This Weakness For You (Entangled Select Otherworld) (Taming the Pack)

by Wendy Sparrow

  This Weakness

  For You

  a Taming the Pack novel

  This Weakness

  For You

  a Taming the Pack novel

  Wendy Sparrow

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Discover the Taming the Pack series… Past My Defenses

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright © 2014 by Wendy Sparrow. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

  Entangled Publishing, LLC

  2614 South Timberline Road

  Suite 109

  Fort Collins, CO 80525

  Visit our website at www.entangledpublishing.com.

  Select is an imprint of Entangled Publishing, LLC.

  Edited by Lewis Pollak

  Cover design by Fiona Jayde

  ISBN 978-1-63375-136-1

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  First Edition November 2014

  To everyone who has ever asked for one more story.

  Chapter One

  “You were right,” Garret said, his voice flat.

  Jordan was torn between satisfaction and trepidation. He sat down on the couch in his study and stretched his legs toward the gas fire as he held the phone to his ear. “Go on.”

  Garret’s laugh was humorless. “You are something, little brother. You’ve always been like a dog with a bone.”

  Tightening his grip on the phone, he clenched his jaw against the words his brother wanted acknowledged: that Jordan was Lycan, so the dog metaphor was correct. The only Lycan among his siblings.

  “How did you know it’d be there?” Garret asked.

  He took a deep breath and exhaled. If only there’d been someone else he could ask to do this, but Garret had the right connections—or lack of connections. Only a two-footer in a Lycan family would be accepted onto the invitation-only site.

  It might have been better if they hadn’t turned out a single Lycan—but for the youngest to not only be a Lycan but an obvious lock for Alpha at his size… Well, hell, it was no wonder his siblings hated him. They were the poster children for why Lycans should only mate with Lycans, because his family history had been loose on that rule up until his own parents. This was the result: the Hill family.

  Kids, this is what not to do.

  “I just knew,” Jordan said finally.

  “Not good enough. If you’re dragging us into this hell you brought on yourself…”

  “By being Lycan? We’re talking about poachers, Garret. Don’t be a fool. The only thing we’ve done is exist.”

  Garret snorted. It didn’t help that Jordan was also the most successful in his family. He’d never asked for any of this. He could hear his brother shuffling things around on a desk. “Sure. And you’re a specific target because of…what? They think you’re weak and helpless?”

  Jordan swallowed. “Just me? They’re only looking for me?” This covert quest for vengeance couldn’t drag his pack in. Not now. Not when they were down to families. Because the truth was: this was his fault. And he’d known there’d be a day of reckoning for the deaths of two years ago and his part in them.

  “Well, I don’t know. Are there many large, black-pelted wolves in Washington State?”

  “That’s what they said?”

  “Yes. Black-pelted. Male. Large.”

  There weren’t many Lycans fitting that description. Most around here were dark or light brown. There were some smaller black-pelted Lycans—a few of them female. But there were only a few he’d classify as large and black-pelted. He was the most obvious choice. “Why are they looking for me? I mean what does it say?” Obviously they were looking for vengeance, same as him.

  “Oh, it’s careful…like you expected it to be. Looking for an old friend. Lost touch. Might be unwilling to meet due to circumstances of last meeting.”

  Jordan smiled. It wasn’t a real smile, but it was the only one he had these days. “Well, I can see why they’d think that—I ripped out their friend’s throat. But they’re wrong about me being unwilling to meet.”

  “Dammit, Jordan. Don’t bring this to our door.”

  He tightened his jaw, pressing his lips together. Once upon a time, the family had been close—back when they’d all assumed they’d be full Lycan pack members. “It’s at our door in the pack.” The wolf at the door was not a wolf at all.

  “And we’re not pack? Is that it?”

  Pinching the bridge of his nose, he fought another retort. They could be pack. Hell, their kids stood a good chance of being Lycans. It skipped generations. But he knew for a fact, Anthony hadn’t told his wife anything about this furry and fanged side of the family, and their oldest should hit puberty any day now. That might be a shock for his sister-in-law if his nephew Emmett went Teen Wolf on her.

  “So, we’re worth less because we’re not pack?” Garret went on.

  When did they get to be junior high girls sniping at each other? “Of course not.” It was like the old days when his mother had stopped him from roughhousing with his brothers because they weren’t as strong as him. He wasn’t to provoke them, either. He exhaled in a huff. “What do they want?”

  “It says there’s a reward if someone facilitates a meeting.”

  “Facilitate. That’s a nice word for it.” Drag him away from the pack and put him on the chopping block, more like.

  “Your pack is still too strong for them to come after you, isn’t it?” For the first time, he heard actual concern in his brother’s voice. If only their envy and Jordan’s pride hadn’t poisoned their relationships.

