by J. K Harper
His wolf growled, low and worried, at the thought of rogues. They'd killed a good friend of his a few months ago. The memory of that senseless, wasteful death still made Tate clench his jaw even as his eyes prickled. Tate didn't get crazy upset about things the way Caleb did. Nor was he as coolly calculating as Rafe. His modus operandi was to consider the situation, then throw his weight behind whichever plan seemed best. That usually tended to be his Alpha's plan, or Rafe's. Tate would never charge off after the rogues on his own to exact vengeance. That wouldn't solve a thing except likely get him killed, too. He really wasn't all that interested in fighting anyway. Sure, he could fight, and he could do a darn good job of it. But there were better ways to solve problems. Even when the price paid had been the life of a cubhood friend.
Rogues are danger, his wolf whispered in his mind. Worry still underlined his tone.
Yes, they were. There'd been no reports of any of their activity in this area, however. No rogues prowled here right now. He didn't have to think about them anymore tonight.
Stepping aside to let a couple with a stroller pass him, he took a second to smile at the cute little baby in it. He often babysat for the few Pack couples with very young cubs. He'd always liked babies, despite the fact no way was he ready for something like that himself. His wolf grinned at the thought of cubs before quickly sending an image of chasing deer in the mountains, unencumbered by young wolves who needed far too much attention. Tate laughed to himself and kept walking.
Inhaling a deep whiff of the crisp fall air, he relaxed even more as he wandered through his favorite time of year. The trees above him were loaded with bright golden leaves haloed by the glow of streetlamps. The scent of leaves midway between green and dead had always fascinated him. Humans couldn't really tell, but there was a subtle difference in the fragrance released by the leaves right during their peak colors. To him, fall leaves smelled like an exciting promise. Everything was so bright and clean and alive with the slight chill in the air, after the lazy days of summertime.
Smells like outside. Smells good, his wolf murmured in his mind.
Denver hopped with energy this evening, people walking and laughing and chatting as they ebbed and flowed along the sidewalks, heading to their evening's entertainment. The smell of woodsmoke, probably from some trendy restaurant, drifted through the air as Tate stepped back into the crowds and continued his easy stroll.
Relaxed by the surroundings, he let his thoughts drift for the millionth time to the strange female wolf from a few days ago. His mate. He still couldn't believe it. He'd pretty much not slept that night, restless with excitement and anxiety, though thankfully he'd conked out on the short plane ride in the morning so he hadn't been totally useless on his first day with his new clients. Tate had never given serious thought to a permanent female wolf in his life. Women were great, easy company, especially because they went to their house at night and he stayed at his, and no one got upset about anything. No muss, no fuss. He stayed friends with the ones he dated for longer periods of time, and never in his life had he had any woman truly mad at him. He kept things honest and easy, and that kept everyone happy.
His wolf hurtled images of joyful hunting, playing, and tussling together with the nameless female wolf. His mate, he thought again in some awe. A passionate sense of aliveness held the images, a sense of being truly alert and aware for the first time ever.
“Right,” he muttered to himself as he sought again the memory of her crisp, pure scent. He'd just found the one woman who could rocket him into a higher level of being, and he didn't know who she was. Nor was he sure he was ready for this mate thing. Of course wolves mated, that was a given. It was to be expected. But the encounter had been so unexpected, so startling, he wasn't quite sure he could wrap his mind around it just yet. And immediately recognizing his mate upon seeing her—that wasn't necessarily common, either. Some mates took years to realize they were meant for one another. He just hadn't ever really given much thought to the matter.
Now, though, the intoxicating scent of the beautiful strange wolf stayed with him every moment, teasing him. He could hardly wait to get back home so he could track her down and talk to her. The next time he saw her, he would be sure to approach her much more carefully so she didn't flee again. His no-holds-barred galloping up to her, he recalled with a grimace, had been a stupid mistake on his part.
With a disgusted huff, his wolf agreed.
