Winterstoke Wolves Collection : An MM Mpreg Shifter Romance Bundle

by Sasha Silsbury

  Cal doesn’t join in. He gets the distinct impression that complaining about the Winterstoke brothers is for Winterstokes only and if Cal were to criticize any of them, Jax would be a lot less friendly.

  He learns that neither of the Winterstoke parents are still alive, although he’s not sure why and doesn’t want to ask. He also finds out that Jax is the town doctor of all things, which Cal would not have put money on under any circumstances.

  There are very few omega doctors since it requires the omega to spend a large amount of time in medical school away from the immediate protection of the pack. Cal really wants to ask about how Jax managed it but doesn’t dare. Cal is a beta as far as Jax is concerned, and he intends to play the beta role perfectly, and show exactly zero interest in omega affairs.

  Adam runs the bakery in town and usually brings the unsold pastries back to the packhouse at the end of the day. The first thing Cal had eaten in Aylewood was one of Adam’s donuts. Gregor is a landscaper which explains why he always smells of fresh grass to Cal.

  Jax also spends quite a bit of his time attempting to set Cal up with Luke which Cal brushes off. Luke has shown absolutely no sign of being interested in Cal, and Cal suspects that matchmaking is a habit of Jax’s.

  All the same, Cal likes to play a little game in his head when Jax brings the subject up.

  In his fantasies, the suggestions are really coming from Luke and he’s sending his brother to test out whether Cal is interested.

  It’s a fantasy that often follows him home from the bookstore and ends with him lying on his bed at the top of the tower, dick in hand while he thinks about Luke finding out he’s an omega and bending him over the end of the bed.

  Mostly, Cal is alone in the store. From some quiet eavesdropping, Cal picks up that something is going on with the local packs: some kind of redrawing of territories or renegotiating of pack agreements that is keeping Luke away from his business. It explains why Luke was so antsy when Cal first came to town.

  The main unknown is Adam, and that’s the one who’s bothering Cal. The pack leader pays exactly no attention to Cal. It’s not normal for an alpha, even the rare introvert one, and that makes him nervous. Cal guesses it’s better than him showing excessive interest so it’s probably a blessing.

  He picks up a stack of catalogued donations and stacks them on the right shelves, then potters about, putting books back on shelves, taking in donations and ringing up purchases.

  It’s a uniquely pleasurable job. Most of the work Cal has done is manual and not customer-facing: picking fruit or washing dishes or digging up roads. Bookselling is also an unexpectedly people-pleasing one. None of the customers at the diners Cal has ever worked at were ever this happy to walk in and hang about in the place.

  Sure, you got the occasional kid over the moon about a milkshake or a couple coming in to celebrate an anniversary, but the bookstore is different.

  Almost every person who comes through the door is looking for something to enjoy just for them, and most of the time they find it. The few who aren’t looking for something for personal enjoyment are picking out gifts or purchasing textbooks so they can make their lives a bit better.

  Cal feels like he isn’t even selling books at all. It’s more like he’s selling little breaks from the people’s stresses and troubles, and it’s incredible.

  Maybe once he’s safe and done running, he’ll open his own bookstore. It’s a happy thought but it only lasts a second, before panic stabs at his belly again and a thin cold sliver of ice shoots up his spine.

  No.

  The moment you stop is the moment you get caught by some jerk alpha. Dad had tried to teach him that and he hadn’t listened. That lesson had been hard and truly learned now. No bookstore for Cal, only running.

  Maybe along the way, he’ll manage to work a few more hours in places like this but that’s as far as it can go.

  He’s safe enough here for now, but he has to keep moving.

  Maybe in a few years, Reed will slow the chase, but Cal knows his rage and the grudges he holds onto. Reed will stop at nothing to track him down, especially now while his fury is at its peak.

  Cal plans to stay another week, and then he’ll be on his way with a pocket of savings and some good memories.

  The store is quiet. The last customer has just left, and they’ve entered the post-breakfast but pre-lunch lull.

