by Liza Street
The woman finally spoke. “Father, I told you this was a mistake.”
“Shut up, Gabrielle,” the alpha said, before looking toward Jase.
It was official. Blythe hated that alpha.
“I’m telling my men to stand down,” the alpha continued. “Shift, and tell me how to get my daughter out.”
Jase didn’t move, and Blythe felt a fierce pride well up in her chest. Her mate didn’t take orders from anyone—he was an alpha in his own right. The alpha sighed.
“Stand down,” the alpha said, “and let him shift and speak. I would appreciate your help, alpha.”
Jase nodded his feline head. The two standing grizzlies remained in their animal forms, but they stood back, looking less menacing than before. That didn’t mean anyone else in the Junkyard trusted them. Stetson moved himself closer to one of them, and his black tail twitched.
A glowing white fog surrounded Jase. Blythe couldn’t see even his outline through the light. Seconds later, the cloud of white faded and Jase stood as a man once more.
“I’m Mitch Sorenson,” the silver-haired man said, “alpha of the Jagged Forest Clan. Tell me how to get my daughter out of there. What magic are you using?”
“I’ll tell you,” Jase said, “but you won’t like the answer.”
“Tell me, dammit,” Sorenson said.
Jase considered him, looking tall and regal despite being naked. “I don’t take orders from you. I’ll tell you on one condition—you must give me your word that the violence ends tonight. You will not send any more people into the Junkyard. Ever.”
“I give you my word,” Sorenson said. “Tell her how to get out.”
Jase turned to the woman, Gabrielle, and spoke. “Find a mate. A true mate. It might not happen immediately. But when you find that person, the two of you will be able to go in and out of the Junkyard as if the boundary doesn’t exist.”
“That’s your answer?” Sorenson bellowed. “Weston and Dallas, kill him.”
Blythe poised to jump off of the RV. She’d take her pipe over there and show that alpha a thing or two, the double-crossing asshole.
“No,” Gabrielle shouted, pointing a finger at Sorenson. “You gave your word, Father. We all heard you. Dallas and Weston, stand down. He can’t control you anymore, not if he doesn’t want to come in here, himself. He’s no longer your alpha. In fact,” she added with a smirk, “he’s no longer my alpha, either.”
Instead of attacking Jase, the two grizzlies shifted into humans.
“I gave you an order,” Sorenson said in a cold, hard voice.
“You’re not our alpha anymore,” one of the men said. “That was the deal. We come in here for you, and we’re free to claim the territory for ourselves.”
At least that settled the question in Blythe’s mind about what their endgame was—it still seemed like a foolish move, but Jase was right. It was beautiful in here. Even though Blythe could get out now, she still planned on staying.
The guy who’d spoken turned to Jase. “The name’s Weston Cruthers. You’re the alpha here?”
Jase nodded.
“I reckon you’re my alpha now, if you’ll have me.”
“Same here,” the other guy said in a gruff voice.
“Hey,” Barnum shouted, startling Blythe. “They can’t just come in here to kill us and then…join us. It ain’t right.”
Blythe watched Jase. He seemed to be considering Barnum’s words, and his dark eyebrows scrunched adorably. He looked at the two men, then the woman.
“The three of you are probationary members of this pride. In two weeks, I’ll make a final decision.”
“I wasn’t killing anyone,” Gabrielle said quietly.
“Standing by and watching ain’t much better,” Barnum said.
“Barnum,” Jase said. “That’s enough.”
“Okay, boss,” Barnum said, and Blythe patted his shoulder.
“Take your dead, and go,” Jase said to the big man on the other side of the line, before he nodded at the new guys. “Shove the bodies over the line.”
Weston and Dallas did as they were told.
Sorenson waved the other goons around him away. “Take our fallen and go back to your cars. I’ll meet you at the estate for the burials.” Then he turned back to Jase. “I want my daughter back. She has plans, she already has a mate.”
“If that were true, she’d be able to leave,” Jase said.
Sorenson frowned, his blue eyes flashing with anger. “I want my daughter back.”