Rounding a corner, Tate paused as his cell vibrated in his jeans pocket. Slipping it out, he stepped aside to peer at the message while not getting trampled. It was a group message to him, Lily, and Caleb from Rafe.
Remember birthday gifts.
Tate groaned, drawing a slight frown from a passerby hurrying down the sidewalk. He'd totally forgotten it was his mother's birthday next week. Leave it to responsible eldest brother Rafe to remind them all.
His phone jumped in his hand again. Rafe sending a message to just him.
Tate, you should pick something up while you're in Denver. She likes old books. There are some great bookstores there.
“Good point,” he said under his breath. There had to be a bookstore nearby. Thumbing his screen to the browser, he quickly searched for local bookstores. A decent one was around the next block. Still ambling and enjoying the evening, he headed in that direction.
His phone buzzed again. This time, though, it was ringing. Rafe must have decided he needed a verbal reminder.
“Hey,” Tate greeted his older brother good-naturedly. “Got it. Book for Mom. I'm almost at a bookstore.”
Rafe chuckled, sounding eerily like their father. “How's Denver?”
“Big,” Tate replied, dodging a group of laughing people as they spilled out restaurant doors almost right into him. He crinkled his nose just a bit at their tart smells. Seemed most of them had ingested a bunch of garlic with their dinners.
“I have a question for you,” Rafe said. “Alpha talked to me the other night. After the meeting. He wants us to leave week after next to get things actually started.”
“Already?” Tate said, surprised.
Rafe had been tapped by the Alpha to start a new pack far up north, almost to the Canadian border, to keep a sense of order and lawfulness extending farther up toward the wilder reaches where fewer packs existed. With the rogue threat and the realization the most powerful pack in Canada was run by a sick old wolf who planned insurrection, the placement of this new pack was even more important. Even so, Tate hadn't realized his father wanted Rafe and his mate, Sara, to go quite this soon. The sense of the impending loss had already been hard for him to think about, even though he rationally understood all the reasons for the decision.
“Tate,” Rafe said. His usual seriousness became even more firm, alerting Tate's wolf into watchfulness. “I asked Alpha for a substantial favor, and he said yes.” Rafe paused and took a breath before continuing. “We want Caleb to join us in our new pack.”
“Whoa,” Tate said, his thoughts suddenly tripping over themselves. He tried to imagine Caleb's reaction to that invitation, and failed. Caleb and the Black Mesa Pack went together like a cowboy and his hat. Or in this case, like a sometime cage fighter and his gloves. And Caleb answering to Rafe might be a major issue. They got along just fine as siblings, but as an alpha, Rafe would not tolerate even an ounce of Caleb's fired-up temper.
“I need him,” Rafe said simply. “He's incredibly valuable for many reasons. He might even be a Guardian again someday, if he demonstrates he's ready to resume that role. He will respect my authority. He also knows I'll wipe the ground with him if he ever tries anything stupid.”
Both siblings laughed, although there was an uneasy, somewhat unhappy edge to it. Reactive Caleb was not known for making the most well-thought out decisions. Then again, Tate mused, slowing his steps as he approached the bookstore, Caleb's temper had been, well, tempered by Rielle. She was definitely a saving grace in his volatile younger brother's life. Maybe Rafe was counting on that.
Tate's wolf shot him an image of the gorgeous strange female wolf gently rubbing up against his side, washing his face in the way wolves did when they wanted to relax one another. Hmm.
“What did he say when you told him?” Tate asked.
There was a pause before Rafe answered. “We haven't asked him yet. I needed to talk to you first. I wanted to wait until you were done meeting your new clients this weekend, so you could focus on them first.”
Tate frowned. His brother carefully thought out his words as well as his actions before ever doing anything because he always had an endgame. “Why me first? I don't want to have to hide something from him.”
Rafe sighed. “I know. I'll meet with him tomorrow, after you're home. That's also why I wanted to talk to you now, so you have the evening and flight home to think about it.”
Suddenly suspicious, Tate said, “Think about what?”