  “Yes.” It was his automatic answer. He’d been humbled by the last two years, but not that much. Glacier pack was still large. It was the largest in Washington State—though not one of the largest in the U.S. anymore, not since the Rainier pack had split off with Travis, his former acting Alpha. There was always safety in numbers, and Glacier pack still had that going for it. And he was their Alpha. His size and strength hadn’t changed. And he had little enough to distract him these days. “I just want this on my terms and to be prepared.”

  “So, you want me to watch this forum member?”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Bo Peep. It could be a woman. It might not even be what you’re thinking.”

  A sheep in wolf clothing—pretending to belong in the outskirts of the Lycan world. “Your instincts say it is.” Even if they hadn’t shifted, he’d trust his siblings’ instincts. That wasn’t exclusive to the Lycan side.

  “It is. Sometimes, casual looks…too casual. I can keep an eye on them. See if anyone interacts with them. I might even be able to find out what name they
used as entry to the site.”

  “No. You’ll come off looking suspicious. I don’t want any extra attention—otherwise I might have tried to get in myself.”

  “So, what do you want me to do then?”

  Jordan stared unseeingly at the fire. Up until two years ago, he’d felt…invincible. Like death couldn’t touch him. No one would dare attack a pack Glacier’s size…and then a poacher had moved on them—helped from within, and three Lycans had wound up dead. Now he no longer felt invincible, but that didn’t bother him as much as it once did.

  If he pursued this, what did he have to lose? What was he willing to risk?

  Nothing and everything.

  “Tell them you can arrange a meeting.”

  “What?” his brother’s voice rose in agitation. “You’re kidding.” There was a brush of air against the mouthpiece as his brother shook his head. “No. No way. That puts me at risk. And mom. And our family. And you.” At least he’d remembered to include Jordan—even if it was nearly an afterthought.

  “You’re only sending a message…online. You won’t be anywhere around here.”

  “Jordan, I haven’t exactly hidden my identity on this site. If these aren’t Lycans you’re dealing with…”

  “They aren’t.”

  “If they aren’t…they wouldn’t necessarily know that I’m not pack.”

  Sometimes, it felt like they talked in circles. “They’ll know. You wouldn’t be in that forum if you were pack.” He’d guessed there had to be somewhere one could contact a poacher. Someone had managed it two years ago. There had to be a place where disgruntled muttering was expected and not treated as fictional psychosis—where you could believe in Lycans and also reject them. The well-hidden, invite-only online forums for humans in Lycan families seemed a logical spot.

  “How did you know to look there?”

  He could change the subject, or not answer, but, for once, he’d acknowledge the ugly truth. “Because who else believes in Lycans, but hates them enough to turn them over to a death squad?” Those on the fringes of the pack who felt like outcasts when their genes betrayed them. He had sympathy for his siblings. There just wasn’t a hell of a lot he could do about it. He couldn’t make them Lycans, but he had managed to make them enemies by attempting to draw them into his world. The more he’d tried, the more they’d resented him. They had an uneasy truce by pretending, for the most part, that Jordan wasn’t Lycan or the Alpha of a pack.

  Silence. Though his brother’s breathing picked up. “You know that’s not true.”

  He sighed. “Arrange the meeting.”

  “I’ll think about it and get back with you.”

  He looked at the clock. “I’ll be in the hospital for a bit, and I’ll probably have to turn my phone off.”

  “The hospital?”

  “Maternity ward. Vanessa had a baby.”

  “She’s the blonde with the great legs?”

  Jordan smirked. Garret had come to one pack meeting three years ago, but he remembered that. “I wouldn’t know.” Yes. She had great legs. Not that he cared. “She’s mated and married.”

  “Liam?”

  “No. A human. A park ranger.”

  “She married a human?”

  “Didn’t know you’d had your chance, huh?”

  Garret was currently divorced…for the second time. “You must approve of him…since you didn’t kill him.”

  For an instant, there was a flash of what might feel like, to a lesser man, shame and embarrassment, but Jordan ignored it. “Actually, I tried. Twice.”

  His brother laughed. Garret had always focused on the more morbid aspects of pack life as if to prove to himself he wasn’t missing much, so it was hard to say whether he believed Jordan had tried to kill Dane.

  “Arrange the meeting.”

  “I’ll think about it,” Garret repeated.

  “And this stays between us. Tell no one.”

  “Who would I tell?” There was anger there—in the quickening of his breath, in the pitch of his voice. One last reminder that he recognized he wasn’t pack and therefore was on the outside.

  Jordan moved to hang up and the line crackled and buzzed for a second. “Damn phone.” He slammed it down.

  It was done. Garret would bait a trap, and they’d see if it was a wolf trap or a man trap. He dragged both hands down his face as he dropped back against the couch. He deserved whatever came to him. If he wound up a black pelt on a poacher’s wall, so be it, but they weren’t taking this wolf down without a fight. A fight he couldn’t wait to start.

  It was done. And it was about damn time.

  …

  Christa followed the sound of arguing. Even in the hospital, within hours of their child’s birth, they’d be arguing. At least here, it wouldn’t be followed by them disappearing for an hour into a closet. She hoped.

