Black Mesa Wolves Complete Series Boxset Bks 1-7

by J. K Harper

  His wolf made satisfied circles in his mind before settling down, content.

  Rafe reached down to help Sara sit up. Even in the dark of the alley he could tell her hair was mussed up, and her skirt was still bunched around her waist. He liked her in this state. Disheveled, all because of him.

  “Let's get you out of here,” he said, reaching over to find her crumpled top he'd used as a pillow for her head. He handed it to her, letting his fingers stroke lightly along her arms as he did. Her little shiver in response gratified him, despite the slight awkwardness he thought he sensed in her silence.

  After they were both clothed again, he tucked her under his arm and guided them out of the alley. A growing quiet blanketed them as they walked, but her hip bumped against his and she stayed right beside him. She pointed him in the direction of her car, since he'd come with Caleb and had no idea where his brother was, although he suspected probably still enjoying walloping on someone at this point.

  “Will you drive?” she asked when they got to her small girly car, handing him the keys. He dropped another kiss on the top of her head, then lifted her chin up so he could savor her lips again. She murmured against his mouth, sliding her hand behind his neck and gently pulling him closer to her.

  Yet when she pulled back, she wouldn't meet his eyes. Uneasy, he sensed a deeper withdrawing. Feeling a small frown settle on his forehead, he opened the door for her and saw her in. Getting into the driver's seat, he drove them away. The space between them froze with each minute, and damned if Rafe had no idea what the hell to do about it now.

  By the time they reached her small house, he knew he'd lost her, for now at least. Huddled into the passenger seat, face turned toward the window the entire, increasingly tense time, her body language gave him a clear message.

  One, she'd enjoyed herself immensely with him.

  Two, she'd let loose something she hadn't meant to, and it was now scaring her half to death.

  Three, she was his. That wasn't even a question any longer.

  But four, she also wasn't quite ready to take the final step toward him.

  His wolf growled in a combination of exasperation and distress, echoing the dark shadows in Rafe's thoughts.

  He parked in her driveway and came to her side to open the door. Guiding her up the few steps to her front door, he waited until she fumbled for her key. Then, leaving his voice as raw as he felt, he spoke.

  “Well, Sara?” Nothing else. He wasn't about to throw her a lifeline.

  She jolted a little as his tone hit her. The night smelled like rich, loamy earth and the spicy, sexy wolf before him.

  “Rafe.” Her voice cracked. She cleared her throat and tried again. “I think I—I mean, I love you.”

  The night sounds stretched out, barely covering his pounding heart. He heard the truth in her words. Even so, something was still missing.

  “But.” He said the word in a voice still scraped wide open.

  “There is no but, Rafe. I really love you. I can admit that.” She laughed, a little shakily.

  A dry snort left him.

  “There's a but in there. I can hear it.”

  “I'm yours, Rafe.”

  She reached out and took his hands, but he didn't respond to her gentle squeeze.

  “I don't want anyone else.” Her voice was a whisper.

  “Then what is it?”

  “I don't even know,” she admitted.

  “Yes, you do,” he said, sudden insistence making his voice louder than he'd intended. Immediately shaking his head, he placed his palms on the sides of her face and kissed her until her breath quickened.

  Reluctant, he slowly pulled back. “Yes, you know exactly what's wrong,” he ground out, somewhat more softly. “You need to figure out who the hell you are. I know you're my mate, Sara. But I need you to understand and believe that yourself.”

  Her eyes wet, she tried to pull him closer. Shaking his head again, he released her and stepped away. If he didn't leave right this second, he'd blow it again and ruin for good everything he thought he'd just won. She insisted on fighting this internal battle on her own, so he had to let her do it.

  Even if it killed him.

  Drawing on every ounce of his willpower, he simply said, “Good night, Sara.”

  Quickly, he forced himself to turn around and walk home alone before the feeling of being punched in the chest could make him stagger.

  13

  Rafe kept his head to the ground as he trotted. He could smell a very faint wolf trail, but it was too old to pick up much more than it was a shifter. One of the strange wolves who'd been around here last week, maybe. No others beside Black Mesa Pack members had crossed through recently.