Another slight pause before Rafe went on. “If Caleb comes with us, it means you'd need to one hundred percent commit to being a Guardian.”
Tate bristled very slightly, making his wolf whine in reflected agitation. “I am one hundred percent committed to my pack. You know that as well as anyone.” He kept his tone neutral.
“You're also very committed to your other career, Tate,” his brother shot back. His voice was understanding, but firm. “Caleb enjoys being a fighter, but it's always been for fun. He always made it clear that he would drop that part of his life in an instant if it came down to a necessary choice. What I know better than most, except probably our parents with their alarming ability to apparently read our minds”—despite himself, Tate laughed in agreement—“is how much you love what you do. How much it defines you. And I'd bet these new clients you just worked with loved you so much they wanted to hire you to continue working with them, right?”
Tate let his silence answer. Another few beats went by before Rafe continued. “We're facing an unprecedented threat at the moment. Just like Alpha said at the meeting the other night.”
Tate nodded even though his brother couldn't see him. The pack meeting a few nights back had revolved around reviewing the current pack safety measures and stressing the fact that even though no rogues had been spotted in the area for months now, there'd been reports of increased violent activity stemming from the Upper North Woods Pack in Canada, which was spiraling down throughout the Western U.S. as well. In a private meeting with only the Pack Guardians after the main meeting, Alpha had let them know there was also a very disturbing pattern of those activities meshing with reports of rogue activity throughout the entire country. There was no question the rogues were not all really rogues, but somehow working in tandem with a dysfunctional pack bent on exerting more power over all shifters.
“Getting our new pack up and running is essential for the safety of all wolves in the Western region right now,” Rafe said. “Just as it is with Luke's new pack here.”
“Yeah. I still wish him good luck with that,” Tate returned. Until recently, Luke Rawlins had been a runaway rogue originally from the Upper North Woods Pack. His entry into the Black Mesa Pack had been filled with drama underscored by his own edgy, angry presence. Even so, everyone had to admit the man carried the natural leadership tendencies of a born alpha. The decision of the Black Mesa Alpha to make Luke the alpha of his own affiliate pack, to be located very nearby, was a masterful move, but one still greeted with concern by some pack members. Trying to run a pack on his own was going to be an uphill battle from the very start for the former rogue wolf.
Very quietly, Rafe said, “Luke is committed. Of that I'm certain. But what about you?”
Tate stopped completely, ignoring a muttered comment as a few guys dodged around him. Taking a deep breath, he moved to the side of the building. His usually laid-back attitude took a dive into sudden defensiveness. “I'm a member of our Pack and I always will be,” he said. His wolf paced in his mind, confusion and doubt pulsing from every ruffed-out tip of his pelt. “What exactly do you want to know, Rafe?” Tension made his words short.
A long beat on the other end. Tate let the sounds of the street wash over him, uncharacteristically struggling to maintain his composure. He wasn't even certain what had triggered him to feel so attacked. Rafe knew how much his horse training business meant to him, and his question was valid.
It just felt really damn personal, and that suddenly chafed him.
Finally, Rafe said, “I want to know you'll choose defending your pack with every bit of your strength and life after I leave and take Caleb with me. I want to know your loyalties lie with our native pack, even though I know at heart, you're not truly a Guardian.”
Tate felt like someone had punched him in the gut. Reeling, he put a hand on the brick wall to steady himself. His wolf half-growled, half-whined, the sound burbling up in Tate's throat until he was afraid he'd actually growl out loud.
Before he could respond, Rafe said, “I'm sorry to have to be so blunt, but it's a fair question. You don't have to answer me right now. We'll talk when you're home.” There was another short pause before he softly added, “Tate, you actually were my first choice to come with us. But your natural ability to smooth over tense situations is needed by the Black Mesa Pack more right now. And Caleb's tremendous strength as a fighter will be needed by my new pack more. However. I just wanted you to know I value you just as much for either pack.” Quietly, he disconnected the call.