  Cal is standing behind the cash register wondering what to do next. He’s swept the floor, dusted the shelves and catalogued the last of the new books, and is wondering if it would be unprofessional to pick a novel from the shelves and read while he waits for the next customer to come in. He thinks Luke won’t mind but he’s not sure.

  Thinking of Luke, Cal will miss the night runs too when he leaves, maybe even more than the bookstore. Cal hasn’t played like that in years.

  If he’s honest with himself, he’s never played like that. Not really. The occasional chase and pounce with Dad as a cub doesn’t really count.

  More than anything, he is going to miss Luke’s scent. It hit him like a truck that first day, and ever since that, it has grown even worse. It’s the most arousing thing he’s ever known.

  Having the man right next to him in the cab of the truck each morning and evening is absolute torture. Just the way Luke’s hands grip the steering wheel makes Cal want to lick his lips and rub his face up and down those muscular arms, breathing the essence of Luke right into his lungs.

  He imagines Luke stopping the truck, or maybe taking a short detour into a quiet lane and turning off the engine. Then he’ll order Cal out of the car, and use those arms to bend him over the bonnet and tug his jeans down...

  Or maybe one evening, Cal will be reading quietly in his room and there’ll be a knock at the door, and there Luke will be, erection straining against his jeans. And Cal will get to his knees right there on the hardwood floor, unzip those faded blue jeans and take Luke’s cock in his mouth.

  Cal finds himself leaning closer against the counter, pressing his cock against the hard wood, imagining what it’ll feel like to have Luke’s hand grip him tightly while he presses into Cal from behind. He can’t remember the last time he’s been this horny. Not since...

  Oh hell.

  No.

  Oh no.

  He becomes aware of his own scent the same second the realization hits. He’s not giving off the bland beta scent that the blockers put out: it’s his own omega one. And not just an omega scent: an omega in heat scent.

  Every alpha in a mile-wide radius is going to know what he is.

  Cal’s vision blurs and the sound of his heart beating ridiculously fast fills his ears. He grips the edge of the counter with his hands and tries to calm himself.

  Think it though. Don’t panic like a dumb omega. Dad taught you better than that.

  It doesn’t help that his dick is still rock hard.

  He purses his lips and forces himself to breathe out slowly and carefully. In. Out. In. Out.

  Slowly, he brings his breathing under control, and his heart slows to a mere gallop. It must be the new blockers, he thinks. Anything purchased in an alleyway isn’t reliable.

  Cal forces himself to take stock of his body. Yes, he is still hard as a rock and he smells like omega in heat, but the scent is still mild. If he douses himself in nasty cheap deodorant, he might be able to hide it for a few hours. He hasn’t hit the peak yet.

  If he leaves right now and catches a bus to city, he might have enough time to get to one of the charities for homeless omegas. He’s been avoiding them up until now. Reed has eyes everywhere, but he no longer has much of a choice. They have secure areas for omegas to hide while they work out their heat.

  It’ll be a huge gamble, but he doesn’t have any other option. He has to get out of here. His backpack with the money he’s earned so far is at the packhouse. Cal looks at his watch. It’s ten past eleven. If he’s lucky, there’ll hardly be anyone there. He’s learned his lesson from last time. He’s
not running without his cash.

  Cal locks up the store in a hurry, then hides the keys behind the back door. He doesn’t have time for slow human legs to get him there in time, so he strips off his clothes, leaving them in a puddle in the snow by the door, then he shifts and runs.

  .

  LUKE

  lies and bad men

  The Foresters Inn is a bit too cutely decorated for Luke’s taste. There are a lot of pink plaid and china cats. Good for some, but it makes Luke feel a bit queasy, and the way that the conference room is overheated doesn’t help.

  They’re almost done with the pack agreements. It’s going smoothly so far and completely according to plan. That makes Luke nervous. All it means is that whatever is going to go wrong hasn’t happened yet.

  The Aylewood mountain range is divided into four pack territories: the Winterstokes who hold the Aylewood town, the Fosters who hold the lower east part of the mountain range and the larger town of Button Oak, the vast network of Warwick cousins and second cousins who mostly spend their time on their farms and only come into town for the mating runs, and the wild wolves who can’t be bothered with such human nonsense like last names because they know who they are.

