“You’ll live,” Frank said, swinging his lantern off to the left. “But if you don’t survive, I won’t hold it against you.”
Jock cleared his throat and came to an abrupt stop. “Holy hell.”
Frank snorted a laugh. “Hell? No, this ain’t hell, friend, but I can tell you from experience. When Carla is feeling frisky, this place is as hot as a whorehouse on a nickel night.”
Chapter Six
Carla was turning down her bed when Grant bolted inside her cabin with his gun drawn. “Where is he?”
“Who?”
“Don’t play dumb with me, Carla. I saw the whole thing in my blasted head. You and him were…well, you know what you were doin’.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“The hell you don’t! Where’s Jock? Come on now. Time’s a-wastin’. He could need me.”
Carla sat on the bed and folded her hands in her lap. After a moment, she smoothed her palms over the coverlet and crossed one leg over the other.
Clearly baffled, Grant stretched his neck forward and said, “Now ain’t the time to proposition me, Carla. Me and you? We’ve had a right smart bit of time to see if we were gonna take and we didn’t. Now ain’t the moment to explore what might have been when my best friend might be a-lyin’ dead someplace.”
“You’re all roostered up again. Aren’t you, Grant?”
With his unkempt hair flying around his shoulders and his eyes as wide and red as plump strawberries, he staggered a minute before he said, “Even if I’m full as a tick, I still have a right to know where my pack master is. Last thing I heard in my head he was…well…you know what he was a-doin’.”
“You keep saying that as if we were ‘doin’’ something inappropriate.”
“If you ain’t in the marriage way and you ain’t earnin’ money for the time you spend lying on your back, then I’d say—”
“For your information I wasn’t lying on my back,” she snapped. “And for a man who soaked his brains in liquor before coming in here spouting off about sexual relations, you don’t have a very good imagination.”
“My imagination ain’t what women see when they look at me.”
“They see a whipping dummy?”
“Bite your tongue, woman. That’s a most insultin’ thing to say to a man.”
“And it’s quite flattering for you to assume the only way a woman can have relations is to lie on her back and take it like an animal born to breed? For your information we fucked outside, up against the logs!”
He opened his mouth to speak again but sealed his lips just as quickly. He grunted in an effort to at least make a sound. Finally, he said, “I don’t care a Continental if you…”
He stopped short of finishing his sentence. He rolled his lips back and forth, seemingly processing the new information. “So the two of you um…”
“We fucked, Grant.”
“Here now. Shut your cock holster. Ain’t no need to talk like a man. Jock wouldn’t like it.”
Carla felt her face heat. Grant had some nerve. Just who did he think he was coming into her cabin and insulting her? “My cock holster?”
Grant’s lips twitched. He waggled his brows. “You expect me to believe you didn’t bag his pipe while you were having marriage relations?”
Carla was furious. Swinging her arm to the door, she screamed, “Out! Now! I’ve heard enough from you. You’re snapped and I refuse to sit here and be insulted. Why don’t you just go and drink another bottle dry!”
The crunching of pebbles and sticks under the weight of heavy boots drew Carla’s gaze to the doorway. Frank and Jock appeared there a moment later.
“Is there a problem in here?” Jock asked.
“Carla’s been a tad cantankerous. Nothin’ I can’t handle.” He turned to Carla and grinned. “Ain’t that right, Carla?”
“Argh!” she screamed outright and started to leave the cabin, but Frank caught her around the waist.
Frank winked. “Here now, kitten. Why are you running off so soon?”
A throaty sound left her lungs. She tried to wiggle free, but Frank held her still tighter.
His expression changed to one of pure male dominance. “Don’t.”
An unexplainable and arousing chill shot through her body. His dominance left her listless, relaxing in his arms.
Tapping her nose with his fingertip, he said, “Now then. That’s better.”
Carla stared at Frank’s mouth. Those lips were maddening. The manner in which he spoke to her always left her longing for his kiss. She wanted him to take a trip around the world, kiss her from head to toe, all because she sensed that guttural ache in his voice.