Tate stayed by the wall for a few more moments, collecting himself. His thoughts whirled with the sudden overload of information. Equally conflicted, his wolf paced his mind, fur still ruffed up. Tate finally sighed and pushed it all away for the moment. He didn't usually get upset at much. Just the feeling of it was unusual enough to bother him. His wolf pressed up against his mind now, trying to offer comfort. Taking a deep breath, then another, he blew out hard to dispel the aggravation. He'd worry about it tomorrow. Time to move on for now.
With a shake of his head, he looked up the busy sidewalk. Just steps ahead, he saw the bookstore's awning and well-lit display of books in its expansive front windows. It was a much bigger place than he'd thought, although it was an independent store rather than a chain. They must be doing better than dire news reports about the demise of bookstores everywhere would have him believe.
Pushing open the door, he entered, boots smacking the wooden floor. Hmm. Bit loud. He mellowed his steps and took a look around the shop, wondering what the heck to get his ridiculously well-read mother for her birthday. Focused and somewhat overwhelmed by the aisles of bookshelves lining the store with thousands of pages of words, he distractedly filtered out the scents of wood, furniture polish, paper pulp, and the faint remnants of ink on the pages.
Two strides later, everything changed in the blink of an eye.
Her scent hit him so hard he almost staggered. The unknown female wolf. A light skiff of snow, bright cedar, and the promise of something feral and free all crowded his senses at once. He lost all recognition of any other scents but hers, all thoughts of anything else, as he snapped his head up to look.
She's here, right here, he thought, even though he still didn't know who she was. All he knew was that he had to get to her, now.
Where? his wolf demanded, instantly leaping to the front of his mind and peering out Tate's eyes, scenting through Tate's nose. Where is she?
Tate's mind still boggled. His beautiful, enticing mystery wolf was here, in Denver. He took another quiet step forward before he realized that while the bookstore was hushed as bookstores tended to be, there was a speaking voice at one end that seemed to be holding space. His sharp nose followed the sweet tang of her scent in that direction. Forcing his wolf back again, he took another step toward the back of the store.
“Did you come for the reading?” A bookseller behind a long sales counter pitched her voice low as he passed by. As he looked over at her, she motioned toward the back of the store. “She's started already, but you should be able to slip right in. I think there might
even be a chair left.”
“Uh-huh,” Tate said. He felt dazed. His wolf prowled through his mind so restlessly he thought he might burst out of his own skin. “Thank you.”
The bookseller smiled, her glance lingering on him with slight puzzlement as he touched his fingers to his hat and started to make his way down the aisles. He needed to avoid close up eye contact with people, because his wolf must be staring out very hard though him right now, making his eyes begin to glow.
The scent of the unknown wolf pulled at him, tugging him forward while it teased and whispered through his mind. Her scent mixed with his, almost stroking him with its intense beauty and indefinable importance. Images slammed through his mind: smooth, naked skin sliding against his. The whiff of pure snow tinged with sweet, fresh citrus covering him. That indescribably wild desire, mixed between running and mating, restless freedom with tangled sweatiness, suffused him again. He almost gasped from the sudden, sheer intensity of his reaction.
His very aroused reaction. The other day it had been the shock of recognition. Today, it was a much more primal response. One of a physical longing so sharp it almost hurt.
She is here, his wolf said again. Mate. The words sounded so softly in Tate's mind, so carefully. Afraid of frightening her away. Of spooking her like a skittish horse. Right. Slow approach. Don't frighten her again.
The voice, female, got slightly louder as he neared the back of the store. A small crowd of people filled chairs facing a small podium. The woman at the podium was reading into a microphone from a book. Her rich voice carried through the listeners, reaching Tate and doing something very strange to his whole system. He felt hot, then shaky, then electrified. His wolf danced in his head.
Heart suddenly thudding out of whack, he pinpointed on the female wolf. Thick, long blonde hair so light it almost seemed silvery white, an instantly captivating face filled with deliberation, one graceful yet determined hand that gestured every now and then to punctuate her words. She commanded the area with a presence both assured and wary at the same time.