by T. S. Joyce
Feeling steadier, she let off a long breath and stood. Wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, she grabbed the keys to the ATV and left Dad’s cabin. She’d taken over the payments on this place, but her money would run out soon. That was okay, as long as she got the job done before she lost this house. Then she could go back to the city feeling accomplished for making Alaska, and the world, a safer place.
She tossed the woods to her right a withering look. The next property over was Lincoln McCall’s land, and the next after that was Dalton Dawson’s land. She was surrounded by werewolves here, but not for long.
Starting today, she would work her way into the Galena pack and destroy them.
She revved the ATV engine, then headed for town. It was ten miles of muddy roads, and the four-wheeler wasn’t ideal for the long drive, but Chance might recognize her dad’s truck, so the two-year-old, cherry-red, jacked-up F-150 wasn’t a viable means of transportation anymore. It would draw too much attention. It was a ride only a doctor could afford out here, and the doctor in town had been murdered by monsters.
She took a mud splat to the face and hated everything. Uncle Victor said that kind of fury was good. He said the more she gave into it, the easier it would be to see the evil in this world. He’d told her it was only rage and hatred that would allow her to see the pack as it really was. Under their human disguise, they were tufts of black smoke and smelled of hellfire because that’s where they’d originated. Hell.
And now Kate was pregnant with a little demon baby. Congratu-fuckin-lations.
Emily’s hands shook with the mass of emotion overcoming her as she pulled into a parking spot near the grocery store. From here, she could see the gas station down the street, so she settled in, pulled a chocolate chip granola bar from her jacket pocket, and ate it slowly, waiting for Chance to fall into the first sticky strand of her web.
“Miss, it’s freezing out here,” a tall, gray-haired man said, shoving his hands deeper into his coat pockets.
Indeed it was, and now her fingers weren’t just shaking from nerves and anger. A relentless shivering had taken her and wouldn’t ease.
She gave him an empty fuck-off smile and took another bite of granola.
“I’m Hardware Jack.” The man arched his bushy silver eyebrows and waited.
Grrr to small towns.
With a sigh, she held out her hand and shook his. “Emily V—” She gave a vacant smile and corrected herself. “Emily Chastain.” The last thing she needed was for her real last name to make it around town. Likely everyone knew her father personally. After all, he had been the only town doctor at the medical center.
Hardware Jack frowned, as if he’d caught the slip, but shook her hand readily enough. “I have a heater inside the hardware store if you are waiting on someone.”
“Thanks, but polite decline.”
He hesitated another moment, as if waiting for her to recount her entire life story of why she was here, but she wasn’t interested in making friends. However… “Do you know Lincoln McCall?”
“Oh yes, ma’am, I do. He’s good people.”
She declined to snort her disagreement. Neither “good” nor “people” adequately described a werewolf. Bad demon, more like.
“Are you wanting him for a job?”
“Yes,” she answered, thinking fast. “What kind of work is he good at?”
“Construction and handy-man work. That young buck can fix just about anything. And he makes sure to order everything locally to support the small businesses here instead of going direct through his friends, the Silvers, to have supplies delivered. Oh, he could cut out the middle man and save himself money, but he likes to help out where he can. They all do.”
“All of who?”
“Him and his buddies, Dalton and Chance. Any time they’re in town, they spend the money they earn as outdoor guides to put back into Galena. We’re lucky they decided to make this their second home. Real friendly bunch. They’ve helped out some of us who struggled this winter. Chance and Dalton even hunted some caribou and brought the meat back for some of our old folks who can’t hunt too easily anymore. Red meat gets scarce around here, you see. The grocery store runs out and jacks up the prices in dark winter when the Silvers can’t bring deliveries in here on account of the blizzards. Those Dawson boys are good hunters, though, some of the best outdoor guides in the whole world and highly sought after, and this winter, they used their skills to keep some of our older folks from going hungry.”
That niggling guilt was back, as were the questions about everything Uncle Victor had told her in training. Surely, their kind deeds were just a ruse to keep rumors at bay in a town that would come for them with torches and pitch forks if they knew what they really harbored.
