Layla wrung her hands even more. How was she supposed to dance around this one? Not all werewolves could tell you were lying, but with her rapidly increasing heart rate, there would be very little doubt she was.
“Layla?”
“Unsanctioned,” she replied softly. She let out a breath through her mouth and smoothed her hands over her knees. Honestly, she was stunned that there was even such a thing as sanctioned and unsanctioned turnings of humans into werewolves.
She’d once had a viral infection when she was a kid that had knocked her on her ass for a good two days, but that had nothing on the first shift that followed three days of full-body aches, seizures, vomiting, and sensitivity to light and smells.
She snapped from her thoughts when Riley began to growl softly, and instinctively she dropped her head but tilted it a little to the side to offer him her throat. The human part of her hated this reaction. The wolf part of her—which was strongest most of the time—was giving the more dominant wolf the reassurance that she wasn’t going to cause any trouble.
“I’m not angry with you,” he said, his voice low and gravely. “I’m angry that you weren’t given a choice. How did you get involved with a pack in the first place? You’re in a relationship with one of them? The one whose car this belongs to?” He jabbed his thumb behind them.
“No.” She winced. “Not then, I wasn’t.”
His growling stopped. “How, then? Werewolves are still believed to be myths. How did you get tangled up with one?”
Layla smoothed her fingers over the knees of her jeans once more. The truth was she hadn’t had any association with a pack before becoming a member herself. Her attack had been brutal, but she’d survived through sheer will and dogged determination.
“I’d rather not say,” she replied, peering at him from the corner of her eye. “I’m sorry.”
He waved his hand through the air, dismissing her words, then gripped the steering wheel even more tightly. She thought he muttered something about protecting females better, but she could’ve been wrong.
When they arrived back at the garage, she was both eager and hesitant to get out of the truck. It was warm in there, and the thought of going back to shivering wasn’t all that appealing. Plus, she had a feeling she already knew what he was going to say about Ben’s car.
It was Thanksgiving tomorrow.
Everything would be shut for the next few days, meaning Mitchell had time on his side.
There was no doubt in her mind that as soon as the alpha found out she was gone, he’d try to bring her home again.
It was too bad for him as she had no intention of returning to Maine ever again.
Chapter Three
Riley turned off the truck and let out a sigh. Rain was still pounding against the glass. They were both going to get soaked again. He didn’t mind so much about him—he had a change of clothes in the office—but seeing Layla shivering pricked all his male instincts to keep the female safe, warm, and cared for. He blamed it on his upbringing and the werewolf culture in general.
“Are you ready to make a run for it?”
Layla had been looking out the passenger window, her anxiety perfuming the air with its pervasive fragrance. At least she stopped wringing her hands together. He’d watched Casey do that a lot after her imprisonment, and he connected the action with fear so deep it was debilitating.
“I think so?”
“I’ll get you inside the office where it’s warm first, then unload your car and push it inside to take a look. Do you have a bag in the car? Some clothes you can change into?” The jeans and chunky sweater she was wearing were doing nothing more than keeping the moisture in and sucking the heat out of her body.
“Yes, it’s in the back seat.”
He nodded. “I’ll grab that, too. We go on three, okay?”
She popped open the door before he could start counting and climbed out, running over to the door at the front of the shop. The little awning overhead protected her from the worst of the rain, but given it was now coming in horizontally, it wouldn’t protect her for much longer. He got out of the car and let her into the garage. Showing Layla into the office, he pointed to the bathroom in the back and said she could get changed in there once he’d retrieved her bag.
By the time he got the Jetta off the back of the truck and into the garage, he was soaked to the bone again. Thank God for werewolf heat was all he could say. He opened the door and pulled out her bag, clamping down the growl that bubbled up his throat when he smelled another male in there. Why was he being such a pussy about this? He knew it was her boyfriend’s car.
He found her standing in the exact same spot as before, her arms folded protectively over her chest, her face an unreadable mask. She clearly wasn’t willing to talk about where she came from yet, but he’d get to the bottom of this eventually.
“Here,” he said, handing her the pink duffel bag. He didn’t peg her for a pink kind of female, but what the fuck did he know about women other than how to make them come multiple times? He grazed his eyes over her body, wondering briefly where her erogenous zones were but quickly rescued his normally-scheduled thoughts when she gave him a small, innocent smile.
“Thank you.”
He cleared his throat. Rubbed a hand through his dripping hair. “Yeah. No problem. I won’t be long. So go… get changed, then I can take you to see the Alfheim alpha.”
She froze mid-step but didn’t turn around. “The alpha?” she whispered, tendrils of her fear licking at his senses. His wolf growled, chastising him for making her afraid.
“I have to take you to see him,” he said just as softly. “Pack rules.”
She shivered as if steeling herself, then peered over her shoulder at him. Her normally green eyes had turned gold. “Fine,” she said, then stalked over to the bathroom and locked herself inside.
Damn, her wolf was sexy. A lot more dominant than the woman too, it seemed.
