by RJ Blain
Wendy smiled. “Most Fenerec adore children. Charles and I have two daughters; they’re twins. We… had to try several times before they were born. Mated couples may never have any children of their own because it’s difficult for us to have puppies, but we adore them all the same. When Fenerec want to become doctors or teachers, they work with the youngest of children, because all of our instincts are to nurture and protect them. A birth in the pack is very special. Large packs with strong Alphas have better chances of having puppies, but that doesn’t change how special a birth is.”
I wanted to know if Sanders wanted children, but I wasn’t brave enough to ask. My wolf wanted to know as well, but I won the battle between us.
With a low groan, Wendy got to her feet. Our eyes met, and she held out her hand. “Come on, Sara. Let me trot you out there before the males worry. You have a lot to learn, but you have the time to learn it now. Just let us take care of you. Sanders is a really good catch, if you can sink your teeth into him.”
“Sink my teeth into him?” I asked at my wolf’s insistence.
Wendy blinked at me. “Your wolf really is a puppy, isn’t she? Oh my. Maybe you have even more you need to learn than I thought.”
Chapter Eight
I hid behind Wendy, which was a feat in and of itself since I was quite a bit taller than her. With Desmond and Sanders both staring at me, I lost all of my courage, as did my wolf. I was embarrassed, and my wolf was too tired and hungry to rise to their challenge.
“Charles, will you be a darling and order something for Sara? She’s hungry,” Wendy said, twisting around to grab my arm and pull me out of hiding. “Come on, dear. Go sit on the couch with Sanders. He makes a nice bodyguard. He’ll also keep you nice and warm.”
Desmond got up and headed for the room’s landline, grabbing the room service menu from the table. “What should I order?”
“Fish,” Wendy replied, pausing a moment. “May as well get any other seafood on the menu. See what’s suitable for a vegetarian.”
“For a vegetarian?” Halting, Desmond whirled around to face me. “You used to be a vegetarian?”
Smothered by Desmond’s stare, I recoiled, and my wolf encouraged me to take shelter with Sanders. I obeyed, sitting on the other end of the couch. My wolf wanted me to slide over to the man she wanted as our mate, but I resisted, aware of what Wendy had told me about his mate’s death.
Sanders watched me, his amber eyes bright.
Claiming one of the armchairs, Wendy sat down. “Charles, you may as well order something for the rest of us while you’re at it.”
“Yes, dear.” Sighing, Desmond grabbed a notepad and started writing down a list, which he then carried into an adjacent room, closing the door behind him.
“He can’t keep you warm if you are sitting all the way over there. One of you will need to move.” Wendy smirked at me. “Don’t be shy.”
“Wendy, you’re terrible. Don’t pressure her,” Sanders muttered.
“I’m simply taking care of the young puppy appropriately, and younglings need to be kept warm and well fed after trying ordeals. You are the most suitable individual to keep her warm.”
Judging from Sanders’s scowl, he wasn’t convinced. “You’re playing matchmaker.”
“A secondary motivation, albeit a pleasant one. She really should stay warm. I don’t feel like sharing Charles at this moment in time; therefor, it is your responsibility.”
Once again, I noticed the odd way Wendy held herself, her tone confident and sure, although her eyes never rose higher than Sanders’s chin.
I met his gaze, puzzled by why she wouldn’t look him in the eyes. The color, so vibrant and golden-yellow, held me captive. For a brief moment, he smiled, and my wolf basked in his approval.
“You’re going to thrall her at the rate you’re going, you naughty Alpha,” Wendy murmured, her tone satisfied.
The smile I so liked faded, and Sanders sighed. “Desmond, please control your mate.”
Desmond emerged from the adjacent room, shaking his head. “No, I don’t think so. I’ll go steal his blanket, Wendy.”
Heading down the other hallway, Desmond returned after a couple of minutes carrying a duvet, which he dumped on Wendy’s lap. Leaning over me, he smiled, slipped one hand under my knees and the other behind my back, and, with a grunt, he tossed me towards Sanders, who caught me before I could fall off the couch.
I gasped at how easily Desmond moved me.
