Arynn's Chosen Mate: Bad Alpha Dads (Iron Wolves MC Book 8)

by Elle Boon

  “Mom, it was so awesome. We saw dragons, and two suns, and there was these fairies with wings. I want to color my hair blue and take Gizmo there. When can we go back?” Rebel blurted moments before she launched herself at Sheila, her face burying into her mom’s stomach.

  Romie came to a halt at the bottom of the steps. “Come here, Ro, I need a hug, too,” he told her.

  She flew up the stairs, her thin arms wrapping around him. “I was scared,” she admitted. He looked over toward Sheila. “It’s okay to be scared, gioia.”

  The sound of Gizmo’s tail hitting the porch as he waited patiently for his hugs sounded like a hammer hitting wood. Arynn flinched as the big animal butted against his side.

  Romie’s head lifted. “I’m your joy, too?”

  He brushed her hair back and squatted down so he was at eye level. “Romie, it doesn’t matter whose blood runs through your veins. Blood don’t make family. Kellen ain’t my blood, but he’s family. I’d die for him and he for me. Ain’t that right?” He didn’t look up, knowing the alpha of the Iron Wolves was standing close enough to hear their conversation.

  “Absolutely. They say blood is thicker than water, but in my opinion, both will spill through cloth, while a chosen bond is harder than steel. It’s tougher than anything you’ll ever come across. A bond is forged, and there’s nothing and nobody strong enough to sever those between family that’s chosen.”

  Romie turned back to look at Kellen. “I choose all of you, then. You’re all mine.”

  Gizmo gave a loud woof as if he too agreed. Goddess, he was blessed to have so many wonderful changes in his life, even the huge beast of a dog that made lawnmines of shit.

  Kellen nodded. “Good choice, kid. We’ll see you later. Take your time, Arynn, ain’t nobody in need of the Omega right now.” He winked.

  Arynn rose and took Romie’s hand then Rebel’s. “I hope you like spaghetti.”

  Rebel looked at the box that her dad had given her. He’d had a strange look in his eyes as he’d handed it to her, but didn’t say too much, which worried her. Not that he was a huge talker. Well, he was, but he was more of a—hugger.

  “Are you going to open that or am I?” Romie asked for the third time.

  “Hold your horses, Ro. What if it’s filled with like, stupid stuff?” She didn’t actually believe that. The pretty box had clearly been chosen with care, and kept even more securely, if the condition of it was anything to go by, was far from stupid.

  “Why did you tell them you’d open it outside if you were just going to hold it and stare at it like it was filled with poisoned rattlers?” Romie bumped her shoulder.

  “You’ve watched too many of those weird cult shows.” Heck their hometown was a living breathing cultish place. When Romie raised her hand as if to snatch the box, Rebel growled.

  Romie tapped her on the nose. “Bad wolfie, now open sesame.”

  She rolled her eyes at her best friend and sister’s antics, then lifted the lid. A gasp escaped her as she saw what was inside. Envelopes, all addressed to her, only he’d addressed them to Rebel Dunn instead of the last name of the man her bio-mother had married. She’d expected twelve for the twelve years she was born, but the box was filled with dozens of envelopes. Some were thicker than others, but all were returned to sender and unopened. Her eyes filled with tears as she dug to the bottom and saw he’d started sending them a month after she’d been born.

  “He wrote to me,” she said between her tears.

  Sitting outside their new home, with the moon high above, she went through each envelope filled with cards and little notes. Her dad hadn’t been a bad dad. He’d loved her all along, and even though he knew she wouldn’t get his correspondence, he kept trying and writing. By the time she opened the last one, she was sobbing.

  Strong arms lifted her from the chair and then sat back down, with him holding her. In her father’s arms, she cried for all that she’d never had but should’ve, and then she cried for what Romie missed too. She then cried because she knew her dad hurt even worse than she did, because he’d known about her and could do nothing but write letters and cards, his love never reciprocated. Until now.

  “I loved you before you were born, and I’ll love you long after I leave this Earth, Rebel girl. You too, Romie. Come here.” Arynn shifted Rebel onto one side, making room for Romie.

