by Eve Langlais
Forever. The word never used to scare her. It had always been such an intangible notion before she’d known better. Now the prospect of forever chilled her blood. It filled her with such despair that some days she didn’t know how she managed to drag herself out of bed. Forever wasn’t a blessing. It was a curse. One she was desperate to free herself from.
Of course, the chances of that happening were about as good as the chances she’d sprout a tail by the end of the day. Nonexistent.
“Honey, can I interrupt your daydreaming over there to get another cup of coffee?”
Ellie snapped to attention and jerked upright. The men at the table chuckled, each of them taking a turn to tease her for being a total space cadet. They meant well and all of them were harmless. Ellie forced a customer-service smile to her face and grabbed the carafe from the coffeemaker. It wasn’t their fault she lived in purgatory.
“Sorry, guys.” Ellie topped off each one of their cups with fresh coffee. “Your breakfasts should be up in a second.”
“Good thing,” Tom groused. “Frank’s almost got that cinnamon roll put away.”
The group shifted their sarcastic comments back to Frank, and Ellie used the opportunity to duck into the kitchen. John was busy plating everyone’s breakfasts and she slipped into the pantry to take a few deep, cleansing breaths. Anxiety always got the better of her when she let her mind dwell on her situation and the adrenaline that pooled in her limbs created a fight-or-flight reaction that needed to be burned out of her system. There was no one to fight and certainly nowhere to run. Ellie was stuck here.
Literally.
For eternity.
* * *
“Yes!”
Colin Courtney pushed out his desk chair and pumped his fist. Since relocating to Stanley, Idaho, with his pack several months ago, he’d been trying to become a sentry—the supernatural world’s equivalent of special forces law enforcement—with the governing body of the Sawtooth Mountains Territory, and finally he’d been accepted to join their ranks.
The supernatural world didn’t subscribe to human laws. They were apart, separate, and as such, they had their own systems of government and law enforcement. Throughout the world, territories were marked off and policed by sentries assigned to each region. The Sawtooth Mountains Territory wasn’t the largest in the Northwest, but it was quickly growing. Colin’s pack relocating here had seemed to set off some sort of supernatural population explosion. The SMT wanted to boost the number of sentries stationed here in preparation for potential threats and issues that might crop up as a result. Since moving to Stanley, Colin had found himself with way too much spare time on his hands. Becoming a sentry was exactly what he needed to occupy his time.
His only obstacle in accepting the position was his alpha, Liam. Their leader had been a high-ranking sentry once. Before they’d come to Idaho. And his experience with the supernatural organization hadn’t exactly been a positive one. His tenure had left a bad taste in Liam’s mouth and he’d forbidden any other members of the pack from taking up with them.
Liam might have been alpha, but Colin wasn’t about to let him dictate his life. Especially since he’d sacrificed his own happiness to pack up and come to this gods-forsaken territory in the middle of fucking nowhere. Pack came first. Always. The only thing that trumped the pack was a mate bond. And in this isolated corner of the world, his chances of finding his true mate were less than slim.
“What are you celebrating?” asked Colin’s brother, Owen, as he strode through the door with a wide grin on his face. “I could hear you shout all the way from the main house.”
Colin closed the lid on his laptop and crossed the ten feet from his desk to his living room. The pack’s living situation always made privacy a bit of an issue. But even without the pack dynamic, Owen would have walked in like he owned the place.
The pack lived on a few hundred acres of land nestled against the Sawtooth National Forest and Bench Lakes Trailhead. Liam lived in the main house a quarter mile away, while the rest of the pack lived in tiny cabins. It wasn’t a bad deal, really. Colin’s cabin was perfect for him and sat at the periphery of the row of other cabins. Stanley was a nice little town and the country surrounding it was breathtakingly gorgeous. Being so far from the city—any city—didn’t bother him too much. That’s what Amazon was for. What stuck in his craw were the endless days of boredom that stretched out before him. Colin was itching for an adventure, and so far he’d yet to find one.
