by Mandy Rosko
Laurence growled, his hackles raised high. "No."
The hair on Dennis's back, and what was left of his tail, stood up as he roared at him. "I said fall back!"
Laurence cringed, practically giving Dennis his belly right then and there.
The betas, who were still too close to Garret's woman for his liking, spread out, eyes still on their target. Glowering and growling, they fell back to stand behind their alpha.
"You should stay, Dennis," Garret said, and now his monstrous voice was slurred thanks to a lack of some of his teeth. They'd grow back in a few days, but for now, with his adrenaline plummeting, he was throbbing in pain, could taste blood, and he wanted to fight. "We could end this right now. I might even make it quick for you."
He wasn't going to make it quick.
Dennis snarled at him. "If I ever see her again in my territory, I'll rip her apart."
"Not your territory!" Garret yelled, then he roared until his throat hurt, spittle flying from his maw.
Laurence, coward that he was, trembled even as he glared. It would be wonderful if he started to cry, but he didn't.
Dennis didn't blink.
He turned his back on Garret and walked toward the darkness of the trees. He did it so calmly and quietly, as if Garret and his men posed no threat at all.
The insult of being disrespected like that nearly sent Garret into a flying rage. He moved to chase after his enemy and finally put him in his place.
"Garret!"
Jax's voice stopped him.
He glanced over his shoulder, and Jax glared at him.
He wasn't the strongest, even as a dragon, but Garret trusted his judgment; that's why he was second-in-command.
Garret glanced down at his woman, who was still trembling. There was the faint scent of urine in the air, and Garret was pretty sure it hadn't come from Laurence when he'd roared at the man.
Garret released a lumbering growl, before rolling his shoulders and forcing himself to be calm.
So many years of searching for her, just to find her like this, and so close to his home, too.
If he'd waited until tomorrow, been patient enough to wait for a decent hour to reveal himself, he wouldn't have heard her screams for help. Dennis would have reached her first and Garret would have been too late. All this would be new to her. Not a good first impression, especially for a human, and Garret was so big, and Jax was bigger and had scales and wings. Garret wondered what this human woman was seeing as she looked at him.
She was still on the ground, her face and body dirty, and her amber-brown hair was in a knotted mess with leaves and twigs sticking out at odd places. It might have once been in a bun, or some other hairstyle, but he couldn't tell. She trembled more violently as Garret approached.
He did look like the creatures that had just attacked her. His arms were long, long enough that when he bent down to run on all fours, his top side was taller than his back side. Her entire head could easily fit in the palm of his hand, and each of his claws were as long as her fingers, though much sharper and thicker, of course.
Then there was his face and muzzle, like that of a wolf, only one from nightmares.
He thought perhaps she'd be less frightened if he made himself appear as a real wolf. Then he could make himself look almost cute to the human eyes, especially if she happened to be a dog lover.
That had been the original plan. After he found her, he was going to show her his wolf shape, and prove to her that he could be trusted and sweet and protective of her. He'd planned on showing her this monstrous-looking shape only after she trusted him, when she, hopefully, would not fear him. Now it was too late.
"No one will hurt you," he said.
She tensed, her hazel eyes flying wide so he could see the whites all around them and a ring of bright blue. That didn't seem so common. He hoped she also had an uncommon sense of forgiveness after this, but she would learn to trust him. Even now, she must be feeling the pull between them as the mate of an alpha.
He certainly felt it for her. She was beautiful.
He held out his hand to her, but she flinched away from it as she continued to stare and say nothing.
He didn't appreciate the way she continued to hide under Jax's wing.
He looked to his friend, and Jax got the message and removed his wing.
A light squeak escaped her throat when she realized the protection she'd been using was leaving her.
"I will not hurt you. You are safe now."
His woman turned her attention back to him. She pushed herself to her wobbly knees, but still did not take his hand. She only looked at it.
"What's your name?"
She swallowed. Her heartbeat was quick, but it was proof she was safe, that she was here with him. It soothed the beast inside.
"Miranda Swanson."
Nice name. Garret had known her last name, but her father had lied about her first name. Of course, he'd suspected that. That's why he'd had such trouble finding her when the man vanished.
"Is this real?" She reached out and tapped lightly on the dark padding of one of his fingers before pulling back, observing, as though waiting for Garret to vanish in front of her.
Or attack.
"It's real. Please."
He wanted her to touch him again. That light tap had jolted him in the best possible way. Warmth radiated through him. His mate was looking at him, was curious about him, and the beast within him was willing to curl in front of her and present his belly, as though to a beloved master for a pleasant scratch.
There had been no mistake. The searching had been worth it.
She touched him again, this time holding on to his finger and allowing Garret to help her to her feet. She was not a willowy girl, but she was lighter than air. He reminded himself again and again that her human nature made her small and fragile. It wasn't preferred to have a human mate, but this was his mate, and Garret would have to take extra care around her. He didn't want to break her.
Dane suddenly hissed, catching his attention. "Garret, look."
Dane pointed with one of his claws, and Garret glanced down.
A bright splotch of blood seeped through the thin material of the ugly teal dress she wore. It was blooming outward, spreading and becoming darker at the center.