  “I’ll always love you, daddy. No matter what happens. Always, even when I get older and find a mate of my own.”

  Her dad growled, but she wasn’t scared. Going from having a mom who’d fight the world to protect her and Romie, to having a big strong wolf for a dad, Rebel wasn’t scared of anything. She knew deep down, her dad would make sure they were always safe.

  “Not just me, but the entire pack, gioia. You three are my life, but you’re all pack, too. That means everyone will always make sure your safety and happiness come first.” He tapped his head. “I’ll have to teach you both how to put up walls.”

  She knew he could read their minds, and although he said he’d respect their privacy, he also said it was hard when they were projecting.

  Romie shifted. “Even me? Even though I’m not your daughter?”

  Rebel reached over and put her arm around Romie. Before she could say anything, her dad put his forehead against Romie’s. “You may not be flesh of my flesh, but you are my daughter, don’t let me ever hear you or anyone say differently.”

  Her mom came to stand behind them. “I can’t believe how—perfect this is. When’s the other shoe gonna drop?”

  “Never if I have any say in the matter,” Arynn growled.

  Two weeks later...

  Arynn had Sheila on the back of his Harley. It was the first time he’d taken her out on his bike and still wasn’t sure if it was the wisest idea. When she got scared, her dragon tended to pop out of her. Kellen had assured them that Lula would be coming back for some lessons on control, but after two weeks, he had given in.

  “I love this,” she yelled, her arms out to the side as they rode down a straightaway.

  He grinned at her true enjoyment. He thought of ordering her one of her own but decided they should wait and let her get used to riding with him first.

  When they pulled into town, he noticed the female who used to hang around with Lyric climbing onto a Roadster. She looked around like she thought she was being followed, sending his protective instinct on alert. He waited at the light, glad nobody was behind them as he sat through the green.

  “What’s wrong?” Sheila asked.

  Their link was so strong it took nothing for them to talk to one another. “That’s a friend of Lyric and the girls. I haven’t seen her around the club for a while, but she looked like she was nervous, and did you see that shiner she was sporting?”

  Sheila shook her head. “Should we follow her?” she asked through their headset instead of their link.

  He squeezed her thigh. “No, she’s human. We can’t fuck with them unless they become part of pack trouble or one of us claims them.”

  “But if she’s hurt and a friend...” she trailed off.

  “We can’t, stellina.” He revved his bike and headed back toward the Iron Wolves. He’d mention what he saw to Lyric, maybe since they were friends she’d check into it. Either way, she wasn’t his problem.

  “The girls are babysitting for Kellen and Lake tonight. You got any ideas what we can do to entertain ourselves?” Sheila projected the image of herself tied up to their huge bed, her naked body on display and open for whatever he wanted.

  “I have an idea, but it’s you on your hands and knees and me claiming that ass of yours.”

  She squirmed behind him, her sweet scent of arousal permeating the air. Arynn was never so happy that he’d finally gotten his head out of his ass and chose the mate of his heart. Of course, it had only taken him twelve years, so he figured he had a lot of time to make up for, starting as soon as he got Sheila home, naked and tied up for whatever he chose, or on her hands and knees, fi
nally claiming her delectable behind.

  The End

  Coti’s Unclaimed Mate

  Coming Soon

  Nene took her helmet off and placed it over the handlebars. “Dammit, why do they both have to be home instead of at a bar?”

  She stared at the doublewide trailer she shared with her dad and younger brother with disgust. The beat-up pickup her dad drove had more rust than not, and the motorcycle her brother owned wasn’t much better. Both men were mean as rattlesnakes when sober and even worse when drunk. She rubbed a finger over her bruised eye. “I won’t sit back and take it this time,” she promised.

  It would only take her five minutes, tops, to get what she needed, then she’d be out. Hopefully, by the time she returned, they’d both be passed out drunk. “Where’s my wishing rock when I need it?”

  “Talking to yourself again, girl?” Her dad asked then belched. He wore a red wife beater tank top, a step up from the dirty white one. The jeans he had on were clean and appeared new.

