blond hair had the I-just-rolled-out-of-bed-this-sexy look, but she was sure it was styled. The yuppie clothing confirmed her suspicion—leather loafers, sleek button-up shirt, and designer jeans. He gave the impression he was going out clubbing instead of taking a Sunday drive in the country.
Spencer felt the male’s second sweep across her body like a burning brush fire. His expression, no doubt reflecting her own, with equal parts suspicion, dismay, and intrigue. Good, she could use that. She had no room in her life for a shifter mate, and if this male felt the same way, the sooner they parted, the better.
Switching on obvious charm that didn’t reach his wary eyes, he smiled and the bottom plunged out of her stomach. Holy Smoky Bear, he was lethal. And that smile, directed her way, made it seem like he was attainable and willing, like he stepped out of a cologne ad just for her.
“Howdy, ma’am. I just stopped by to introduce myself.”
The male started forward, probably to shake hands. And as much as the thought of touching him skin-to-skin made her palms sweat in anticipation, she needed to make him stop.
“You can make introductions from there.”
He stopped abruptly, his eyebrows rising in surprise. Again with the devastating, but fake, smile.
“Yes, ma’am. I’m Bennett Young. Pleasure to meet you, Miss…?”
“Why are you here?”
Again with the eyebrows rising. Maybe he was used to getting what he wanted, especially out of women.
“We’re neighbors, ma’am. Just fixin’ to introduce myself.” Where before she thought she heard a hint of southern drawl, she was sure of it now. And sure that he was forcing it, authentic or not. Maybe that worked with most human women, heck, it probably worked with most species of female, but she wasn’t normal and as much as she wanted to roll in the syllables slipping off his tongue, she couldn’t afford any kind of weakness now.
Wait, did he say neighbors? Aww, nuggets.
She grudgingly gave in. “Spencer King.”
There go those eyebrows again. She shocked him three times now and found she liked catching this male off guard.
“You’re…? Miss King, it’s my pleasure.”
Really? Because it didn’t look like it. It looked like she had kicked his puppy and told him the Tooth Fairy wasn’t real. He probably assumed the new owner was a guy and was expecting to bypass the difficult woman. People assumed Spencer was a guy’s name, that was exactly why her parents named her that. Usually she went by Sarah, but Spencer knew this male would keep pushing until he talked to the new owner.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Young. Thanks for stopping by.” Spencer backed up to head back inside without taking her eyes off him.
He made a move forward. “Please, call me Bennett. How are you liking it here?”
A low rumble emanated from Cuddles and was cut off immediately. Brows drawn, she checked over her dog but nothing seemed amiss. Cuddles was shooting Bennett a look of consternation. Bennett himself was gazing innocently back at Spencer.
“It’s fine,” was all she said.
“My buddies and I live on the bordering property, to the south. We’re in real estate and finance. We like the privacy to work.”
Suuure. “So you and a bunch of guys set up a commune for finance and sell real estate?” Oh, sugar. Even as she said it, the meaning dawned on her.
A bunch of male shifters living far from town. If they all resounded with the same intensity and power this male did, she knew exactly what they were. Who they were. Guardians. Smooth move, Spencer. Way to fly low and innocuous. No wonder land records didn’t alert her when she researched this place. They probably bought it under a dummy name years ago.
“No, not like that. We have women, too. I mean, shit…” He blew out a breath of frustration.
“I’d appreciate it if you watched your mouth on my property, Mr. Young,” she said primly.
Rising eyebrows and a slow blush almost made her smile. She was beyond a hat trick for shocking him, and moved on to embarrassment. Or pissed off, she wasn’t sure yet.
“I apologize, ma’am. I was just trying to clarify our living situation so as not to alarm you.”
“No need,” Spencer attempted to brush him off. “Thanks for the info. See ya around.” Attempt number two at getting up her porch steps to send a clear message to Bennett that the conversation was over.
He took another few steps in her direction. Cuddles tried to growl again, only to get cut off, thumping his tail in frustration against the ground.
“Miss King, I see you have cows. Are you turning this place into a hobby farm?”
Spencer’s lungs froze. He was asking about her cows. Why did he need to know about her cows? Deciding a modicum of truth was the best policy, and maybe the fastest way to get him the heck gone since he was obviously searching for information, she quickly deliberated what to tell him.
“Yes, Mr. Young, though Bessie and Tulip are more like pets.”
The devastating smile flashed. “Bennett, please.”
“Bennett.” Oh, that felt too good rolling off her tongue. Did his navy eyes just sparkle with satisfaction? “I plan to have a hobby farm of sorts, but also grow and sell for retail.”
“Do you hire in help, or do you have a family out here to help?” Subtle. She didn’t miss the calculating look in those mesmerizing eyes.
It didn’t take long for her to decide what to tell him. His heightened senses would know she was the only one out here. She could pretend to have a beau, but she had enough to hide without adding extra facets to her story.
“I’m independent. Perhaps I’ll expand this operation eventually, but as you can see, I’m just in the beginning phases now that it’s spring.”
“I’d love to hear more about your plans. Care to grab some coffee?”
“I don’t drink coffee.”
“A soda, then.”
Scrambling mentally for a suitable excuse to avoid further alone time with the drool-worthy male in front of her, she glanced back at her rundown, shoddy house. When she turned back to Bennett, she released a small gasp. That brief second she too
k her eyes off him he used to cover the distance between them.
Cuddles gave a small growl and Bennett looked at her protector sharply before holding out a strong, work-roughened hand. To her astonishment and utter dismay, Cuddles granted Bennett a little sniff before bumping his head under the hand. Before, her beloved dog may have been under some kind of compulsion, but now he was just a desperate softie.
“What’s his name?” Bennett asked fondly, scratching the pooch behind the ears.
“Cuddles.”
Bennett blanched and gaped at her with alarm. “What? And he tolerates it?”
“He should. He earned it,” Spencer said a bit defensively. Every time she ceased movement and so much as sat down, she was covered in a giant mound of panting fur. She even had to upgrade bed sizes so she at least had a little room to sleep around the massive German shepherd.
“It should be, like, Maximus or Apollo, or something manly. Not fu-, ah, Cuddles.”
It disconcerted her that she was pleased he cleaned up his language for her. “You can ask him what he prefers and call him that, but to me he’ll always be Cuddles.” His demeanor turned calculating and she realized her error. “I’m sure he’ll be full of suggestions, like most males.” She attempted to play it off as a joke, like she didn’t suspect he was controlling her dog. “I’m sorry, Bennett. I’ll have to take a rain check on the soda. The weather forecast is excellent today, and I need to get some work done.”
Bennett scanned their surroundings and she knew what he saw. Old gardens, overrun with brown, dried weeds and brush and dilapidated fences that were missing entire sections. The previous owner let the surrounding woods encroach on the cleared acres that had once been used for farming and ranching. The house itself had been allowed to wither under age and weather, but was structurally sound, for the most part. Sometimes the amount of work was more mentally overwhelming than physically. But she had time.
“Well,” Bennett drawled, putting Spencer back in his sights. “I’ll hold you to that rain check. How ’bout I lend a hand around here?”
The Sigma Menace Collection Page 35