“I want to know something once and for all,” Blythe said, hopping down from the RV and marching over with her pipe. Jase wrapped his arm around her waist and gave her a gentle squeeze. “Why do you want to kill the Junkyard shifters?”
“Everything about this crowd existing is wrong,” Sorenson spat. “Prison is too good for you.”
Blythe looked around at the men with her. Wrong? Hell, no. These men were her friends, and one was her mate. She loved these guys like family. And this…this asshole had the gall to come in here and say their very existence was wrong? Fuck that.
“If anybody deserves to be in prison,” Blythe said, “it’s you. You’re worse than anyone in here. Now say goodbye to your daughter, and go home.”
The alpha looked from Blythe over to Gabrielle, his daughter. He didn’t speak, just shook his head and walked away.
“Dad!” Gabrielle yelled.
He didn’t turn around.
The anguish on Gabrielle’s face was patent, but what struck Blythe was that there was no sense of surprise, no shock or betrayal. She fully expected her father to abandon her.
Blythe had thought her own upbringing was rough. But this was a whole different level of horrid. She bowed her head against Jase’s chest, trying to erase the sight from her mind of Gabrielle’s pain-filled face.
Then she remembered the lion on the ground. “Konrad!”
She and Jase disentangled from each other and rushed to the fallen mountain lion. Blythe wasn’t half as fast as Jase, who reached Konrad’s body first.
“He’s going to be fine,” he said, pointing at the faintly rising and falling chest.
Blythe sagged against him. “Thank goodness.”
One by one, the other Junkyard shifters were surrounded in faint light, and they emerged in their human forms. They all sported injuries in various states of healing. They were all very naked, too. Blythe figured she’d have to get used to that.
“No casualties on our side,” Blythe murmured to Jase, keeping her gaze away from all the dicks.
Jase kissed her temple. “All that fighting we do has paid off.”
She shook her head and smiled.
Gabrielle, Dallas, and Weston watched everyone else disperse. They looked awkward and unsure of themselves.
“Where do we sleep?” Weston asked.
“Go with Markowicz, over there,” Jase said, pointing to Ronan. “He’ll show you where you can haul some scraps around and make yourselves dens. I think there’s some space near the fighting ring.”
Gabrielle walked to the gravel boundary and pressed her hand against the invisible wall. Sighing, she said, “I’m not a fighter. I don’t belong here.”
Blythe wished she could help her, but Blythe was on Barnum’s side—Gabrielle had stood by and done nothing while her father ordered the Junkyard shifters slaughtered.
“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for bringing you in here,” Jase said to her.
Gabrielle closed her eyes, shook her head. Blythe’s heart went out to the woman—she looked angry and devastated all at once.
“I’m Jase,” he said. “This is my mate, Blythe.” Jase held out a hand to the blond woman.
She stared at him, hard, then shook it. “I’m Gabrielle.”
Blythe shook her hand next. “I’m sorry about the circumstances, but welcome to the Junkyard, Gabrielle. Maybe it can be a home for you, too.”
Gabrielle sent a distasteful glance around her. “I have a home alr
eady, and I’ll return to it soon. I’m sure my father is already on the phone with a coven representative.”
Blythe hoped for Gabrielle’s sake that it would work, but she personally had her doubts. The witches hadn’t even bothered to help Blythe or Jessica out—and they were innocent humans. Still, she gave Gabrielle a supportive smile.
“I know a trailer where you can sleep,” Blythe said. “Barnum can take you there.”
Barnum frowned. “I don’t want to—”
“Pretty please?” Blythe said.
“Fine,” Barnum said, pouting.
As Barnum and Gabrielle walked away, Jase spun Blythe around to face him. “How the hell did you get Barnum to change his mind on that? And supposedly he’s a feminist now?”
Blythe looked up at Jase, drinking in the beauty of his mismatched eyes. “The poor guy was brainwashed into violence. We had some deep discussions while fishing. He’s not completely cured of his misogynistic ways, but we’ve made progress in understanding each other. He’s not a bad guy.”