  “Yep, you know me, always off in my own head.” She pocketed her key as she strolled by him.

  Her dad grabbed her by the arm. “You’re just like your mama, thinking you’re better than us.”

  She jerked her arm out of his, watching as he spit over the railing. Mental note. Never date a guy who chews. Her file of mental notes was long and had more filing cabinets than the national library, but they all had good reasons behind them.

  Harold, her father, hitched his jeans up. “One day, your reckoning will come just like your mama’s, and then you’ll find just how low you can fall. Standing on your pedestal like you do, it’s bound to hurt.”

  Nene ignored him and his blathering, like she did most days. He’d been telling her how worthless she was since she’d been knee-high to a grasshopper. Tonight was no different.

  Her brother Harry wasn’t in his favorite spot when home, which was in one of the recliners in front of the television. She hurried into her bedroom and shut the door. She needed to change out of her day work clothes and into her night work clothes. Her dad and brother may be happy to live in their piece of shit trailer, but she had plans. Now that her friends were happily involved with men who didn’t want her around, she wanted out. Since they’d graduated high school, she’d been saving her money, squirreling it away in a savings account. The five-figure sum would get her across the country and allow her to start new. Start where people didn’t call her trash.

  She shoved her tennis shoes off then her slacks and top. Working at the bank, she had to dress in proper attire, but at night, she had a totally different persona. There, she was Nene the flag girl. If they’d let her race, she’d love that, but her bike wasn’t fast enough. She could’ve used her savings and had the Iron Wolves fix it up, but then they’d be privy to her private life. No, better to allow them to fade away. Her dreams of becoming an interior designer, were just that, dreams.

  Nene swiped at a tear. The loss of her friends hurt, but she’d found new ones. The bikers welcomed her as one of them. They paid good money for her to show up, wave the flag at the beginning of a race, and pass out drinks. Not a glamorous life, but she was past the point of giving any fucks. After giving her notice last week at the bank, the manager had almost seemed relieved, the jackhole. She’d been there for four years, never missing a day, always on time. The least he could’ve been was upset to lose a loyal employee. “Fuck him,” she muttered.

  “Who you fucking now, sis?”

  Nene spun around, holding a shirt in front of her. “Get the hell out of my room, Harry.”

  He shrugged his shoulder. “I was just checking on you, thought I heard your bike roll in. So, where you off to?”

  She gave him her back, pulling the tank top over her head. Whatever gods were watching, she thanked that her brother hadn’t come in when she was in only a thong. Damn pervert.

  “I’m going out with some friends,” she lied easily.

  Her brother pulled his can of chew out of his back pocket. “Is that so? Well, you have fun now, you hear?” He shoved a huge mouthful of stuff into his lower lip, then smiled.

  Nene wanted to tell him how nasty he looked with bits of tobacco staining his teeth but let him leave. A quick glance at the clock had her shoving a change of clothes into her backpack along with her ID and some cash. Everything else of value, she kept in a locker at the gym she worked out at. Her dad and brother had taught her long ago nothing was sacred in their home. She also had a go bag stashed outside of town with another ID and some cash. Her just in case you need to get out of town bag, she called it.

  After digging the key to her bike out of her pocket, she straightened her spine. She went to the door and took a deep breath. When she opened her door, the hall was empty. Shoulders back, head high, she marched outside and to her bike. Both her dad and brother stood on the porch, their hands resting on the railing. She wished the damn thing would collapse beneath them, but luck wasn’t on her side.

  With a backward wave, she tossed her leg over her bike and started it. The deep rumble always made her giddy. She grabbed her helmet and strapped it on. One last look at the trailer, which used to be blue and white, but looked more grey and grey, she turned the wheel and headed out. One more week and she was out of here.

  Coti listened as Arynn told Lyric about her friend Nene having a black eye. For the other man to have seen it from across the street, the bruise had to have been pretty bad. His fists clenched. The urge to fly into a rage and beat whoever touched the female had him on edge. Whoa, she’s not yours to protect, he reminded his wolf.

