Hunting Wolf: Black Mesa Wolves #3

by Harper, J. K.

  Still restless, she walked around the store. Arranging and re-arranging the displays and clothes always soothed her. The middle of the day was usually quiet, and she'd sent the assistant clerk home about an hour ago, so she had the place to herself. Touching the silky, pretty fabrics always made her feel elegant, as if she lived in a castle surrounded by luxury. The plush carpeting beneath her feet added to the luxurious feel of the store, and she reveled in it as she slowly walked around her charming little castle.

  A castle without a prince.

  “Oh, snap out of it,” she muttered at herself. “Just because you can't get a date.”

  Shaking her head a little, she wondered for a moment if this was how crazy old cat ladies got started: they talked out loud to themselves about their lack of a dating life, which in itself pointed out why they couldn't get a guy to buy them a drink.

  Besides, it wasn't like she couldn't get a date. Of course she could get a date. Guys smiled at her all the time. They gave her appreciative looks when she wore her cutest tops, or when they waited in line behind her at the coffeeshop.

  Well...they never actually asked her out. Sure, she smiled back if they seemed like the right kind of guy—thoughtful, smart, ambitious without being cutthroat—but it never led anywhere.

  She hadn't been on a date since high school. Here she was now, almost 24 years old, and she hadn't been on a date in six years. Well, okay, she'd been on a few dates. They just hadn't been real dates. More like study meet-ups, group outings her few college friends had dragged her to and which always ended with her almost out of her skull from boredom most of the evening. One memorable time, there had been the date with that shifter from the central New Mexico pack. Her parents had strong-armed her into meeting him because her mother had known his mother back in the day. They both thought it would be so sweet if their offspring got together.

  That wolf had shown up covered in tattoos and sporting an eyebrow piercing. Just another big guy, all muscle and tough attitude but no class. All he'd wanted to talk about were his aspirations to be a Guardian for his pack, his gym workouts, and that Rielle was a lot more girly than the female wolves he usually met. Definitely not a match made in heaven.

  Another strong image of Caleb bounced into her head. First his wolf form, then human. In each image, he was grinning and just looked so—very intriguing. An image of him loping through the desert night slipped through as well.

  Rielle rubbed her forehead, feeling the frown creasing it as she paced the store. Fine. Maybe if she went on a good, hard, long run, not only would her wolf go back to being quiet and settled down, but she'd also be able to get rid of that big, clueless male wolf who kept running in circles around her thoughts.

  A welter of images pattered at her mind, so sudden and overwhelming she closed her eyes.

  Caleb, arguing as fiercely as he dared with the Alpha during a Pack meeting about the rogues. His face animated, his body energy wild and rough, with his wolf's tension obviously lurking just beneath the surface as he paced the room.

  Caleb, heading out on patrol from the den one day when Rielle was there attending to historian business. Big, muscled, taking up more than half the space as he'd approached her. He never seemed dangerous to her, though. Just so at ease in his own body, so fluid in his movements. He'd nodded at her in the hallway, blue eyes friendly, then stopped to ask with genuine curiosity if being the Pack's historian was interesting. Did she get to read about battles a lot? Oh, and did she want to go on a run later with him and some of the others? She'd said no, of course, but the memory of the longing that tugged at her stayed fresh in her memory as if it had happened this morning.

  Caleb, the first time he had to make a presentation at a Pack meeting. Standing in front of the room full of shifters in the den's meeting room, thirty-odd wolves sprawled all over the place, watching him as he stumbled through his words. She remembered his stiff posture, the way his eyes kept flicking toward the Alpha, his father, as if to check his own progress by watching his father's observation of the scene. Since Rielle could never stand for anyone to be suffering, even if it was just from a fear of public speaking, she'd sent out a bare tendril of her Pack bond to Caleb, putting as much of her own calming energy into it as she could. She'd known he felt it when his eyes found her. He watched her the rest of the time. His words had evened out, come more surely, as Rielle supported him throughout his presentation.

  Afterward, he'd come up and awkwardly thanked her. They'd both been in high school then. Rielle remembered trying to cover her annoying pimples—if only shifter genes could conquer those socially demoralizing little things!—with one hand while trying to suavely accept his thanks.