“Grant,” Jock said, breaking through the sexual tension in the air. “I think you know Frank Smith.”
“Nope, siree. I haven’t met him. Just heard the rumors about him and his good-for-nothin’—”
“Grant,” Jock interrupted him and placed a firm hand on his shoulder. “We’ll be spending a lot of time with Frank now.”
“I’m looking forward to it, Grant,” Frank said, reaching for the other man’s hand.
Reluctantly, Grant shook the hand offered. Then, he turned his complete attention to Jock. “I was in a stew. Frank’s pack has been howling like wounded pups. Our men ain’t back from the border. They’re still a day or two out fetchin’ supplies and I was afraid—”
“Grant,” Jock said evenly. “There’s nothing to fret over. Frank and I have come to an understanding.”
“We have?” Frank asked, a little play in his voice.
“You have?” Carla asked, hopeful. While Frank and Jock were in the barn, Carla had nervously prepared her cabin, wondering if Frank and Jock would later join her there or if they had something more exciting planned for her out in the barn.
Jock cupped her cheek and turned to Grant. “I don’t know why or how it happened, but Carla is mated to two shifters from different packs.”
“Ah no!” Grant bellowed, slapping his hand against his forehead. “This can’t be! Don’t you see, Jock? We’re done for if this is true.”
“It’s true,” Frank assured him.
“I’m tryin’ to talk with Jock and this ain’t your concern,” Grant snapped, turning his back to Frank.
“Grant, this probably isn’t the first time two packs have joined,” Jock said.
“The hell you say!” Grant clenched his fists. “History will show this sort of cohortin’ around don’t work out. So Frank walked up while you and Carla were in the middle of your goings-on. That don’t mean a thing, Jock. Not one iota.”
“Actually, it does.”
“Frank walked up when you were fuckin’ Carla. That don’t mean you’re in the marriage way to him, too!”
Jock groaned. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”
“You don’t believe me? Well, what do you reckon it meant?”
“I imprinted on Carla.” Jock acted as if his lone statement solidified everything.
“There ya go then. She belongs to you. End of story.”
“I imprinted on her, too,” Frank told him.
Grant stumbled backward and took a seat on Carla’s bed. “This can’t be happening. Just where does this leave me then?”
Jock’s lips twitched. Frank shot Carla a wink.
“Where do you want this to leave you?” Frank asked him.
“I ain’t figured all that out yet,” Grant replied, dragging his hand across his face before focusing on Jock. “I was always at your flank.”
“And you still will be.”
“How’s that gonna happen with Carla and Frank here sharin’ the same bed as you?”
“Carla is my mate. Frank is her mate. My pack and his will join together as one and we’ll work out the rest as we go along.”
Grant snarled. “You ain’t the only one in the pack, Jock. Seems you went and took up with a chiseler. Why anyone with half their brain intact can see what Carla is now.”
&nb
sp; “And what am I exactly?” She understood what he was implying.
“A cheat!” Grant threw his arms over his head and rose to his feet. “You want a slice of everybody’s cake and you’ll swindle here and yonder to make sure you get it. So happens, you’re causin’ a mess of trouble. If you don’t pull in your horns, two packs will be at odds on account of you!”
“Are you done?” Jock asked, narrowing his gaze.
Grant’s nostrils flared. Carla halfway expected him to shift right before her very eyes and bound out of the cabin.
“I don’t get the gist of this,” Grant drawled. “Two imprints from two different packs? It ain’t right, Jock.”
“According to you?”
“Hell no!” Grant blew out a heavy breath. “Forget me. It ain’t gonna be smiled upon by anybody, anywhere! These goings-on ain’t accepted around common folk, much less shifters! You went and had yourselves a hog-killin’ time and now you want your friends to slap you on the back and say, ‘Well how ’bout ya? Ain’t you just grand?’ It don’t work that way, Jock. Nobody is gonna be around to say grace, much less congratulations when this news gets out.”