  The leader of the wild wolves is speaking now. Isaiah is a grizzled old wolf wearing a pair of torn jeans and a crumpled shirt at least twenty years out of style. The clothes smell of damp and the cuffs of the jeans are green with mold.

  Luke’s father had once told him that the wild wolves had one set of clothes between them, and that they kept them buried in dry sand in a mountain cave, and they only brought them out every ten years when someone needed to walk among the humans. Luke thought that it was a joke at the time, but he’s no longer quite so sure.

  At least Isaiah knows how to use a phone and wears clothes. Isaiah is said to have three sons, all as big as he is, but twice as wild. Not one of them has ever come down out of the mountains. Isaiah’s an old man. Sooner or later, one of them is going to challenge him and then the Winterstokes are going to have a bigger problem than worrying about protecting the Foster pack from outsiders.

  Luke intends to worry about that when it happens. He has enough on his plate right now.

  Isaiah might not talk much in the mountains, so he makes up for it when he does come into town. His monologue has been going on for more than fifteen minutes.

  Luke nods when Isaiah catches his eye, so it looks like he’s paying attention although he isn’t. Not really. It’s all a variation of the same thing: I don’t care much what you human wolves do. You stay out of our territory.

  The trick to Isaiah is to let him speak as long as he likes, then he’ll happily leave his X on the agreements, and no one will see hide nor hair of him until the next summit.

  Luke turns his attention to Max Foster instead, trying to work out what the Foster pack sees in him. He’s good looking in the usual omega way: pretty eyes, long eyelashes, slender but muscled. He’s also a nice fellow from what Luke knows of him, but that’s it. He’s not a master tactician. He’s strong, but not alpha strong.

  He’d accepted Luke’s condolences on the death of his father with grace, and completely ignored Luke’s tactful questions about how he intended to protect the Foster pack.

  He’s a good man, but not a sensible one. The only reason anyone would vote for Max Foster pack leader is that he is simply incredibly likeable. That’s fine if they were voting for Prom King, but anything else is just plain dumb.

  Isaiah hasn’t looked at Max once since he arrived and ignored him completely when the Foster leader put out his hand earlier. Max just took it in his stride. Max catches Luke’s eye now, and winks ostentatiously. Luke looks away.

  Isaiah seems to be slowing down so Luke starts paying attention again.

  “Anything past the upper river is mine,” the old man growls. “You all keep out.”

  Luke nods and does his best to look serious.

  Another half hour and everyone has signed, and the summit is done. Isaiah leaves before the ink is even dry, but the others stay around for a while to chat and catch up. Another hour after that, and it’s only Luke, Adam and Gregor left in the conference room.

  There is little in pack law that will help Foster if someone in Aylewood region decides to challenge him, but if someone else does, the other packs are obliged to fight with the Fosters. Luke hopes they haven’t made a huge mistake, but if one local pack is weakened, so are the rest of them.

  The new accords sit in front of Luke on the table, signed and sealed by both packs. It had gone perfectly. There was no reason it shouldn’t have. The four packs have been allies for decades with nary a growl or challenge between them.

  Luke still feels uneasy, but he can’t quite put his finger on why. Maybe it’s not the Fosters at all. Maybe it’s Rowland.

  Everything is about Rowland right now. At a time when Luke should be prioritizing his pack, he’s been getting moon-eyed over some weird-smelling beta.

  The whole situation is ridiculous, especially because it’s clear that Rowland is definitely hiding something and Luke should be shaking that out of him, instead of getting all gooey about him. He’s never going to admit that though.

  Luke turns to Gregor. “Hey, did you ever hear anything back about the feelers you put out about Rowland?”

  Gregor burst out laughing. “You’re obsessed, dude.”

  Luke rolls his eyes, feeling his hackles rise “No, I’m not. I just need to know what his deal is.”

  “Gee, I wonder why?” Gregor puts in dryly.

  “Has Jax been talking to you?” Luke asks with a lot more irritation than he intends. His youngest brother has been relentless about Rowland. It was merely annoying at first, but he’s starting to get really fed up. He’s going to lose it if Gregor starts in with it too. “I told you. He doesn’t smell like a mate at all.”