  He raised his head for a moment, checking the horizon. Empty landscape stretched out for miles ahead, cluttered only with dusty red sandstone buttes and spires and canyons and the gradual spill of mountains. The den wasn't that far behind them, but he and Sara had driven down a dirt road for a ways before parking and shifting into wolf form. Now they were about two miles from the car, just nosing around to make sure there'd been no more interlopers on Black Mesa territory.

  Rafe flicked an ear back. Sara's paws hit the ground in steady cadence as she trotted behind him. He flicked his ear forward again, then back. His human paced as well, split between focusing on the landscape and focusing on the sleek wolf just out of reach.

  The past week had been beyond tense. Rafe knew he would leave sooner than later to start scouting for the new northern pack. Alpha wanted him in place with a full base pack—a minimum of nine strong members to begin—before the end of the next month. Something disturbing loomed in the future that had the Alpha quietly agitated, which Rafe had never before witnessed. He suspected it had something to do with either rogues in general or Luke Rawlins' old pack in particular, but his father hadn't yet said.

  Sara still avoided any meaningful contact with him in human form as she wrestled with whatever demons she thought she needed to face down. Even so, there was no hiding from the connection they'd forged during the mating frenzy. In wolf form, she was much closer and playful with him, but her human fears kept her restrained.

  Rafe would only push so far, though. She knew his mind and what he wanted. He could go start the pack without her. But sooner than later, he needed his strong, reliable, clever mate with him. There was no forcing that issue to happen.

  His human grumbled. Rafe thoroughly agreed.

  “Rafe,” Sara said in a small warning bark.

  He swung his head back at her. She'd paused, nose in the air, sniffing. He turned his head up toward the sky to pull in scents as well. Nothing unusual. He looked at her, ears alert in curiosity.

  She shook her head. “Thought there was something. Never mind.”

  He slowed his steps so could trot alongside him. Reaching over with a quick movement, he nipped gently at the scruff of her neck. She nosed back at him, baring her teeth in mock play. Just as quickly, though, she backed off and kept her distance.

  Rafe trotted on, his tail waving a little lower. Sara being afraid of the reality, of the commitment, of him, was still difficult. She didn't need to prove anything to him. He knew how strong and brave and fierce she was.

  She needs to know that herself, his human whispered in a somewhat bleak tone.

  Rafe trotted on, feeling grim. His every instinct said to mate with her again, to take her, to show her he was strong enough for them both. But his rational human side insisted on letting her prove to herself how strong she was. Only then would she accept that some sort of freedom without him wasn't nearly as fun as a full, long life with him.

  Right?

  The thoughts and emotions bouncing around inside him made him sloppy. He stopped paying strict attention to his surroundings. A violent rustle just ahead was the only warning he got.

  Three furry, deadly shapes dropped down from a cluster of large juniper trees about two feet away. Howling and baying like devil hounds, they headed straigh
t for him.

  “Rafe!” Sara's scream echoed through his ears as one of the wolves barreled into him, knocking him over and plowing him into the ground. He got a strong whiff of sagebrush and a nose-wrinkling chemical scent cover.

  Rogues.

  Rearing up, jaw opened in a growling slash, Rafe lunged for his attackers. Mid leap, an enormous paw slammed into his head, sending him sprawled back on the ground. He caught only a glimpse of a wolf's back legs kicking out at his face with brutal strength, connecting with enough force to rock his head back and send up a shower of pain blazing through his skull.

  His last thought before darkness crashed down was of Sara.

  * * *

  Sara screamed again, a ripping howl of unearthly panic and fear, as the rogue wolves battered Rafe to the ground and then kicked him into an unconscious slump.

  “No!” she shrieked. “Bastards!”

  She lunged toward Rafe, needing to make certain he still actually breathed. But the larger wolf, who had an iron gray coat peppered with white flecks and eerily bright amber eyes, stepped over Rafe's supine form and into her way. Jaw relaxed into a cruel smirk, he bared his sharp teeth at her in a clear threat.