My wolf delighted in the feel of Sanders’s arms around me. Taking the blanket from Wendy, Desmond tossed it at me. It landed on my lap. With a sigh, Sanders grabbed it and spread it over me.
It smelled like Sanders, and my wolf made me breathe deeply several times to savor the scent.
“I apologize for them. They like situating everything to their liking,” Sanders murmured.
“It’s okay. I don’t mind.”
My wolf was confident they didn’t have a taste for strippers, which made it easier to relax—and let me believe I was safe, at least for the moment. I settled on the couch next to Sanders. There was something to Wendy’s appropriate treatment of puppies. So close to Sanders and under the soft, thick duvet, I warmed up and the tension flowed out of me. Leaning against him, I tucked my feet up on the couch, stifling a yawn.
“So?” Desmond asked, returning to his chair.
“She knows absolutely nothing about Fenerec,” Wendy announced. “Go ahead and hide with Sanders if it makes you and your wolf feel better, Sara. I know this is hard on you. It’s as you thought, Charles. She was definitely attacked; there wasn’t a ritual at all, at least not one she noticed. She was their prey. One of them appears to have been a vengeful ex-boyfriend who decided if he couldn’t have her, no one could. If they weren’t a part of the rogue pack we’re hunting, I’ll be very surprised. There were two of them, and they’re both dead.”
Wendy drew a deep breath, sighed, and whispered, “They didn’t bother with killing her before they started to eat.”
Pulling me closer to him, Sanders growled long and low.
Desmond muttered, “Likely those two we found.”
“So it seems,” Wendy agreed.
Echoing Sanders’s growl, Desmond leaned forward, rubbing his temples. “In the Inquisition’s eyes, she’ll be classified as a rogue-born unless a pack takes her. I can hide her for a little while, but not long.”
I sniffed, and my wolf identified the bite in the air as anger and disgust. All signs of Sanders’s interest were gone, buried beneath his rage. Uncertain of whether he was angry at me or something else, I tensed.
If I didn’t want to remain a frightened coward, I needed to know what I faced.
“Inquisition? Rogue-born?” I struggled to keep my voice above a whisper. “I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”
Desmond watched me, his brown eyes brightening to yellow. “Fenerec live in family groups called packs. Most major cities and large towns have packs, ranging from five to a hundred plus members. Sanders has a larger pack, consisting of almost a hundred wolves. Due to the violent nature of our kind—and the violent nature of many supernaturals—we’re all policed by an organization called the Inquisition. I am a member, as are Wendy and Sanders. Most Fenerec from official packs are members, although few are required to become operatives. All Alphas are called in to help the Inquisition from time to time. It’s our job to keep Normals ignorant about our kind. It’s also our job to protect Normals from Fenerec and the other supernatural.”
Sighing, Sanders rested his cheek against the top of my head. The scent of his fury eased. Relieved, I closed my eyes and snuggled into the blanket’s warmth.
Desmond stretched his legs, making a thoughtful noise in his throat. “Rogues are Fenerec who live outside of one of the packs. Some rogues are ignored, as they aren’t a threat and do society good. So, a Rogue-born is a Fenerec, like yourself, who was changed into one of us outside of the Inquisition.”
“Desmond is press
uring me to bring you into my pack because you’ll fall off the Inquisition’s radar. You being Rogue-born becomes a non-issue. They, wicked beasts they are, are pressuring me to mate with you, as if you’re my mate, the Inquisition would treat you like a glass slipper.”
“Why?”
Desmond snorted. “Sorry, Sanders, but it’s best if she knows. The Inquisition failed to protect Mary, his mate, who died earlier this year. Because they allowed a sorcerer to escape them, she was murdered,” Desmond paused to growl something under his breath. “The sorcerer attacked the hospital where she worked, killing her and a few other nurses before he escaped. We’ve been hunting him ever since. As the Alpha of one of North America’s largest packs, Sanders’s situation is of importance to the Inquisition. In addition to hunting the sorcerer, I have been tasked with pairing Sanders with a suitable bitch. Seeing as he also lacks a witch, I am to consider potential candidates on that front as well.”