“Miss, are you okay? You look flushed. My offer still stands if you want to warm up in the hardware store. It’s early spring in Alaska, sure, but the snow isn’t done for the year, and if you aren’t from around here, you should know, nights get awful cold awful fast.”
The rumble of a truck sounded down the street, and a dark-colored Chevy pulled into the gas station. It was him.
“Uh, I’m fine, thank you. I’ll just fill up with gas and be on my way. Thanks for the chat.” And the ass-load of confusion he’d just dumped onto her. With a stiff wave, Emily backed out of the parking spot and followed the truck into the gas station.
She could do this. The blond man from the picture had slid out of the truck and was pumping gas. When she pulled up at the other side of the pump, she realized there was only one nozzle so she waited there awkwardly as he stood with his broad back to her, leaning against the side of the truck as he held the lever.
She opened her mouth to say something, but he turned toward her abruptly, his nostrils flared and his eyes narrowed. His eyes were such a cool green, she froze under his attention. Chance Dawson dragged his gaze down the length of her, to her jacket, thighs, hiking boots, then back up, hitting all her curvy spots. Emily’s breath quickened in her chest, and her heart pounded against her sternum, urging her to run.
Chance straightened and canted his head in a very animal-like way. Eyes locked on hers, he said, “Nice wheels.”
Emily looked behind her and then gave him a tremulous smile. “Those said wheels are a little low on air.”
Chance jerked his chin to an air pump. “That machine is a little bastard and takes double the quarters it says, just so you know.”
“Th-thanks,” she stammered. Shit. She had to get ahold of herself and remember how to seduce a man, and fast. “I like your wheels, too.”
“Not mine,” he said as the gas pump lever clicked, telling him the tank was full. “It belongs to my cousin. I don’t have much use for a truck yet. Figured I’d top him off while I was in town for borrowing his ride, though.”
“That’s nice of you,” she gritted out, her head spinning. Why was he acting like a damned saint when he was a devil in disguise?
Chance grunted, apparently uninterested in her compliments, and handed her the pump, careful to keep the tip pointed away from her. But when she reached for it, her hand brushed his, and a shock zinged up her arm. It was painful, as if she’d punched an electric fence.
“Ow!” She dropped the pump and shook out her fingers. “What was that for?”
Chance was staring down at his own hand as if he’d never seen it before, and with troubled eyes, he backed away from her a step. He pulled off his black winter hat, and she noticed for the first time that he wasn’t wearing a jacket despite the bitter chill in the air. Instead, he wore a gray, skin-tight sweater with a smattering of holes on the shoulder and the top two buttons undone, exposing a rock-hard chest beneath. His hair was mussed from the hat, and her fingers suddenly itched to smooth it out, just to see if the platinum blond crop was as soft as it looked. He was tall, much taller than her, with wide shoulders that tapered into a V-shaped waist, and long, powerful legs clad in low slung jeans. His skin was fair, which gave her an advantage b
ecause now his cheeks were coloring red, and she could see she had some sort of effect on him.
Before she could change her mind, she reached forward and pressed her hand onto his chest, right over his heart. It beat in a fast, steady rhythm under her palm.
Chance’s gaze turned intense in an instant. He held her hand there, pressed against him, watching her like a hunter on prey.
Uncle Victor had told her shifters didn’t have hearts, but clearly, he’d been wrong. Or he’d lied.
Feeling like the earth was toppling and splitting under her feet, Emily huffed a frozen breath and pulled her hand away in a rush. “I’m sorry.”
“Who are you?” he asked in a deep timbre that brought chills to her forearms. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. She was supposed to seduce him, not the other way around.
“Emily Chastain,” she whispered. “I’m new here. Just bought a cabin up the road.”
Even pretty monsters could hear lies, so she had to stick as close to the truth as possible.