  “Suuuure he doesn’t.” Gregor taps the side of his nose.

  Luke sighs. They’re not going to let this one go until Rowland either leaves town or Luke marries him. “Have you heard anything or not?”

  “I dunno. I haven’t checked my email,” Gregor replies.

  “Are you serious?” Luke says, feeling his blood rise. “Adam—”

  “Not interested,” Adam says, getting up from the table. “Sort it out between you,” he says as he’s walking away.

  Luke grimaces. Great, now all three of his brothers are being dicks. He can only deal with one at a time though. “Gregor—”

  “What? If there was anything urgent, I would have got a phone call. Hang on.” The big bearded alpha pulls out his cell and starts scrolling. He shakes his head, fingers still moving. “Nope. Nope. Nope. Ah, hang on. I’ve got a Rowland name pop up as a possible alias, but not a Paul. Give me a minute. There’s a picture. Oh shit.”

  Luke grabs the phone from Gregor’s hands. The picture is definitely Rowland, although that isn’t the name attached to it. Caleb Joel Sherwood.

  Even then, it isn’t the photo or Rowland’s real name that is the problem. It’s the criminal charges alongside.

  Luke’s hackles begin to rise, even as his phone rings in his pocket. Luke pulls out the phone and sees Elyse’s name on the screen.

  “What’s up?” he says.

  “Hey, you know how you wanted me to keep an eye on Paul Rowland?”

  Luke closes his eyes. This can’t be good.

  “Well, he just wolfed out and raced off in the direction of the packhouse like the devil himself was on his heels.”

  Luke thanks her, ends the call and swallows the urge to shout a big ‘I told you so’ at Gregor. He’ll have plenty of time for that later. Instead, he says, “We’ve got a problem.”

  LUKE

  lust and fury

  Luke can’t stop staring at the photo. It’s slightly blurred, but it’s definitely Rowland, or rather Caleb Sherwood.

  In the photo, Sherwood is standing with his back to a window that shows nothing but blue sky. The sunlight coming in behind him
gives his dark hair a halo.

  He’s standing stiffly, almost to attention, and staring flatly ahead. It’s that expression that Luke is struggling to comprehend. It feels to him as if Sherwood is containing some strong emotion that he refuses to let the photographer capture. What that emotion is, Luke can’t tell. It could be rage, sorrow, anger. Whatever it is, it’s a negative one.

  He’s not surprised that the man he knew as Paul Rowland has a shady past. The name was obviously fake, and Rowland was far too cagey with answers to his personal life.

  It’s the charges of embezzlement, fraud and extortion that don’t fit. But then Luke’s known the man all of a week. There are people out there who married serial killers and never guessed what they were up to.

  Luke has no idea why he’s in town, but Sherwood’s history makes it clear that it’s not likely to be for some innocent reason.

  Luke has never bothered with any of the occasional strays who found themselves in Aylewood. The dodgy ones aren’t stupid enough to try take on the three big Winterstoke brothers, and it’s not worth antagonizing the good ones with unnecessary questions. You never know when you need an extra wolf at your back instead of snarling in front of you.

  Somehow, he’d got it wrong about Sherwood although Luke consoles himself with the knowledge that he knew something was wrong. He just hadn’t known what it was.

  Gregor is unnaturally quiet on the way back. He’s screwed up and he knows it. He drives slowly and carefully through white-covered roads, while Luke mulls over the information.

  The Winterstokes aren’t a wealthy pack, and despite Aylewood’s reputation as an idyllic tourist spot, the town doesn’t have much money. Whatever scam Caleb Sherwood is attempting to pull, there can’t be much of a payoff involved.

  It doesn’t matter. Luke liked him. He’d even started to trust him. The words on the sheet had hit him like a blow to the stomach.

  He’s not even sure who he’s more furious with: himself or Sherwood. The man had snuck out of the tower the very first night, and instead of confronting him, Luke just started playing chase with him in the woods like they were a pair of cubs.