Jock started to speak but Frank held up his hand and stepped forward. Grant gave Jock a stern look and shook his head.
Frank said, “Grant, I know you must have questions. I do. Jock may have a few, too. You don’t have a mate. Do you?”
Grant glared at Jock. “How does he know that?”
“I can sense it.”
“See there!” Grant paced. “An enemy already knows too much about our pack on account of you!”
“Grant, it’s not like that,” Carla said, stepping forward.
Grant poked his finger in her direction. “You stay out of this.”
Jock and Frank snarled at the same time. Their canine incisors dropped as if they were about to shift and wage a war on a newly declared enemy.
Frank apparently reined in his temper first. After shaking his head a few times, he squared his shoulders and lifted his chin. “As I was trying to explain…we don’t understand everything there is to know about double imprint. Since you aren’t mated, you can’t fully comprehend what I’m trying to explain. Jock and I didn’t have the strength to deny our mate.
“When a shifter imprints, it’s because his fated mate is there for the taking. Looking into her eyes, he sees a grounded connection even he can’t explain. Mating with a human comes with its set of complications, too. What was once foreign to them becomes strangely familiar.
“When mates come together, they catch glimpses of their future together. They can see the past and often have a clearer understanding of the present.
“Above all else, their connection is supreme. Fated mates can’t deny the need to imprint. When they find their destined partner in life, loving and protecting them is a priority. Once a shifter imprints, he or she has another extension of themselves.”
“Is he tellin’ me the straight of things?” Grant asked, swinging his gaze to Carla.
“Yes,” she replied.
Grant snorted at that. “Bullshit.” He tossed his head back and cackled, slapping his hand against his thigh. “Sure as shootin’. She is playin’ you fellas. Wait and see. Listen to what I tell ya.”
“Hobble your lip and let Frank finish,” Jock said.
“I’ve heard enough. Thank you very much. I’ll go back to the den and study on it a bit,” Grant said, marching to the door. He’d taken one step out of the cabin when he leapt backward. “What the ever-lovin’ hell?”
Frank slapped Grant between the shoulders. “Grant, meet the fellas.”
“What is this, Jock?” Grant shrugged away Frank’s hand. “Are you throwin’ me to the wolves now?”
Jock shot Carla a sideways glance. “Considering what we have in store for Carla tonight? That’s exactly what I’m doing, Grant. Go on now. Get to know your other brothers and sisters. Frank’s pack accepted our fates. You need to do the same.”
“And if I don’t?”
Jock and Frank locked in a knowing gaze. Carla saw the uncertainty in Jock’s eyes, but she also realized that because of her, neither man could deny their destiny or ignore the fact that their fates were now one in the same. They shared the same mate. Life could not lead them down separate paths.
Squaring his shoulders, Jock said, “You’ll accept Carla as my mate, and by acknowledging her as my partner in life, you’ll willingly accept Frank as well.”
“Or?” Grant’s bloodshot eyes were clearer than before. He seemed to search for his own sobering conclusions as he stood there in front of Frank’s pack.
The wolves were intimidating. Their body language suggested they were ready for a battle. Each wolf crouched in a defensive position. Most of their ears were back, their heads hung low.
They gave off the impression they were waiting to rip their enemy apart. Carla couldn’t help but wonder if Grant was the anticipated opponent.
“You’re either with us or you stand against us,” Frank told him. “The choice is yours.”
“No, choice was taken out of my hands when the two of you decided to imprint on the same woman.” Grant turned to Jock and with sorrowful eyes, he added, “You’re on your own. Your pack is divided. Our friends will stand with me.”
Chapter Seven
Jock didn’t join Carla and Frank for dinner. He sat on a tree stump about ten feet from her cabin whittling a stick and listening to the continual barking and howling in the distance.