With each word, Desmond made me realize just how ignorant I was. “Sorcerers? Witches? Why a suitable bitch? Why can’t he pick who he wants?”
Sanders growled, flexing his hands. While he kept me tucked under his arm, he trembled, and his scent soured with what my wolf believed was dismay, grief, and unhappiness.
“Losing a mate is difficult, Sara. Wendy isn’t my first mate. When your mate dies, it feels like a part of you has been cut out. It hurts. It’s physical, it’s emotional, and it’s mental. Some Fenerec need years to recover from their mate’s death. Sanders is an Alpha. He doesn’t have the luxury of years. Next moon, his pack will rut, and he’ll rut right along with them because he’s the heart of his pack. He’s aware of each and every wolf he’s responsible for. He’s picked up Richard’s habit of bringing Normal mates into the pack bonds as well, so he’ll get a double dose of it. It’s his first rut since Mary’s death. That means he’ll be hit extremely hard by it.”
Sanders turned his head to face the wall, but I caught a glimpse of his reddened face.
“What do you mean by ‘hit extremely hard?’” I demanded.
“In short, any lady who wants to try to land him for life will take him to bed with her, whether he likes it or not.”
I flushed. “It’s really like that?”
“It is,” Wendy confirmed. “It’ll be that way until he establishes a mating bond with someone.”
“So what are witches and sorcerers? You don’t mean pointy hats and scary ladies with warts and cauldrons, do you?”
“Hardly. While I’m sure some witches may find a use for a cauldron, they’re individuals aligned with an element who can work magic. Air, water, earth, and fire. Fire is the most common type. It’d take hours to explain, but here’s the quick and dirty version: witches have the ability to form bonds with Fenerec, helping us to control some of our more violent instincts.”
“And sorcerers?”
“Sorcerers,” Desmond snarled, stretching his fingers out before clenching his hands into fists. “I’ve never met a good sorcerer. They gather power from the strength of emotions. I hope you never meet one, Sara. They’re the supernatural equivalent of a terrorist; the more fear and pain he causes, the more power he gains.”
Room service saved us all from the awkward silence, and unlike at the buffet, Desmond, Wendy, and Sanders left me with the lion’s share of the food without any sign of competition. My wolf didn’t object to fish like the other Fenerec did, although she did complain at the methodical way I checked for bones. The other Fenerec preferred red meats, which likewise captured my wolf’s attention.
“Why don’t you like fish?” I asked between bites. Working my way through the first two plates of fish and rice had satisfied my wolf and my aching stomach enough I no longer felt the need to inhale my food.
“Bones,” Wendy replied, wrinkling her nose. “Our son-in-law has a very bad relationship with fish.”
Laughing, Desmond shook his head. “Without fail, he attempts to eat fish as a wolf and chokes on it, forcing someone to yank the bloody thing out of his throat. He can’t help himself. He sees a fish and all of his common sense abandons him. You’ll like him.”
“She better not,” Sanders muttered.
“Ignore him, Sara. He’s just jealous because Richard’s one of the prettiest men alive and he can’t compete with such a fine man,” Wendy informed me with a smirk.
I sniffed, took another bite of my fish, and said with as much dignity as I could muster, “I am not interested in pretty boys, if you must know. I prefer men with a little bit of a rough edge, who are tall, dark, and handsome. I don’t like looking down my nose at my dates.”
Giggling, Wendy fetched a pair of plates from the table, setting one of them in front of me. “It looks like you’re safe, Sanders. I can think of a few other men in your pack that are unmated and worth a second look at,” she teased.
Sanders grumbled something under his breath.
“Well, if Sanders decides to be stubborn, the least I can do is set up some interviews with some eligible males,” Desmond said, setting his fork down before staring at me. “Even if you don’t establish a mating bond with someone, the attempt will take a bit of the edge off. At least permit us to make your introduction to the rut as pleasant for you as possible. Who is your type, dear?”
The new dish proved to be lobster, which pleased me and my wolf. Determined to savor it, I systematically broke the meat into bite-sized chunks. “Maybe I’ll just follow Sanders home and slap any stupid bitches who try to get near him.”