Chance stepped closer and tugged a strand of her chestnut hair that had been whipping around in the wind. He held it between his fingers for a moment, his eyes unreadable as he stared at it. But as fast as he’d snatched it from the air, he released it and turned, then strode inside the gas station, leaving her unsteady and wondering what the hell had just happened.
As if in a trance, Emily filled the tank of her ATV and then stumbled inside to pay. With one slow blink to the back where Chance was loading his gargantuan hand with a stack of individually-wrapped pickles, she stepped up to the counter. She reached into her back pocket to grab…nothing.
Shit. Frantically, she searched both back pockets, her front pockets, and inside the abundance of zippers of her fitted winter jacket. Double shit. “I-I think I forgot my wallet.” In her rush to get here, her mind clouded with anger, she’d left her pink money pouch on the kitchen table. She was sure of it.
The gas station attendant raised her delicate, dark eyebrows and offered her a bland expression. “Seriously?”
“I’m so sorry,” Emily rushed out. “I live right up the road. Is it okay if I go get it and come right back?”
“No. No free gas. That shit’s hard to come by and like gold around here right now. If you were a townie, I’d trust you, but as it stands, I’ve never seen you before in my life.”
“But I am a townie. A new townie—”
“I’ve got her,” Chance said from behind as he handed the attendant a wad of cash. “For my gas, this plethora of pickles, and her gas, too. You can keep the change.”
The attendant, Renee, her nametag said, counted the money and gave him a flirty smile. “You’re giving me an extra twenty? For what?”
“For being foxy as shit, Renee,” he said through a heart-stopping grin for the woman.
A flare of something green and ugly unfurled in Emily’s middle.
Chance waved to Renee and headed out, the bell of the door dinging as he left.
“Sorry, I’ll be better prepared next time,” Emily rushed out, then bolted out the door after him.
Chance was already in his truck, and the engine roared to life, but she had to know. Jogging around the front of his truck, she nearly slipped in the mud before righting herself with a yelp and sidling to the driver’s side window.
Chance narrowed his eyes suspiciously at her, but rolled down the window. “What?”
“Why did you do that? Why did you pay for my gas?”
“Look, you seem like a”—he dragged his gaze down the zipper of her form-fitting jacket and then back to her face—“city slicker. Let me tell you a thing or two about small towns, lady. If you want to be considered a townie here, it’s best to help people out when you can.”
“Is that why you help people? So you can be a townie?” Made sense. Camouflage and all that.
“No,” he said through an offended frown. “You didn’t have money, I did, and it’s no skin off my back to buy gas for your little four-wheeler. Now, back up. I don’t want to run over your foot.”
“Go out with me,” she rushed.
Chance relaxed back against the seat with an irritated sigh. “Lady—”
“Emily.”
Chance gritted his teeth so hard a muscle jumped in his jaw. “Emily. I appreciate the offer, but—”
“Don’t say no. I’m not asking you romantically, but you’re the first person who has actually talked to me since I got into town, and I want to buy you a drink as a thank you for buying my gas.”
“I didn’t do it for payback.”
Emily inhaled deeply and gripped the open window frame. “Please. One drink. Or dinner at the”—she looked up the main street of Galena—“only diner in town. Or coffee!” What the hell was she doing? She was supposed to seduce him into divulging information, not ask him on an actual date. If Uncle Victor saw her right now, he’d yank her back to Anchorage and start her Hell Hunter training all over again.
“Let go of the truck,” he said low, his eyes flashing dangerously.
Swallowing hard, she loosened her grip and backed away. Chance took off, but a few yards later, he locked his brakes and skidded to a stop in the mud. Hope bloomed in her chest as he sat there, idling. At last, Chance rested his elbow on the open window and stuck his head out, eyes locking with hers. “One drink. Smiley’s Bar tonight at ten.”
“Tonight?” she asked. She was supposed to call Uncle Victor at ten tonight and debrief him on her scouting so far. Bad timing.
“I’m leaving town for work soon. It’s tonight or never.”
“Okay, ten o’clock.” She nodded decidedly. “I’ll be there.”