A chase had commenced after Grant left them. Frank had phased and stood on the porch transmitting messages to his pack. By the guttural growls in the crowd of ten, his pack wasn’t pleased with him, but they accepted his choices, believing fate had truly played a part in Frank’s and Jock’s decisions.
After Frank’s pack departed, Jock couldn’t help but notice the quiet in his head and he was saddened by the fact. He couldn’t hear Grant’s thoughts or sense the dangers he faced. Instead, he sat there listening to the faint echo of a progressing hunt.
Frank emerged after his meal, rubbing his stomach. “You missed some mighty fine cooking.”
Jock bent his elbow and whirled the whittled stick. As the wood bounced across the ground, he heard a loud whining followed by a squelched whimper.
“Call off your pack.” Jock realized he would be indebted to Frank from that moment forward if Frank honored his request.
“I can’t do that.”
“The hell you can’t,” Jock said, his gaze meeting Carla’s when she walked outside and stood beside Frank.
“Grant has already turned on you, Jock. If he lives, he will bring this pack nothing but trouble. The danger he represents now goes far beyond taking your place as a leader.”
“How so?”
“He’s bitter. He doesn’t want to share the territory with another pack.”
“We’ve all lived here for a number of years.”
“Coexisting within WolfDen is one thing. Leading the same pack, adjoined by the commitments bound by one mate, is quite another.”
“Your pack seemingly accepted your decision to imprint.”
“I have a more mature pack. The Wyoming Wood Pack was once ruled by the hand of a ruthless leader. My father was cruel. While the distant past is only documented history recorded in the minds of those still surviving, it was a reality for some of the elders who advise our pack members today. They remember their harsh treatment and poor living conditions. My pack won’t run the risk of repeating history.”
Barking resounded. Whimpers and yelping filled the hills.
Jock flinched. He narrowed his gaze on Carla, penetrating her thoughts in an effort to understand her position. She smiled then as if she knew what was required of her.
Squeezing Frank’s arm, she said, “Grant isn’t a leader, Frank. He doesn’t have the ability to lead in Jock’s absence. Jock’s pack will return from the border and join us. They wouldn’t follow Grant from here to the outhouse much less honor him as their pack mas
ter. He isn’t an Alpha. He doesn’t have the characteristics or strength needed to lead others. He’s not a threat to us.”
Frank turned to her and studied her face, really looked at her as if he were deciding whether or not she had been coerced into making a plea on Jock’s behalf. Then, to Jock’s surprise, he patted her hand and turned. Phasing immediately, he left a pile of clothes in his wake and loped toward the tall, whispering fields.
Jock followed his shape until his shadow was no longer visible under the moonlight. “Thank you, Carla.”
“You don’t need to thank me. I don’t want Grant to die. You’re his friend and it pains you to see him like this.”
In the distance, an Alpha’s continual howl sent chills up and down Jock’s spine. Barks of opposition were returned, but the Alpha’s voice rang higher, his tone deeper and more distinct.
Carla sat beside him. “Frank called them off in time.”
“You can hear his thoughts?”
“Yes,” she replied. “And yours.”
“I suppose you would.”
She smoothed her palm across his arm, seemingly relaxed and savoring the quiet of the night. He slipped his hand in hers and enjoyed her warmth as the evening calm swept over them.
He had just turned to kiss her when her entire body went rigid.
“What is it?”
Her eyes widened as she listened to something only she could hear. “Frank says Grant is okay. He called off his pack, but Grant ran for the border. Frank is placing a line of defense near WolfDen and has advised you to let your pack members know. If they don’t join you and Frank, they will be considered enemies of this territory and treated as such.”
“That’s fair enough,” Jock said. “Maybe Grant will sober up by morning and come to his senses before he does any real harm.”
“And until then?”
“We wait.”
“What will we do with our time?” she asked, snuggling closer and wrapping her arms around his waist.
Imprints [Dominant Wolves, Submissive Mates 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) Page 4