“You truly are a miracle, you know that?”
His hands were warm through her sweatshirt, and he dipped his head to hers. Blythe opened her mouth for him, accepting his kiss, thinking that the true miracle was Jase, and the fact his heart had chosen hers. All her life, she’d felt unlucky, but everything had changed.
26
Jase watched with satisfaction while his pride of Junkyard shifters assembled the tables and put on dishes of food they’d brought from their ice chests. Ephraimson was distributing mason jars of moonshine to everyone who would take one. Markowicz stood at the grill, drinking from his own mason jar and waving a spatula around animatedly while he told a bemused Stetson about the best ways to grill fish.
Blythe waltzed over to Jase, two jars of moonshine in her hands. “I got you something,” she said.
He reached for her ass. “Is it here?”
“Shut up, creeper,” she said with a laugh, and shoved a jar into his hand. “Let’s toast a peaceful-ish Junkyard.”
Three days had passed since the showdown with the Jagged Forest Clan. Dallas, Weston, and Gabrielle had settled in, although Gabrielle wasn’t currently speaking to anyone. She’d holed herself up in the trailer at the northern boundary and had told Jase she’d show up on Sunday to get her ice chest.
Blythe had tried talking to her, as well, but she reported to Jase that friendship would be a long time in forming, if it happened at all. “She’s just not interested,” Blythe had said. “But I told her when she’s ready, I’m here.”
As for Dallas and Weston, or the “Cruthers Brothers,” as everyone called them, they’d taken to their probationary status as new members of the pride. The probationary thing was in name only—it wasn’t like they could go anywhere else and start a new clan. So far, they’d been helpful and seemed to get along with the rest of the pride, more or less. Conflicts were solved with fists or fangs, as was the way of the Junkyard. As long as nobody died, Jase could live with that.
Blythe and Jase, for their part, had gone out for ice cream. Jase had some money saved up from his furniture making business, so he was able to treat her to the most decadent sundae available. He also got himself a truck, and now he could do his own furniture deliveries and shipments.
The best purchase by far, though, was a laptop for Blythe. They couldn’t access the internet, this far out in the middle of nowhere, but they could make weekly trips into the nearest town for ice cream and wifi.
Barnum made his way over to them, a plate of food in his hand. He stuffed a giant piece of a roll in his mouth, chewed, then swallowed. “I can’t believe you two are staying here. In the Junkyard. I’d be running away first chance, moving to Alaska, and buying a boat.”
“Alaska?” Blythe asked. “Really?”
He shrugged. “I like the cold. But seriously, why are you hanging around?”
“Everything I want is here,” Blythe said, looking up at Jase.
He grinned back down at her, his heart warming in his chest. “And everything I want is right here,” he said.
Barnum grumbled something about lovebirds and skulked away, scratching his ass as he went.
“So you taught him feminism,” Jase murmured in Blythe’s ear. “Do you think you can teach him manners?”
She laughed and dragged Jase over to fill some plates with food. In a careful voice, she said, “Have you written back to your mom yet?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Oh good. I didn’t want to nag you, but…”
“But you wanted to nag me,” he said, grinning. “I don’t mind. You’re right, I should make more of an effort if she’s trying. Do you want to meet her? I invited her to have dinner with us in Sierraville.”
“What, seriously?” Blythe said. “I’d love to meet her. I hope she likes me.”
“She’s going to love you. Just like I do.”
While they loaded macaroni salad, chips, and hamburgers onto their plates, Blythe nodded over at Ephraimson, who was arguing with Buenevista. “What’s going on over there?”
Jase turned his head so he could better hear them over the loud chatter of everyone else. Rolling his eyes, he said, “Buenevista’s trying to get an extra mug of moonshine from Ephraimson. He says he wants to give it to Gabrielle.”
“He just wants extra liquor. We all know it’d be a miracle if she even opens the door for him,” Blythe said. “Oh look, Noah’s falling for it.”
Sure enough, Ephraimson begrudgingly handed an extra mason jar to Buenevista, who nodded his thanks.