Chance began to drive away, so she rocked up on her tiptoes and called, “And I’ll actually bring money this time!”
He pulled out of the parking lot and sped toward the grocery store without looking back while she stood there for two minutes too long, feeling like a fawn on new legs and completely stupid for calling out that last joke.
When she realized what she’d done, dread dumped into her system.
She’d just set a date with a monster.
Chapter Four
Emily Chastain smelled like flowers.
And not just any flowers, but the floral scent that had coated Dalton’s land and the inside of his shed. It was in her hair, the soft tress he’d fingered. Maybe it was her shampoo or the conditioner she used, but when he smelled his fingers again, Chance couldn’t put it to rest. The scent matched.
He didn’t know why she’d been in his shed, but Chance was going to find out.
Wiley little hunter. He knew a femme fatale when he saw one, and she was about as pretty a lure as he’d ever seen. Long brown hair that shone with every wave she’d carefully curled into it. Big blue eyes that were as deep as wells. That fucking adorable little nose, and full lips that would look perfect puckered around the head of his cock. It didn’t help that she smelled like arousal when he’d handed her the gas pump, and why the hell had that electric shock between them been so affecting? It was probably just from touching the pump and then immediately touching her skin, but he’d never felt a spark that powerful.
What on God’s green and blue planet had possessed her to feel his heartbeat? His wolf had been howling for him to fuck her in the back of Dalton’s truck.
Conniving little human with secrets as deep as a cave, and every answer of hers had bordered on half-truth. She was working to catch him, but why? And more irritatingly, why did he care so damned much? Why did a part of him want to be caught by her?
Emily Chastain was trouble in a sexy body.
****
Emily twitched her curls off her shoulder and applied lip gloss for the third time since she’d been standing out in front of Smiley’s Bar in the cold. She was pretty sure the balm was actually freezing her lips into a frown. Chance was late. No, not late. Chance was standing her up.
Not that she didn’t deserve it, on account of being here to kill him and all, but a big part o
f her was feeling really hurt that he apparently had no interest in her. So selfish. She hated herself for these wishy-washy back and forth feelings she’d had since she’d met him earlier.
Bobbing to keep warm, she pushed her hands deeper into her coat pockets, then leaned against the wooden wall outside of the bar. Inside, an old country song played on the jukebox, but out here, the main drag in Galena looked like a ghost town. She alone was standing in the beam of the single street light, waiting on a man…er, monster…who would never show up.
God, she’d been so stupid, thinking animals had manners.
No, stop that. This wasn’t a date. It was a reconnaissance mission. It was a way to figure out how to hunt Chance’s pack.
She hopped up and down to stay warm, but halted at the sound of the guttural rumble of a pickup truck. A pair of headlights nearly blinded her.
Shielding her face, she made her way to the parking spot where the familiar truck skidded to a stop. Chance opened the door, eyes unapologetic. In fact, he looked angry at being here.
“You’re an entire hour late,” she murmured.
Chance slammed the door and ran a hand roughly through his blond hair, short on the sides, but longer up top so it spiked up everywhere. “I would’ve called but I don’t have your number.” He jerked his head to the truck. My cousin and his wife wanted to come out.”
“To meet me?”
“No! Because we don’t get much time to spend together when Dalton and I are in town. But Kate wasn’t feeling well, and I didn’t want to rush her.”
“Oh.” Well, that was understandable, and her irritation dissipated like a fog in sunshine. “Why is Kate sick?” she asked innocently as the passenger’s side door opened and a tall, dark-haired man got out and helped a slight woman with strawberry-colored hair and giant green eyes.
Chance looked at Kate over the hood of the truck with something akin to worry in his eyes. “She’s pregnant. The morning sickness is bad.”
A pang of pity took Emily, but she didn’t know why. She already knew the woman was pregnant and morning sick, and with a werewolf pup. Maybe it was the genuinely worried look on Chance’s chiseled features right now. She wasn’t heartless after all, just trained to see past the bullshit façade they gave other humans.