"What?" Miranda looked down, saw the blood at her hip, and swayed on her feet. "Oh."
Her knees lost their strength, but Garret caught her before she fell. She was so small in his large hands, and suddenly so pale.
He'd thought the smell of blood was from the injuries he'd given to Laurence and Dennis.
Garret stared at his mate, an alien sense of helplessness freezing his muscles for a half second before he snapped himself out of it. He looked to his men. "Move!"
They started to run with him.
Chapter 3
Miranda dreamed of big, really big, monsters with hunched backs, fur, long teeth, and snouts like mutated wolves. She saw scales and wings and claws, but the one that had her attention the most had been the one who spoke to her.
It said it wouldn't hurt her, and maybe she only believed it because she was dreaming. Or high. Someone had clearly drugged her with something before her shift ended, because there was no way in hell any of this was real.
Not a chance that warm feeling she got when she touched the monster was real. She’d felt herself falling and heard an angry rumble, but she couldn't remember hitting the ground. Then there was nothing except for that feeling of warm safety. Like a blanket, it surrounded her, and she snuggled into it.
Then the dream got worse. Her body got hot, and she tried to kick away whatever it was that was smothering her, but couldn't. Her car was overheating. That's what it was, but even when she kicked off her blanket, she couldn't cool off. Miranda wanted to crack open one of the windows, but she couldn't seem to make herself move. Something was jabbing her in the side, and every time she so much as twitched, that pain throbbed and stung like someone was slowly sliding a thin kn
ife across her bare skin.
She kicked out and moaned when the heat got worse. She couldn't breathe. The air was too hot and she was going to suffocate in her car!
"Help."
"I'm here, honey."
That voice, it was the same as the one in her dream, but different. It sounded smoother, less rough than when it came out of the mouth of that creature. And it did belong to the creature. She was sure of it. It sounded too similar.
Something caressed her face. The touch was smoother, but Miranda still thought of that enormous creature. Her mind shrunk it down to be more of a regular size, but she still envisioned the hair, the pointed ears on top of a wolf's head, and the long muzzle and claws.
He'd saved her. He might not be real, but he'd still saved her. Even now, his touch lessened the pain in her side and the heat in her body. It was still there, and it still hurt, but now she could manage it. Now she could let the muscles in her body relax out of the tightly strung bundle of wires it had turned into.
Miranda slept.
At least, she thought she'd slept. If she had, it felt like she'd only been out for less than a minute before her mind jumped back into awareness. Her eyes snapped open like she'd been jolted awake with electricity.
Miranda sat up. It was bright. She inhaled deeply through her mouth and nose, then cringed.
"Ah!" She hissed and reached for her nose. The smell in her room… it was strong. A lot of musk. Lot of male. Not that she knew that for a fact, but something about the scent itself just screamed male at her.
There were a lot of scents in the room, piled on top of each other. In the distance, Miranda could smell food—pork fat, eggs, and grease—like someone had cooked a ton of bacon and eggs very recently. Above all that, there was the clean Febreeze scent she liked so much, but even it couldn't hide everything else in the room. Even as Miranda breathed through her mouth, she could taste those smells. The food smell in particular made her mouth water, but it was something else that made her drool.
One smell in her room did that. It was… one of the male scents. It smelled like sex times a thousand. That should have grossed her out, but instead, her body tightened and a warmth she wasn't comfortable with pooled in her belly.
Hard and fast, she panted for breath as her heart slammed under her ribs like the damned thing was trying to escape from prison.
A strange panic settled over her as one thing became perfectly clear once the shock of all those smells left her.
This was not her car. This was definitely not the backseat of her car. This was a bedroom—a big bedroom with a canopy bed and a king-sized mattress. The dark blue sheets and mahogany dressers and end tables brought her back to that male scent she'd been drooling over a second ago.
Miranda pushed down the thick, comfy covers over her body. She was wearing a nightdress that did not belong to her, and she wasn't wearing a bra or underwear.
The panic multiplied, and she had to look at her hands and ankles just to make absolutely sure she wasn't tied to the bed like some kind of sex slave.
She'd been pulled out of her car, dreamed of monsters trying to kill her, and now she was in some guy's bedroom. It was definitely someone else's room. Aside from being clean, something about it gave her the sense that this room was lived in.
Miranda carefully pushed her legs over the side of the mattress, hardly daring to breathe as she put her feet down onto the thick carpet. She might as well have not bothered being quiet about it because the bed didn't so much as squeak in protest.
She rushed over to the wardrobe, just because she had to see for herself that she was in some strange man's room.
She opened the doors, cringing when there was a long creaking noise, then had a peek inside.
That male scent that tickled the nerve endings in her nose, like a pleasant massage for her sense of smell, pushed at her hard enough that she fell back a step.
The scent was all her favorite things rolled into one. It was the smell of fresh coffee in the morning, bacon sizzling in a pan, freshly cut grass, and yes, chocolate. All those things put together should have made for something that smelled absolutely wretched, but Miranda was compelled forward. Her mind put up the "Do Not Disturb" sign in her head and clocked out, leaving her body to react.