  His little reminder didn’t stop him from heading toward the door and his bike. He’d just drive around town and do some looking, see if one little female crossed his path.

  A short time later, he was about to head back when a Harley Roadster driven by a crazy female sped past him. He’d recognize the bike anywhere as he’d seen Lyric and Syn out with their human friends several times. Truth be told, Kellen and Xan had ordered him and several others to shadow them to make sure they were safe. Now, he was shadowing a human and couldn’t for the life of him figure out why.

  He turned around, heading in the same direction she went. His wolf went crazy the farther outside of town they got. Finally, he saw lights and dozens of vehicles parked along the highway. There looked to be a small town set up outside the city, a thriving area he’d never noticed before. He waited a half hour before driving forward. With his vision, he could make out several tents and music blaring hard rock. When he was within ten feet of the area, a truck filled with men rolled in front of him. He’d seen their vehicle off to the side, had noticed they’d been drinking and smoking something other than cigarettes.

  Coti placed his feet on the pavement. “Evening, boys.”

  “You wanting in on the race or fights?” A man with a potbelly asked. He had a shotgun resting on his shoulder, giving him that lead courage.

  “Fights for starters,” Coti answered. Hell, he didn’t know what kind of fighting they had going on, but he was pretty confident he could take whoever he came up against.

  “It’s been a while since we’ve had fresh meat. Let him through. What’s your name, boyo?” The leader asked, slapping the gun against his palm.

  He lifted his lip in a snarl. “Wolf, you can call me Wolf.”

  “Well, Wolfman, you picked a hell of a night to show up. Hope you got a strong stomach.”

  Coti heard one of the other men mutter how it didn’t matter since the Wolfman wouldn’t be leaving except in a body bag. Shit just got interesting.

  “Who do I need to see about these fights?” Coti asked.

  “Drake, but don’t worry none, he’ll find you. You might want to have a few shots and see if you can’t get laid before then.” The man snickered.

  Coti scratched the side of his nose with his middle finger, then revved his engine, going around the truck. “What the hell you got yourself into, little Nene?”

  The thought of leaving his b
ike unattended didn’t sit well with him, but he knew he had other means of transportation. Four legs to be exact. After making sure it was a secure as he could, he pocketed the key and eyed his surroundings. His bike was nice but didn’t look any better than the ones around him. The matte black paint looking incongruous. However, he was sure his ride was worth more than all the others parked in the area.

  He had to duck his head to enter the first tent, the pop-up bar had a real wooden countertop with stools and tables set up. Each chair was filled with mean looking men and women who looked desperate to please. Fuck, this wasn’t a place for a nice girl like Lyric’s friend.

  Nene swatted the hand of another man away. “I swear by all that is holy I’ll rip your hand off and shove it so far up your ass, even the good lord ain’t gonna want it.”

  “I do love a bitch with a mouth on her. How ‘bout you, tank?”

  Tank glared at her. “I can think of other things she could do with her mouth.”

  She turned away from Tank and Bales. Both men gave off creeper vibes. If she’d still been in the pop-up bar, she’d have a little more protection, but out on the line, she had to fend for herself, or so Mac had informed her. If she wanted to continue working, he wanted to see her.

  “Rose, get your fine ass up here.” Mac yelled.

  Nene hated when he called her rose. It made her want to stab him with a thorn. In the fucking dick eye. “Whatcha need, boss?” She never called him Mac, didn’t want him to think she thought they were friends. Him boss. She employee.

  “One day, you’re going to scream my name. Get me a beer, and it best be cold when it gets here.”

  She hurried back down the rickety ladder to fetch the asshat’s beer. One more week. That’s all she had to put in. Actually, two more days, and then she could be done with the Hell Makers.

  Reaching into the stock Mac kept for himself, she pulled two out. He never wanted just one.

  Before she could climb back up, she stopped, and adjusted her ponytail. With quick flicks, she wrapped it around and around, making it a messy bun. Much harder for him to grab a hold of. Revulsion shook her. “Fucking hate all these asshats,” she muttered.