“I beat Dark Souls.” Colin wasn’t about to tell anyone—including his brother—about the sentry position. At least not yet. “That end boss was a tough motherfucker.”
Owen glanced over at the dark TV screen and the PlayStation beside it. He didn’t need physical evidence to know Colin fed him a load of crap. Werewolves could smell a lie from a mile away. Owen’s brows shot up and his jaw squared, but he didn’t press Colin on the matter. Thank the gods.
“Deer season opens next week.” They were predators, after all. Hunting, whether in their human or wolf forms, sort of came with the territory. “I’m making a trip into Boise tomorrow to grab some ammo and supplies. Want to come?”
Any other day, Colin would have jumped at the chance to get out of Stanley for a couple of days. But the director of the Sawtooth Mountains Territory wanted to meet with him tomorrow in Garden Valley. No way was he missing that appointment.
“Nah. Go ahead. I think I’ll scout instead. Find a few good game trails before next week so we know where to start looking.”
He was headed to Garden Valley, but Colin could totally do some scouting on the way home. Which made the excuse he’d given Owen truthful enough to cover his tracks. Supernatural creatures could find ways to circumvent deception being sniffed out when they needed to.
“Okay.…” Colin might have covered his tracks, but Owen was obviously still a little skeptical. “I’ve never known you to pass up a trip to the city in favor of a hike, though.”
Colin shrugged a shoulder. “Maybe I’m just getting used to living out here.”
“Suit yourself.” Owen headed for the door. “Want me to pick you up anything while I’m in town?”
It was Owen who’d settled comfortably into his role as a local. Referring to the city more than two hours away as “town” was about as local as you could get. “I’m good. I’ll text you if I think of anything.”
“All right. If you change your mind, let me know.”
Colin nodded. “Will do.”
The door closed behind Owen, and Colin let out a slow breath. He headed back to his desk and opened his laptop to look over the email. It would feel good to have a sense of purpose again. Not that his place in the pack wasn’t important, or even … enough. That wasn’t the point. Pack life could get complicated. Communal living had its drawbacks and complications. Tight-knit families like his had a tendency to squabble and get on one another’s nerves from the constant togetherness. Especially when the togetherness spanned centuries. Colin loved the members of his pack. Would die for each and every one of them. But he wanted something that was his. Something separate from the pack. Something he could take pride in and excel at. He could be an amazing sentry. He just needed the chance to prove himself.
Colin hit reply and fired off a quick email, thanking Wade Robinson, the SMT director, for the opportunity and confirming he’d be in Garden Valley tomorrow morning to meet him. He’d been worried about finding an excuse to be gone all day, but Owen had inadvertently given him the perfect alibi. It wasn’t like he needed a hall pass to leave the pack’s property or anything, but he didn’t want to have to answer any questions about where he was going and why no one else could come along. He’d of course come clean to Liam once he knew his position with the SMT was confirmed and solidified. But until then, he was keeping it a secret from his alpha.
CHAPTER 2
The week had gone by tediously slowly. Ellie couldn’t believe it, but she was actually glad Sunday had managed to roll back around,
bringing Frank, Tom, and the rest of the Liars Club back into the Sourdough to argue, drink coffee, and stir up trouble all morning. Of course, by lunchtime she’d be ready to get them out of her hair and send them back to their respective homes. It was pretty much their Sunday routine.
She checked the clock above the counter as she started the coffeemaker. Her Sunday regulars were nothing if not punctual, and if she didn’t have their table set and ready to go by eight on the dot she’d hear about it. T-minus ten minutes and counting …
Frank was the first one through the door, as usual. Ellie flashed a welcoming smile as he headed straight for their usual table.
“Morning, Frank!” she called. “Coffee’s ready and John says the cinnamon rolls have a few more minutes.”