  Sara skidded to a halt, fur standing on end, looking as huge and threatening as she possibly could to the three wolves who looked back at her with distinctly unfriendly gleams in their eyes. She barely felt the sandy soil beneath her paws or smelled the clean, sharp scents of the desert in springtime. Her every sense was riveted on the wolves before her—and Rafe's still body.

  “Aren't you a pretty wolf.” The one with the flecked coat flared his nostrils at her. Sara stood her ground, baring her teeth back at him. Inwardly, she shrank back. He was enormous, and foul. “And you smell good.”

  Think! she urged herself. Her human leaped around in her mind, staying close but jittering in fear and shock at the sight of her mate lying there, unmoving.

  Her mate. She had to save her mate, at all costs. Desperation and clarity kept her back ruffed up, her teeth bared and snapping, and her mind racing.

  Sara could never take on three male wolves with vicious intentions. She wasn't exactly sure what their intentions were, but clearly they harbored no respect for her in their regard. All she was certain of was that they were rogues, and they might have killed Rafe.

  Think, she again desperately commanded herself. All her solid Guardian training had scattered into the sheer panic she felt at seeing Rafe injured, and being alone with three very aggressive rogue wolves. The fact she and Rafe hadn't scented them—although she had caught the slightest whiff of something earlier—meant this was a deliberate stalking.

  They're rogues. It means they only truly need one thing, she finally thought with a stab of perception. Rogues, outcasts who were on their own and desperate, needed a mate.

  Rafe wasn't their prize.

  She was.

  Everything fell into place with a sickening thud. She was a prime candidate. They wanted her. And at three to one, they would easily be able to take her.

  But the one thing Sara had going for her was speed. Her swift feet were legendary in the Pack. No one could catch her, if she surprised them. It had to work.

  With a last yearning glance at Rafe, Sara abruptly turned tail and bolted. She sprang from one side of a boulder to the other, zigging and zagging for all she was worth. Furious howls behind her and the spray of sand being launched beneath three sets of paws told her they were immediately behind her. She leaped forward as if shot from a cannon, racing for the car.

  Her cell phone was in there. Shifters had no telepathic abilities, but modern technology sure was a damn nice thing at a time like this.

  Lungs burning as she ran flat out, Sara led the enraged wolves in a crooked line. If she ran straight, they would catch her. She had to keep them off center and guessing as she twisted one way and then abruptly turned the other. Hoping they didn't realize where she was taking them, she lured them closer and closer.

  When Sara was about a hundred yards from where they'd parked, she had maybe fifty feet on her closest pursuer. Not daring to look back in case she stumbled or lost her momentum, she put on a last enormous burst of speed. She had to get there before they did.

  Racing around a small, spiky bush, Sara shifted her form in mid stride. Exceedingly thankful real shifter genes operated much more easily than humans believed, she landed on two feet still in a dead run. Countless shifts over her lifetime had honed a sense of the exact balance she needed to keep forward motion going as a human on two legs straight from the wolf on four.

  She didn't miss a step as she pitched herself at the car and dove for the top of the back driver's side wheel. Grabbing the keys from their resting place atop the tire, she beeped the door open and threw herself inside. Slamming it shut behind her, she frantically grabbed for her phone somewhere in the back seat.

  Something crashed into the car and it rocked violently. Sara shrieked as she looked up. Furious yellow eyes framed in a snarling face glared back at her. The big wolf had landed on the hood of the car. He stood there, hackles up, the picture of chilling menace.

  Sara felt suitably menaced. She tore through the clothes piled haphazardly in the back seat, chanting to herself, “Come on, come on, dammit,” as she checked pockets and shook out Rafe's shirt.

  Oh, God, what if they'd killed him?

  Scrabbling on the floor behind the seat, she twisted herself awkwardly from the front seat and groped around with a blind hand. Relief surged through as her hand touched a solid, rectangular little shape.

  “Nice view,” came a loud, leering voice from outside the window.