  Of course, he'd stepped on her foot when he turned to leave. Even so, she remembered how touched he'd seemed that she'd lent him some of her soothing presence. He'd already been pretty strapping at that age, towering over her. For a wolf that big to be so gentle to her was something she'd remembered.

  “Hmm,” she said aloud. She fussed harder with a mannequin's dress.

  Her phone's tinkling ring coming from behind the sales counter sent her hurrying back to it. The choices of who would be calling her while she was at work were limited, but right now she needed the distraction.

  She fished around in her favorite purse (Coach, of course, a gorgeous soft leather in shades of coral, ginger, and cocoa, big enough she could practically stuff herself into it) and pulled out the small, almost annoyingly cheerful device. Maybe it was time to change that ring tone.

  When she looked at the screen, she almost dropped the phone. The name CALEB BARDOU flashed at her, demanding to be answered.

  ~

  Caleb crashed into the mat, hard, and rolled onto his back wheezing and gasping for air.

  “You sure didn't see that move coming, did you?” Rafe asked in that deceptively mild tone he used a lot. Big brother stood over him, hands on hips, shaking his head as Caleb lay there like a landed fish. He couldn't even find the air to answer yet.

  “You've been training like a maniac for months now. Where's your concentration today?”

  Caleb gave his brother a simple reply that involved one of his fingers as he lay there trying to make his lungs work again. Rafe snorted out a chuckle.

  Foolish, his wolf rumbled in his head. Yeah, that was true enough. He worked out hard and trained harder to prevent exactly this sort of situation in real life: a rogue getting the drop on him somewhere. Those tricky bastards were out there, and they were plotting something. Maybe Alpha didn't want to see it, maybe he wanted to play kumbaya with them all, but Caleb wasn't buying it for a second. Rogues were rogue for a reason, and it wasn't because they liked to play nice with well-ordered packs.

  “You need to keep a cool head when fighting, Caleb.” Rafe's mild voice nevertheless held a warning.

  Still too winded to reply, Caleb shook his head and glared as ferociously as he could while still trying to gasp. The time for a cool head was over. The rogues wanted to play dirty? Fine with him. Rafe could be the cool head in the pack. Caleb's was on fire, and he liked it that way.

  His wolf growled in enthusiastic agreement.

  Rafe's lips twisted in the way Caleb knew meant disapproval. He didn't care. Rafe was his alpha. He was very close to leaving anyway, to go start his new pack. Caleb only had to answer to the Black Mesa Alpha. So far, his father hadn't said anything specific about his actions, except that he wasn't to go after any rogues just yet. As soon as that order was lifted, though, he planned to start his own battles.

  Rafe raised an eyebrow at Caleb and shifted direction. “Late night again for you, wasn't it? Don't tell me you're distracted by a woman.”

  His brother's satisfied smile made Caleb want to hurl a bit. Ever since Rafe had finally managed to convince Sara she was his mate, he'd been impossibly smug and deeply happy.

  Caleb wanted his siblings to be happy. Of course he did. But right there was an example of how women made you soft. Rafe, Mr. Cool-and-Collected, w
as in la-la land half the time these days. And Caleb? Well, fine. He could admit he'd sort of been picturing the soft lips of a dark, sweet little female wolf—right before Rafe had surprised him with that beautiful flying guard pull.

  “Hell, no,” he finally managed to get out. Rolling over, he pushed himself onto all fours and breathed again a few times before standing up. Getting the wind knocked out of yourself was a bitch. “That's your thing.”

  Rafe laughed, although he kept a speculative gaze on Caleb. “If you say so.” Rafe shrugged and went to grab his water bottle.

  Damn it. Rafe was always pretty good at reading others. Between him and Rielle, Caleb might never be able to keep any secrets to himself.

  Not that thinking about Rielle was a secret. There was nothing there. No secret, nothing going on. Just lips. Soft, moist, cute little lips. And maybe that sassy way she'd behaved around him. And the way she got mad at him. Man, he managed to piss her off pretty easily. It was a gift.

  “Ah,” he said in disgust, throwing up his hands. He stalked over to his towel and wiped off his face and arms. The summer heat couldn't reach inside the perfectly climate-controlled den, but just knowing it was out there had made him sweat extra hard during this session. “Fine. It's a woman. Sort of. It's stupid, bro.”