With a shrug, he left her to get changed, confident she wasn’t going to steal shit from his office while he worked on her car. He popped the door on the Jetta and slumped into the driver’s seat, then reached under the dash to find the hood release. The smell of the other male was everywhere, and it was putting his wolf on edge.
“Simmer down, you bastard,” he said. “She’s not ours.”
He found the catch and released the hood with a dull thunk. Glancing around the car, he popped open the glove compartment to see what was inside. No, he wasn’t in the habit of snooping, but he was very curious about Layla. He shifted some napkins out of the way and found the registration papers for the car.
“Ben Smith,” he read out loud. That had to be a fake name. It wasn’t unheard of for werewolves to change their names every half a century. Not aging made people look a little harder at them. “Patten, Maine.”
He tried to think who the alpha was out in Maine, and there was only one pack that had formed that far north—the Rogue Wolves. Not the most original name for a wolf pack, but from what he knew, it was mostly made up of wolves who hadn’t found a pack that worked for them.
He shook his head.
The hierarchy and system the werewolves lived under was a strange one. Each territory had an alpha, but there was no alpha to command the alphas. He guessed the closest thing they had was Rhett at the Helheim pack, and he only had that title because his mate, Indi, was the last half blood in existence.
Maybe it had been Rhett who’d given then okay for the Rogue Wolves to form a pack? Although given they were in Maine, maybe it had been Hunter who’d given the final okay. He made a point to ask his brother when he got home.
Placing the papers back into the glove box, he closed it, then got out. Riley took a peek under the hood and spotted the problem right away. It was an easy fix if he had the stock. Wandering into the stock room, he took a look around and came up with nothing. He’d either have to order the part or send her to Rich over at German Auto Repairs.
“What’s the damage?
”
He spun around to see Layla standing there in a pair of leggings that fit her slim calves and thighs like they were painted on and a deep sapphire tunic that hit her mid-thigh. Her blonde hair had been dried off and piled on top of her head in a messy kind of knot. Her green eyes were bright, and she looked a little better than she had.
“Radiator hose,” he said.
She twisted her hands nervously in front of her. “Can you fix it?”
He shook his head. “I have to order the part, which is fine, but it’ll take about a week.”
She frowned. “I don’t have a week, Riley.”
“Then I can give Rich a call on Tuesday to see if he has the part. He owns that German mechanic shop I told you about.”
Layla worried her bottom lip between her teeth, her gaze sliding away.
“Look, either way, you aren’t going anywhere right now. Let me take you out for dinner, then we can discuss our plan of attack.”
“No,” she replied. Tacking on a hasty, “Thank you. I need to go to the bus or train station. I need to keep moving.”
“There will only be skeleton services running on the train given that Thanksgiving is tomorrow. You might be able to get one out on Friday. Either way, you’re here for at least a couple of nights, which kind of works out well given you still need to go and speak to the alpha.”
“And I told you I don’t need to see him. I never intended to stop here. I was supposed to be clear of your alpha’s territory lines by late tonight.”
He shouldn’t have been amused or fucking turned on right now by arguing with her, but he couldn’t help it. He shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you, but I’m honor and duty-bound to bring you in now.”
“Why? Why do you serve your alpha so dutifully?” Her eyes were gold as she spoke, her wolf taking the reins of control. Very interesting. Was that some sort of survival instinct? Something that had been honed since her change?
“Because I’m an enforcer, and if I don’t bring you in, guess who’s in the firing line.”
She glared at him, and he grinned. He much preferred this version of her. Slowly, like snow melting away, the gold bled from her eyes. She blinked and looked away.
“You’re right,” she said. “I shouldn’t have thought I could get away with not speaking to him. Maybe he’ll be able to help me.”
“Right. Now that’s settled, I hope you like ribs because I’m starving.”
Chapter Four
Layla let out a breath, finally feeling like she had control over her wolf again. She’d wanted to come out and stand up for her, and finally, Layla had let her. At least she hadn’t gotten all furry. She glanced quickly at him from the corner of her eye to gauge his reaction to that, but he didn’t seem angry or irritated.
She had just slung her bag over her shoulder when Riley held out his hand, curling his fingers in the universal sign for gimme. She arched a brow.
“I’ll take your bag if you like?”
“I’m very capable of carrying my own bag.” She just wasn’t capable of escaping her deranged alpha. When he didn’t drop his hand, she huffed and handed it to him. He nodded, satisfied, and walked toward the roller door to retract it to its full height.
Following him, she braced herself for stepping back into the rain but hesitated when he turned back around and grinned at her.
“This way,” he told her, walking further into the garage. That’s when she saw a Camry parked there.
“Is this your car?”
He pressed the fob in his hand, the lights flaring to life. “Yeah. Come on.”
Anxiety tightened her stomach. Being close to him made her incredibly nervous, and she wasn’t sure whether it was her usual wariness of males of the species or whether it was something more—something she had never experienced before. Exhaling sharply, she counted to three in her head and followed.