Frank shucked his jacket and settled into his usual seat. Ellie poured him a cup of coffee and the other members of the group began to filter into the restaurant as she set the cup in front of him. The quiet of the empty restaurant was filled with the booming voices of the complaining old men as they shucked their jackets and followed Frank’s lead by settling themselves into the same chairs at the same table they’d occupied every Sunday for as long as Ellie had been working at the Sourdough, which was going on two years.
“Morning, gents!” Ellie called out.
She headed back to the counter, grabbed five more mugs, looping her thumb and fingers through the handles, and grabbed the coffeepot with her other hand. Since taking the waitressing job here, she’d become pretty adept at balancing plates and carrying more mugs/glasses/silverware at a time than her hands should logically have been able to handle. She headed back to the table, set the mugs down one by one, and filled each with coffee. Mike Pedersen cleared his throat and Ellie knew what he was going to ask before he even got the opportunity.
“Sweet’N Low and cream is on the way, Mike.”
He grinned as he turned his cup so the handle pointed to the left. “I probably oughtta be worried you know me so well, Ellie.”
She laughed. As regimented as these guys were, they weren’t too tough to get a bead on. “A good server always knows her customers. How else am I going to get you to give me a decent tip?”
The bell above the door chimed. A short partition separated the tiny general store section of the building from the restaurant, preventing her from seeing the customer who’d just walked in. Ellie topped off the last cup of coffee at the table and returned the carafe to the coffeemaker before heading toward the front of the building to help the customer who currently wandered around in the store.
“Good morning.” Ellie smiled at the woman standing near the cash register.
“Hi. My husband is trying to fill our tire with air and your compressor doesn’t seem to want to turn on.”
Crap. The problem with working at a place that was essentially your last stop for groceries, food, and fuel for the next fifty-plus miles was that Ellie sometimes forgot to check everything off her list of morning tasks.
“Sorry about that.” She grabbed a key from next to the cash register. “I just need to turn the compressor on. We turn it off at night.” She rounded the counter and headed for the door. “John!” she called toward the kitchen. “I need to run outside for a sec! I’ll be right back!”
A pickup pulled into the parking lot as Ellie followed the woman out toward the gas pumps where the air compressor was located. She glanced at the truck and the man inside before turning her attention back to the woman in front of her. This Sunday was turning out to be busier than most. Ellie hoped the pace would build momentum and the day would fly by.
Ellie quickly unlocked the power box for the air compressor and turned it on. She said a quick good-bye to the woman and offered a wave to her husband, who bent to fill their tire with air as Ellie headed back into the building. No doubt Frank would be champing at the bit for his cinnamon roll. The others would be more than ready to order their breakfasts as well. Disruption of the Sunday routine was never well received.
As she headed back into the restaurant, Ellie noticed the man who’d pulled up in the pickup seated at the counter, his back turned to her and bent over a plate. She glanced at Frank, who looked absolutely appalled. Oh boy. She rounded the counter just in time to see the guy hunkered over the platter-sized cinnamon roll, fork in hand, prepared to dig into the soft, warm cream cheese–coated goodness.
“Stop!” Without thinking, Ellie reached out and snatched the plate away. The guy’s fork bit into the Formica countertop with enough force to chip it. She spun toward the kitchen and showed the plate to John as though he hadn’t just served the cinnamon roll to the guy at the counter. “This is Frank’s cinnamon roll!” Ellie didn’t know why it bothered her so much. “You know he gets the first one out of the pan!”
“Relax, Ellie.” John looked at her like she’d lost her mind. “I’ve got twelve more cinnamon rolls. Number two is going to be just as good as number one.” He slid a plate with another roll covered in extra icing her way. “Now give that poor guy back his breakfast.”
John was the boss. The Sourdough was his and he could serve whoever he wanted, whatever he wanted. That didn’t mean she had to be happy about it. With a huff of breath, she turned and slapped the plate back down in front of the cinnamon roll usurper before retrieving the second plate and stomping toward the Liars Club’s table.
“I’m so sorry, Frank.” As apologetic as Ellie felt, John might as well have just given away Frank’s firstborn. “I had to run outside to turn on the compressor.”