She fell forward, grabbed the first thing she could reach, and pressed it to her face for a long, luxurious sniff.
The smell was strong, like the smells in the room itself, but it was no longer a shock to her senses. It was something she craved, this scent in particular.
Like fresh air, newly cut grass, and clean sweat.
Miranda moaned, snuggling her face into the T-shirts and sweaters of…
Of a guy she didn't know. Miranda was pressing her face into the clothes of someone who'd kidnapped her, taken her clothes off, and put her in his room. What the hell was she doing?
She yanked that "Do Not Disturb" sign off the door of her mind, kicked it in, and demanded that she get her head back in the game. What the fuck was the matter with her?
In fact, she remembered blood being on her. She'd been cut. She'd been bleeding.
She felt fine though. Miranda pressed her hands to her side, but she didn't feel anything there. No bandages, no pain.
She moved to the door, trying to run on her tiptoes while still being careful in case she was imagining her lack of wounds.
The door was locked. Miranda's heart flew into her throat, but she swallowed it back down.
"Okay, I'm fine. This is… fine."
She looked around the room. There was a window and another door. She checked the other door. It was a bathroom. Seriously? This guy had his own private bathroom?
And look at that bathtub. Jesus, it was so deep and looked like it was made of solid stone with water jets and—
Focus.
It really had been a long time since Miranda had been able to have a proper bath, but she yanked her eyes away from that gorgeous piece of artwork and searched the counters.
Yeah, a man definitely used this bathroom. The smell of shaving cream and the scent of the guy himself were heavy in here. The air was dry, but it smelled almost like his last shower had been less than an hour ago.
Something was clearly off with her sense of smell, and her eyesight was sharper. Miranda had perfect vision, but now she was seeing things in a light that was better than those new 4K TVs were touting.
Then she spotted the razor. It was an honest-to-God old-school flip razor, the kind that barber shops used to have. Maybe they still did have them. There was an electric razor in a stand next to it, but Miranda didn't think she'd be overly threatening with that.
She grabbed the blade. What kind of idiot kidnapped a woman, locked her in his room, and left a weapon like this behind?
She wasn't about to test the blade on her thumb or anything. She wasn't nearly badass enough for that, and it looked sharp enough to her, so she folded it into the little leather holder and went back out to the main part of the room.
Shoes. There had to be some shoes she could use. One look out the window, and all she saw was pine trees and birches as far as the eye could see. This wasn't as creepy as The Hills Have Eyes, or anything like that, but her mind was spitting out every horror movie she could ever think of.
And she'd dreamed of those monsters. They'd tried to kill her. She was positive she hadn't been imagining the blood on her, but where was her wound? Had she been in a coma for months?
She checked the wardrobe again, and then felt like an idiot when she found a pile of boots. Of course, they were twice the size of her feet. Wearing these shoes and trying to run for her life would just slow her down.
Miranda found a few pairs of socks instead. She layered them over her feet and figured that would have to do to protect her soles in case she needed to run for it.
Searching the window, she looked for a way to open it. Her hands moved along the sill until she found the locks. She unlatched them and then pushed it open. There was a window scre
en to keep bugs out. She nearly pushed it out until she thought to cut the screen with her new weapon.
That would make less noise, and she might not get caught.
Miranda cut a wide slash down one side of the screen, then slashed the other side, making an X that she could squeeze out of. Okay, perfect.
She looked out and down. There was literally nothing she could grab on to, and she was on the third floor.
Voices. Miranda spun her head around. She'd definitely heard voices coming down the hall. They must have been close, because she could make out the exact words and everything.
"Yeah, Garret's new mate is recovering nicely."
A whistling noise. "That's good. Girls don't usually take to being changed like that."
"Yeah, but if she's an alpha's mate, then it makes sense, right?"
Oh, hell no. These guys brought Miranda here to be the bride of one of their friends? She was in a cult. Great. That was just fucking perfect. If she stayed here, they were going to start calling her Sister Miranda and introduce her to all the other sister wives in the house.
She'd take the risk and jump out the window.
Miranda had no pockets, so she folded the razor back into its protective leather case and stuck it in her teeth. She prayed to God that wouldn't bite her in the ass on the landing part.
Okay, she could do this. She used to be a pro on the jungle gym. Of course, that was when she was a little girl, and skinnier, but it was the same thing. She hooked one leg over the ledge, and then the other. Fuck, the windowsill and the shredded screen were really uncomfortable on her knees.
She grunted, holding all her weight on her hands as she pushed herself out the window. As she climbed out, her nightdress caught on something and was pulled all the way up her bare ass, but that was okay. In every brave escape story she'd ever heard in her life, no one paid any attention to the embarrassing parts.
A voice from below her called out, "What are you doing up there?"
Miranda shrieked, luckily managing to spit out the razor, but unluckily, letting go of the window frame and falling, the nightgown ripping against her weight.
Even with green grass beneath her, the landing should not have felt so soft and easy. Miranda opened her eyes and looked up into the deepest, most handsome blue eyes she'd ever seen in her entire life.