  “I’m just saying, if his middle name is Reno, there’ll be questions about why,” Vanessa said.

  “It’s where we spent our honeymoon,” Dane said.

  “You don’t name kids after places you had sex.”

  Dane laughed. “Well, no, because we’d just call him Nathanial Everywhere Hansen and be done with it.”

  “Christa, come in and tell your brother that Nathanial Dane Hansen is a good name,” Vanessa called from inside the room.

  It was creepy how good her hearing was—it was like supernaturally good. Since they knew she was here, she came in, dragging her balloons with her. “Hey, congratulations, guys. I brought balloons…just in case Vanessa was allergic. Wait, are you allergic to balloons?”

  Vanessa rolled her eyes. “I’m not allergic to everything.”

  Dane laughed. “But as it happens, those are latex balloons, so, yes.”

  “Had to say something…” Vanessa glared at Dane. “It’s not like I was going to lick them.”

  “That’s not what they say in Reno.” This seemed to be their bizarre version of “that’s what she said” and, sometimes, she wondered…and then she wanted to bleach her brain because this was her brother. Her. Brother.

  Vanessa opened her mouth to snark at Dane. Okay, time to head this off before there was an argument…and the disappearing thing.

  Christa pulled down the Mylar balloon in the middle. “Though really, I just bought this for Dane because I thought it was funny.”

  The silver balloon read, Oh my, he’s a big one!

  Dane raised his eyebrows and fought a smile.

  “You can think of that one as being from Vanessa, though.” It was too hilarious to pass up. She handed off the balloons to her brother and then leaned over the bed to look at her first little nephew. Judging from how frequently her brother and his wife disappeared, this round, chubby bundle was the first of many. Dane was even getting away with “dropping a litter” jokes with Vanessa, so clearly, there’d be more. Christa reached over and brushed a finger along her nephew’s cheek. He was snuggled down in Vanessa’s arms and had slept through their arguing—but he’d been prepared in the womb for that.

  “Do you want to hold him?” Vanessa asked.

  Christa winced. “Let me take a break first.” Her multiple sclerosis was in a take-no-prisoners sort of mood today. Dane frowned and rushed to her side to help her, but she shook him off with a frown. “I just need to sit down for a few minutes. I couldn’t get a close parking spot. I’ll be fine. I wouldn’t have driven if it was a problem.” She probably would have. Stubbornness was a Hansen family trait. It was practically in their genes.

  She dropped ungracefully into the seat and sighed. Her feet were tingling like she’d just run twenty miles on them. Her MS hadn’t responded to the recent stress with her roommate very well. This relapse might be a pain if she didn’t solve that problem soon. Dane had a super-concerned-older-brother look on his face.

  “So, tell me why my nephew is named Nathanial, and don’t give me that crap about Great-Uncle Nate, because my only memory of him is when I was like six, and he yelled at you to ea
t your damn peas.”

  Dane grinned. “I remember that, too…mostly because you asked if you could have my damn peas.”

  He wasn’t getting off that easy, but she did say with a shrug, “I like my peas.” Then she stared down Dane. Marriage seemed to have built up his resistance to her stare, because it took about twenty seconds for him to break.

  “Uhh, he’s named after a…friend of Vanessa’s.”

  “Speak of the devil,” Vanessa murmured, looking toward the door.

  Whoever this Nathanial guy was, he was preceded by balloons that he batted into the door with a grunt of irritation. Then he walked in…all six-foot-huge inches of him. Geez, she’d thought Dane was sturdy-looking. His face was hidden by the balloons that he handed over, but she’d seen dark black hair and deeply tanned skin that looked more like ancestry than sun-worshipping. “I figured balloons were the best idea. I nearly bought that ‘Oh my, he’s a big one!’ too, but figured Dane’s ego was already big enough for…” He stopped and inhaled. “Oh, hell, not again.” His fist at his side clenched tight. “There’s another female in this room. I heard someone else but…I never should have come in—I just never should have come in. This wasn’t supposed to be able to happen again.” He turned his back to her, so she still hadn’t seen his face. Well, so much for introducing herself to that giant. He inhaled deeply again and swore a few more times under his breath.

  She sucked in an angry breath…and then…nothing…the strangest feeling came over her. Oh, wow, mystery man smelled fantastic—whatever cologne he wore was…like magic. She wanted to attack him and rip all his clothes off. Hopefully he wasn’t married, or she’d feel guilty for even thinking about it. But, oh, whoa…he was so…whoa. Christa closed her eyes so she could stop drinking him in, but then they opened without her permission. This was a guy she had to meet. She just had to.

  “Yeah, there’s another female in the room,” Dane said, throwing a glance Christa’s way.

  The giant rubbed both hands down his face. “Uhh…what is she to you?”

  “Jordan?” Vanessa asked, sitting up. “Are you okay?”

  “What is she to you?” he asked Dane through clenched teeth. “She smells like a relative. Is she a relative?”