Like before in the tow truck, Riley drove with a confidence that put her at ease. It turned out the restaurant wasn’t that far from the garage—it also wasn’t a restaurant, only a bar. The neon sign above the door flickered in all its blue glory, shouting to the world this was Chuck’s. Riley pulled into the lot and parked as close to the door and small awning as he could get. The rain still hadn’t let up, so Layla hesitated when she lifted her hand to the door to get out.
“Stay there,” he all but growled, producing an umbrella from somewhere beside his seat. He popped open his door and shook out the umbrella. He was at the passenger side a moment later. She got out and stood closely beside Riley on account of the rain pelting from all sides. The heat from his body was addicting, and she leaned in a little to absorb some more of it. He rested his hand on the small of her back as he guided her toward the front door. She pushed inside, expecting to be hit with noise and smells and an overwhelming need to turn right back around, but the atmosphere was cozy. The lights were dim and the music low. There was even a stage at the back of the bar, but it was empty.
“There are my friends,” he told her, moving his hand a little higher on her back. With a return of her anxiety, they walked to the small round table where the two men she’d met in the garage were sitting.
“Hey, guys.” Riley clapped each of them on the shoulder and took a seat.
“Did you get the car towed okay?”
“Yeah.” Riley looked up at the bar and held up two fingers. “Radiator hose. We don’t have the part, but I’ll call Rich on Friday to see if he’s there. If not, it won’t be until Tuesday at this rate.”
As they fell into easy conversation, Layla wrung her hands together. She knew she had to sit down. She’d look stupid just standing there, but she hesitated.
“Damn. That’s too bad. Were you going to see your family for Thanksgiving?”
Her head jerked up at the question, her gaze bouncing between Tom’s face and Riley’s. “Ah… no… I mean, yes. My family.” She sat down beside Riley, letting out a deep breath.
“I’m sorry you won’t make it,” Sam told her, twisting his beer bottle on the cardboard coaster.
Praying her words came out strong, she said, “It is what it is. At least I wasn’t in the middle of the desert when it happened.”
“Hey, Riley,” said the perky waitress who arrived at their table. Balanced on her palm was a tray with two beer bottles. She placed them on the table, then lingered afterward. Layla noted she was staring at Riley like she wanted to lick him.
“Did you want to grab a late dinner tonight?” the waitress asked.
Layla could smell her desperation, which meant so could Riley.
He rubbed his hand over the back of his head, stalling. “I’d love to Becky, but I’ve got some things to do tonight… family things.”
Becky bobbed her head. “Of course.” She gave a high, shrill laugh. “Stupid me. It’s Thanksgiving tomorrow.”
He smiled tentatively and took a sip of beer. “Sorry. It was fun last time.”
Now all Layla could smell was lust.
Bolstered by Riley’s words, Becky stuck her chest out a little and smiled. “Well, you have my number. Call any time.” And with that rather forward declaration, she sauntered back to the bar. When Layla turned around, she found Sam and Tom gaping at him.
“You’ve tapped that?” Tom asked, shooting an apologetic look in Layla’s direction. She waved his concern away with a smile. Men were men, no matter the species, it seemed.
Riley didn’t say anything for a moment, and she realized it was because he was looking at her. She stared right back, cocking her head to the side in question.
He shook his head and said to Tom, “We’ve been out a couple of times.”
Sam laughed. “And knowing you, you were so good to her that she’s come begging for more.”
“She’s actually really nice. I know a lot of people think she’s an airhead, but she’s kind and sweet.”
Tom snorted. “I never thought I’d hear the day you said words like that.”
Riley drained half his bee
r and settled the bottle back on the table. Layla copied him, enjoying the malty flavor on her tongue. It had been a while since she’d been relaxed enough to have a drink.
“Is anyone else hungry? I’m getting ribs,” Riley said, standing up before anyone could tell him whether they wanted some or not. She stared after him.
“Man, he’s acting a little cagey tonight,” Tom said to nobody in particular.
She turned back around in her seat. “Cagey? How?”
“Riley is what we like to call…” Sam replied, gesturing between him and Tom, “… the luckiest bastard in town.”
“Oh? In what way?”
“What my friend here means to say is that Riley usually has a new girl every week. I just had no idea Becky was one of them.”
Layla had a sudden jolt of jealousy streak through her. She didn’t think it was hers, though. Nope, that little case of envy came from her wolf, who was hunkered down in the corner of her mind, growling softly.
“Lucky girl,” she murmured softly.
* * *
After dinner was done and their beers were finished, Riley settled the bill and said goodbye to his friends.
“It was very nice to meet you,” she told Tom and Sam, meaning it perhaps for the first time ever. If anything, the last four years of her life had taught her that not everyone could be trusted. It was a very lonely existence.
As they pushed open the door to the bar, Riley placed his hand on the small of her back once more, guiding her out into the fine drizzle of rain. He went to put up the umbrella, but she shook her head, then lifted her face to the sky, smiling at the way the rain caressed her skin.
When she looked back at Riley, his eyes were violet—his wolf. In response, her own wolf surfaced for a brief moment. The two of them stared at each other for a full minute, each getting their fill before retreating into the background.
The Helheim Wolf Pack Novellas: The Complete Collection Page 9