  Sara's heart almost stuttered from its chest. Her fingers closing on the phone, she threw herself back into the front seat and whirled to look out. The other two wolves had shifted to human and stood just outside her door. One reached for the handle, grinning in lewd appreciation as he took in her nakedness.

  In front of these unhinged rogue wolves, she felt sickeningly self-conscious. Her wolf half-snarled, half-whimpered. She pushed at Sara's mind to shift.

  Not yet. Hastily, fingers slipping, she slammed down the power locks on the doors.

  The one outside the door shook his finger at her in mock chastisement. His eyes roamed over her form through the barely tinted window. Sara shrank back and punched at the contacts list in her phone.

  It rang at the den. Pick up pick up pick up, she silently begged.

  The oddly speckled wolf on the hood growled loudly when he saw her raise the phone to her ear. She stared out at him. Despite her almost paralyzing fear for Rafe, the utter shock of the situation had settled into a more precise focus. Her Guardian training finally kicked in. She noted the rogue's markings, his size, and the timbre of his voice. Forcing herself to make the same cool assessment of the two standing beside her door, rapping their knuckles on the window and sharing laughing, nasty exchanges between themselves as they tried to scare her more, she took in every little detail about them.

  “Hello, Bardou home,” Caleb's voice said on the other end of the line, answering with the cover response they used for the publicly accessible number.

  Relief almost gave her a head rush. “Caleb! I'm at the car, I'm surrounded by three rogues. Rafe was knocked out, I think”—she took in a shaky breath, then forced herself to stay in the levelheaded Guardian mode—“I think that's all, but he might be really hurt—”

  “Hold on.” She heard him shout for the Alpha. “Okay, tell me exactly where you are.” Fury tinged his words. In the background, she could hear running steps.

  Keeping her eyes locked with the almost jaundiced yellow ones staring at her about three inches away from the windshield, Sara rattled off her location and Rafe's. Her voice became calmer as she spoke. She knew the rogues could hear her every word, as well as Caleb's, but it didn't matter. They would know the entire Black Mesa Pack would be coming for them, and things were about to get really ugly.

  “Okay, okay, got it,” Caleb said. Hi
s voice had dropped an octave. His wolf must be so directly beneath the surface his eyes were probably glowing. “We're on our way. And I'm going to kill that rogue bastard when I see him next.” Caleb's voice was a flat promise. Sara knew instinctively he meant Luke Rawlins.

  “I don't recognize any of them. I don't think these are his—” she began.

  “I don't care,” he shot back. “He brought them here, and my brother is hurt.”

  Sara couldn't argue with that.

  “Stay put,” Caleb snarled, “you can't fight off three of them—”

  “I know,” she cut in, eyeing the big one still glaring daggers at her from the hood. “Please hurry, I'm really worried about Rafe.” She heard her voice quaver again, but she didn't care. She'd left her heart with the strong, amazing wolf left lying on the desert floor miles away.

  “Okay, hang tight—”

  “Wait. Something's happening,” she said. She gripped the phone so tightly she thought it might crack.

  The wolf on the hood had swung his head toward the other two. They frowned back at him but instantly shifted. With a sneer back at her revealing the razor-sharp canines in his mouth, he leaped off the hood.

  “Catch us if you can, little she-wolf,” he called out in an ugly singsong. “I think we have something you want.”

  All three of them loped off.

  Back to where Rafe lay, unconscious and helpless.

  14

  “No!” Sara screamed so loudly she thought she burst a blood vessel in her eye. Dropping the phone, ignoring the tinny voice shouting through it, she punched open the door and fell out. In a heartbeat, she shifted and took off after the rogue wolves racing at full speed back to her downed mate.

  Sara thought she had run fast before. Now, breath pumping out of her lungs in smooth, powerful bursts, she realized she had never truly let herself go all out. Her legs jetted over the sandy ground, barely touching the earth and leaping off again so quickly she felt like a cannonball shooting through the landscape. This time, she raced in a straight line, curving it only slightly to bring her to the outside of the path of the wolves ahead of her.