  Rafe eyed him above the water bottle he still drank from, but didn't respond. Classic Rafe tactic, there. Just shut up until the enemy squawked out of a desperate need to fill the silence.

  “And it's not what you think. She's not a woman, not like that.” Caleb paced.

  Rafe sputtered on his water. After he managed to swallow without choking, he asked, “What is she, then? An alien?”

  Caleb moved restlessly through the gym, passing by the punching bags, the weights, the elliptical. He'd spent thousands of hours in here since he was a cub, and he loved every single second. It was his sanctuary. His one saving grace. Sometimes, he thought the state-of-the-art equipment he used to help hone his body into a fighting machine understood him more than any wolf actually could.

  “Nah,” he finally said. “It's—it's one of us. I mean, she's a Pack member.”

  “Really?” Despite his dry tone, Rafe was interested and listening. He dropped onto a bench and watched his brother closely.

  “Yeah, but it's not like that, like I said. She's freaking pissed at me for no good reason. Well,” Caleb amended, remembering Rielle's snapping brown eyes, “she might have had a reason or two. Maybe even three. She's always like this to me, though, and I don't get it!”

  His wolf sensed Caleb's sudden aggrieved tone and whined in sympathy.

  “What exactly happened?” Rafe's big brother, alpha-to-be voice came out in full glory.

  Caleb punched out a sigh, then took off in a sprint around the room. He circled twice, running hard, before stopping back at the mat. Flopping down on it as he felt his heart race, he exhaled. Any motion calmed him and made his thoughts less crazy, easier to harness and control. Sort of.

  Rafe waited. It was one of the reasons he would make a kickass alpha in the new pack he was setting up. Rafe was alpha material to the core, through and through.

  Caleb was—Guardian material, at least. He wasn't sure yet what else he might be great at, if anything.

  “It's Ree. Rielle Amoux.” Even just saying her name out loud made her image pop into his mind. That smile, those sweet brown eyes. “I keep, like, running into her. And over her. And just making her mad, or something.”

  Caleb shot a look at Rafe. Rafe's face remained solemn, although a tiny muscle might have twitched by his mouth.

  “Well, she's so small,” Caleb said defensively. “She's sort of easy to trip over.”

  Now Rafe did laugh out aloud. He stood up and began a post-workout stretching routine while he talked. “Rielle is a small wolf, yes. She's really smart, too.” Rafe eyed Caleb as he sank into a runner's stretch. “She's always kind of intimidated you, hasn't she? I remember that even when we were cubs.”

  Caleb bounded up from his prone position on the mat. His wolf's hackles raised at the confused distress emanating from Caleb's body and mind.

  “Intimidated?” Caleb's voice boomed around the room. He shifted from foot to foot, feeling agitation ricochet through him. “What, are you nuts? Nothing intimidates me. I'm the biggest wolf in the Pack.”

  That wasn't bragging. It was sheer truth.

  Rafe shrugged and switched to his other leg. “Yes, you are. So,” he smoothly went on. “Tell me more about how you insulted Rielle this time.”

  Yep, Rafe was going to make a fantastic alpha, all right.

  Caleb sighed and relaxed a bit. His wolf relaxed, too, settling down onto his haunches as he realized Caleb was bristling for no truly threatening reason. “Ah, I don't know. She thinks I'm some sort of throwback to caveman times, or something. She always has.” His tone was rueful as he acknowledged that. “But it's not like I ever go out of my way to bother her, or anything. Heck, I hardly ever see her. She barely ever comes around here.”

  Rafe nodded thoughtfully. “She should, though,” he said. “Especially these days, with the rogues pulling their stunts. She's not as well-trained as a Guardian.”

  “Right.” Caleb tilted his head side to side, cracking his neck. He grunted with relief as the muscles there loosened some. “That's what I told her, when I was trying to walk her home last night. She wasn't having any of it.”

  “You walked her home last night? Did you have a date with her?”

  “No!”

  Rafe appeared mildly surprised at Caleb's vigorous tone.