“We do not slap other bitches,” Wendy chided. “Growling, snarling, and snapping your teeth is perfectly acceptable behavior, though. You probably don’t want to try to fight with them over him. You’d lose, simply because you’re a puppy who hasn’t had a chance to learn how to really fight others of our kind. Should you decide to try to follow Sanders home, we have a spare bedroom you’re welcome to use.”
“Maybe you don’t slap other bitches, Wendy, but I seem to recall a few times our daughters have done just that,” Desmond replied, his voice light with amusement. “So, who is your type? I would like to make certain you have the best experience possible and maximize your chances of finding a suitable mate. And yes, you’re more than welcome to use one of our guest rooms should you decide to follow Sanders home and you haven’t already caught him.”
While I considering Desmond’s offer, I sneaked peeks at Sanders. The fact I had seen and liked him before my wolf came around helped. He was my type, and from what I’d seen of his personality, it wasn’t just about his looks.
I’d never considered following anyone home before, not in the way I wanted to chase Sanders. If the Desmonds lived near him, I could move away from Vegas, just like I wanted. My wolf approved of the idea of hunting the one she wanted as her mate—as our mate.
She had no problems with the idea of using Desmond and Wendy as stepping stones to get the male she desired.
“Tall, dark, handsome, doesn’t button his shirt up all the way, pretty eyes, a little bit scruffy,” I said before dipping my lobster in the garlic butter sauce and chomping on it. “Needs to be nice, but not too nice. I don’t want to walk all over my man. I don’t want him walking all over me, either. He has to be able to take care of himself, since I barely manage to take care of myself.” I paused, blushing when I confessed, “I do like when they’re shy and they run away.”
“That would be the wolf in you appreciating the challenge of a hunt,” Wendy commented, and when she smiled, I gawked at her, wondering why anyone, Sanders included, would look at me with her in the room.
Desmond chuckled. “I’m sorry, Sanders, but I’m afraid you’ll just have to let the pretty lady court you all she wants. You’re her type, and I see no reason to deny her the first chance to have you. If you’re wise, you’ll let her court you to keep all of those unwanted bitches off your tail, at least for a little while.”
Groaning, Sanders leaned over and hid his face in his hands. “You’re killing me, Desmond.”
> I stared at Wendy with wide eyes, shocked at the casual way Desmond arranged Sanders’s love life. “Is it really okay to do things like that? I mean, dictate relationships to him. It’s like the Middle Ages, except I don’t have a dowry.”
“Oh, Charles. That could be fun.” Wendy snickered. “Alas, we do not follow that specific tradition. I’m starting to think we should. We could buy him that new Mercedes we all want, then he’d get a lovely bitch and his dream car.”
“Don’t get any ideas, Wendy, especially if they include kidnapping young ladies.”
“You’re no fun, Charles.”
“What did you do to your mate?” Sanders demanded. “She’s even more wicked than usual. What did I do to deserve this?”
“I didn’t do anything to her. Sara is obviously a good influence on her,” Desmond replied, lifting his chin and sipping at his coffee. “If you don’t want her, I may just have to take her home with me anyway. The house has been empty without our puppies around.”
“Didn’t you just tell Wendy she couldn’t kidnap young ladies?” Sanders ran his hands through his hair. “You two!”
My wolf basked in the pleasure of being wanted while I glared at the three of them as they discussed my fate without asking me what I wanted. While I did want Sanders, while I did want out of Las Vegas, while I wanted to leave my life behind and start again, the casual way they discussed my circumstances and future was beginning to annoy me. “Perhaps I’ll just kidnap him. How hard can it be to learn how to drive? I could tie him up and throw him in the trunk. Maybe he’s the one who should be kidnapped.”
I’d been kidnapped once, and I didn’t want to repeat the experience, although I didn’t have the courage to say so outright.
“I volunteer to act as your getaway driver,” Wendy said, holding up her hand. “Pick me! We can take him to Canada, find a nice, secluded lodge, and you can take your time hunting him to your heart’s content.”