Frank’s gentle smile and confused expression made Ellie feel even more like she was making a mountain out of a molehill. “Don’t you worry about it,” he said. “John’s right. I shouldn’t get bent out of shape about it and neither should you. I mostly just like to tease you about it. This one’s going to taste just as good as the first one out of the pan.”
Ellie set the plate down in front of him with a sheepish smile. She brushed off the tension that pulled her muscles taut as she retrieved a pen and her notepad from her apron pocket. “Okay, guys, what’ll it be?”
The sensation of eyes on her sent a shiver of not-unpleasant anticipation down her spine as she took down everyone’s orders by memory. What in the heck was wrong with her today? Either she was more hormonal than she’d thought or immortality had finally begun to take its toll. Somehow she didn’t think that PMS was to blame.
* * *
Colin stared at the woman who’d just tried to steal his breakfast before angrily slapping it back down in front of him. She huffed and puffed as she stomped across the restaurant to the table of old men who’d been arguing about the sad state of the local water district when he’d come in. His wolf surged to the forefront of his psyche—unusual since the full moon was still a couple of weeks off—excited and keyed up.
Mine.
The single word echoed not only in Colin’s mind but also throughout his skin, muscles, bones, and marrow. The very cells that constructed him. It was an instinctual urge he couldn’t ignore or deny. The animal part of him was in charge right now. He recognized his mate on sight and wasted no time in letting Colin know the truth of it.
Well, fuck.
Wasn’t it just his luck that his wolf would find them mated to a freaking psychopath? Colin’s wolf gave an excited yip in the back of his mind and he willed the animal to settle the hell down. Whereas the wolf’s first impression of the woman fervently apologizing for not serving the old guy at the table what was apparently a very specific cinnamon roll was a positive one, Colin could safely say his own first impression of her was less than glowing.
“Well, I hope you’re happy with yourself.”
The unreasonably angry woman in question rounded the counter and snatched the carafe of coffee from the warmer. She topped off Colin’s cup as she kept her narrowed gaze on his. A quiet moment passed, and if he hadn’t been so monumentally annoyed he would have acknowledged how striking she was. Dark mahogany hair, navy blue eyes with dark lashes, a pert, almo
st upturned nose with a splattering of charming tiny freckles. Her lips weren’t full, but they were expressive. Perpetually downturned. She wasn’t waif thin but curvy. Lush, with a womanly fullness that practically had Colin’s wolf howling his approval. But Colin ignored all those things, instead opting to hold on to his annoyance with her abrasive attitude.
“I am.” Colin shouldn’t have antagonized her, but he couldn’t help himself. He stabbed his fork into the gooey cinnamon roll and tore off a chunk, popping it in his mouth. He didn’t bother to swallow before he spoke. “This might be the most delicious cinnamon roll I’ve ever eaten.” He followed it up with a hearty swallow from his coffee and dug into the warm roll once again.
Every bite seemed to crank her temper up another notch. And subsequently made every bite more delectable. His wolf let out a warning growl in the recesses of his psyche, unhappy with the way Colin treated her. Well, too damned bad. Mate or not, he wasn’t about to let some woman he’d just met berate him for eating a damned cinnamon roll.
“It wasn’t yours,” she snapped. “That was Frank’s cinnamon roll.”
“Ellie!” The cook’s warning tone drew Colin’s attention. “It’s just a cinnamon roll. Frank’s okay with it, so get over it.”
Ellie.
The name had moxie, just like her. Colin had no idea why this cinnamon roll had her so riled up, but he could only imagine the storm she’d bring over something truly important.
“I didn’t see Frank’s name on it,” Colin replied, totally ignoring the cook’s attempt to calm Ellie down.
She opened her mouth to lay into Colin once again when the cook rang a bell at the service window and set several plates on the stainless-steel counter. “Orders up, Ellie.” His warning tone indicated he wanted the subject of the cinnamon roll closed for discussion.