  “I mean, no,” Caleb said, trying for a softer voice. It made him sound like a drowning fish. His wolf lolled his tongue in amusement, and Caleb internally rolled his eyes back. Yeah, he didn't do “soft” very well.

  “I ran into her outside that store she manages in town.” He paused, remembering again how soft Rielle had felt for those moments he'd held her with his hands. She happened to do soft very well.

  His wolf cocked his head and nudged at Caleb's mind. Caleb got an image again of Rielle's wolf, although it seemed very faded. His wolf whined a bit, seeming confused. Huh.

  “I dunno. We talked, I pissed her off, she wouldn't let me walk her home. The end.”

  “You let her walk home alone at night?” Rafe frowned.

  “She stomped off. Said she could take care of herself. I tracked her to her door, though, and made sure she got inside safely.” Caleb shrugged. “I didn't scent anything out of the ordinary in town, but better safe than sorry. She didn't even realize I was behind her. I think Alpha needs to forbid her to do that anymore.”

  Rafe huffed out a small laugh from his seat on the bench and shook his head. “You definitely don't understand women if you think that would ever work.”

  “He's her Alpha. She'd have to listen.” Caleb's voice sandpapered through the room. His wolf sat up again at the aggravation vibrating through Caleb's body. “And I understand women just fine,” he added, knowing he sounded defensive again, even though he wasn't sure why.

  “Caleb.” Rafe's voice was patient but not demeaning. “If there's really and truly any danger, Alpha will tell her she needs to be on alert. Or he'll even call her back to the den for a while. He knows what he's doing.”

  “Yeah, well, she doesn't,” Caleb said before he knew what would come out of his mouth. He paused in surprise. Where had that come from?

  Rafe was laughing at him again, although not in a mocking way. It was the sort of laughter that said, Oh, shit, brother. You're going down hard.

  “What the hell,” Caleb muttered.

  Rafe tossed a towel toward him, which Caleb caught in easy, automatic reflex. “You should call her. Apologize a bit. Maybe even grovel.”

  “What?” Caleb swiped viciously at himself with the towel. “Grovel? So I ran her over. I apologized already, and she didn't like it. And I groveled then. I don't need to grovel again. Grovel,” he muttered, even though doing just that was part of his game plan
when things were about to go kablooie with any woman. He sure wasn't going to let Rafe know that, though. “What the hell.”

  Voice carefully thoughtful, Rafe said, “You could even ask her out.”

  This time Caleb half-howled his response. “What? No! Are you crazy?” At the same time, though, his wolf pushed against his mind with a sudden jab of excitement. Dammit, that was confusing.

  “Well,” Rafe said in that reasonable tone, “I'm pretty sure she's not dating anyone. I don't even think she dates.”

  “How do you know so much about her?” Caleb demanded, narrowing his eyes at his brother a bit. He could feel his wolf shining out of his eyes with a possessive light. He still didn't understand it, but he felt it boiling through him. His wolf wanted Caleb to call Rielle, ask her out, and not take no for an answer.

  “Dammit,” he said, half under his breath.

  “I've known Ree as long as you have,” Rafe said with a shrug. “Besides, Sara's bumped into her in town a few times. She told me Rielle isn't dating anyone.”

  The word yet hung between them.

  “You could kill a few birds with one stone this way. Ask her out as Packmates.”

  Caleb perked up his ears at that suggestion. Hmm. She would probably go for that.

  “Apologize for your absolutely uncouth behavior—”

  “Hey!”

  “—and just suggest you meet in town for a glass of wine.”

  “Wine? Who drinks wine?” Caleb stalked away from his crazy brother. Striding toward the window, he gazed over the huge pines and green grasses all over the Pack's property. His wolf surged forward again, pushing the vision of a run strongly into Caleb's mind. Yes. Definitely. Tonight.

  “After she's had a glass or two of wine in her, and of course after you've apologized sufficiently for your bad manners—”

  “Point taken already, o wise one.”

  “—she'll be relaxed enough to be honest about why she's so prickly with you.” Rafe's voice sounded so much like their calm yet authoritative father's Caleb had to shake his head to clear his ears. “You're packmates, after all. There can be no friction between two of you, especially not right now with the pack on high alert because of the rogues.”