Jase and Blythe sat down near Stetson to eat. Stetson closed his book and greeted them, then dove into his own previously neglected plate with gusto.
Blythe pointed at Stetson’s book. “You’re reading a literature textbook?”
Stetson shrugged and said, “Yeah. It’s a good primer, has some nice stories in it.”
“Do you want me to get you some more books, next time I’m in town?” Blythe asked.
“No, thanks,” Stetson said. “I like the library. I borrow books, and sometimes I send in a few dollars for a surprise bag of books they’re selling to raise money.”
“That’s really cool,” Blythe said.
Jase listened to the two of them talk books for a bit. Once he was done eating, he found his guitar in his workshop and brought it out. He didn’t sing, but he liked stringing chords together, and sooner rather than later, their little dinner was a sleepy, quiet affair.
Stetson packed up his book and took care of his plate. “See you later.”
Slowly, everyone else cleaned up their things and made their way to their own dens. Dallas and Weston were on primary clean-up duty, although once they were off probationary status, Blythe had created a schedule so the cleaning duties would fall on a rotation. She had decided these group dinners would be a weekly tradition, with no fighting allowed. Jase approved.
“You ready for bed?” Blythe asked Jase in a quiet voice, a sparkle in her eye.
He set down his guitar and pulled her into his lap. “I’m ready for something,” he growled against her neck.
Blythe giggled—a carefree sound that made Jase’s chest feel full and happy. He nuzzled her neck, kissing and biting, and soon her giggling turned to gasps and quiet moans.
Dallas and Weston were gone, the clean-up finished. Jase sent his hand along the edge of Blythe’s sweatshirt, searching for the bare skin of her tummy.
Blythe turned slightly and reached between them to grip his half-hard cock through his jeans.
“I can tell you’re ready,” she said. “I’m ready, too.”
“Are you, now.” He didn’t make it a question, and instead turned her around so she faced outward on his lap.
Nobody was around; he would sense them, if they were. They were out of sight of any of the dens. He wondered how Blythe would react to a little public display of affection. From this angle, it was easy to unbutton her jeans and slide his hand down the front, into her panties.
“Mmm, Jase,” she said.
His fingers met the slick wetness of her pussy. He slid them back and forth, spreading her arousal, enjoying the way she moved her hips in the hope of directing his hand. He gently bit the edge of her ear, then kissed away the sting. She gripped his arm and tried to move him more directly. That wouldn’t do, he thought. Pulling his hand from her panties, he gripped both her wrists, then brought her hands to his knees.
“Hold tight, beautiful. Every time you let go and try to take control? I stop. Okay?”
She wriggled a little and huffed, “Fine.”
While he kissed her ear and neck, he put his hand in her panties again, delving his fingers through her folds. He relished the soft sounds she made as he moved. He kept up his kisses on her neck and ear and pressed a finger inside of her.
She went rigid in his lap. “Oh, Jase.”
With his free hand, he went under her shirt and cupped one of her breasts, squeezing and pinching one nipple, then the other, as he pumped his finger inside of her. She gasped and her hips started to buck against him. Every one of her movements pressed her ass against his aching cock. He wanted to flip her forward, yank down her jeans, and slide into her, right here, without any care over who might come out of his den to see them. But fingering her with her clothes on would be easy enough to hide if someone happened by. Having her half-naked was more of a risk than he was willing to take. Not with his mate.
She shuddered and whimpered, then went completely tense in his arms. He slowed down his hand and lazily moved in and out of her pussy, enjoying the way she squeezed him as her orgasm faded.
Finally, she went limp against him.
“Mm, that was good,” she said. “But I’m ready for more.”
“You’re still not satisfied?” Jase asked. “I just gave you an orgasm…”
“I want your cock,” she whispered.
“Then let’s go.” He stood up with her, then noticed a white piece of paper lying on the ground beneath the repaired Adirondack chair Stetson had been sitting in. It must have fallen from his book. He set Blythe down and walked over to it.