Rogue Wolf

by Amber Ella Monroe

  The wolf wanted to venture out again, so here he was standing in the place that brought back so many memories.

  The sound of a car engine drowned out his thoughts. He heard loose gravel give way as if the car was coming to a stop near the entryway of the shop. He listened carefully, trying to identify the type of car by listening to the purr of its engine. The sound didn't belong to a clunky or anything needing repair. This engine was in a class with high caliber.

  He rushed outside immediately to confirm that his instincts were spot on. Monica was getting out of her red Corvette when he pushed through the front door. He'd never been more happier to see anyone again in his life. She'd come to him and that meant the world to him.

  When she rose to her full height and flashed the most beautiful smile that Deacon had ever seen, his heart fluttered wildly. His racing heartbeat wasn't his only reaction to seeing her. The mate mark on his left forearm heated on his skin.

  Deacon went out to meet her in the front of the shop.

  "Hey." He grinned. His words left him. Instead, he focused on her beauty and the way her eyes lit up when she looked at him.

  "Hi," she said, shyly.

  "You came…?"

  "Yeah, I thought you weren't here at first. I didn't see your motorcycle," she said.

  He grinned. "I didn't the bike today. I ran."

  Her gaze fluttered across his body. He couldn't be certain, but he figured she was imagining what he looked like after a shift.

  "You didn't have to come all this way for me," he said.

  "Call me persistent but I like to show my appreciation when someone does me a favor," she said.

  "If you're talking about what happened last night, that wasn't a favor. That was my duty. I'd never stand by and let a man take advantage of a woman like that."

  "I was thankful for that too, but I never ever got a chance to thank you for getting me home on the night of the storm," she said. "So…thank you." She gestured to the inside of her car. "I've got your bag and a gift for you."

  "You didn't have to get anything for me," he said.

  She handed over his drawstring bag and another gift bag. "But I did. By the way, that bag is pretty heavy."

  "Probably because there are rolls of coins in side and several thousand dollars in cash. You didn't look?"

  She gasped. "Of course not. I'm not a snoop, but seriously, you handed me a several thousand dollars to keep for you…just like that. I could have skipped town with that."

  He grinned. "I trust you enough."

  She rolled her eyes. "You really need to get that into a bank."

  He shrugged. "So, I've been told. Apparently, my underground safe and vaults down in Tunica aren't enough."

  Monica shook her head. "You're risking it."

  He pulled a small box from the other bag she gave him. He was taken by surprise when he realized what the gift was.

  He smiled. "You weren't kidding when you said you knew about the hummingbird feeders. Thank you." He couldn't remember the last time that someone had given him a gift. A physical gift. Something picked out just for him. He was floored by her thoughtfulness.

  "It's made of spun glass. I really like the dark violet color. I spotted them hanging in the window of a tourist shop when I was filling up my gas tank this morning. I thought of you and these dreams I'm having when I saw them."

  "So, then you're here to ask me about your dreams and what they must mean?"

  "That's not all. Can I treat you to lunch or something?" she asked, blushing.

  Deacon smiled. He was flattered that she cared enough to ask.

  When he didn't answer right away, she said, "Looks like you've been working. If you're busy, that's okay."

  "No. No, I'm not busy at all. Yes, we can have lunch," he replied. "But you do know that they've issued another tornado warning for the Valley area, right?"

  "Well, luckily, I'm not in the Valley," she said.

  "We'll get the thunderstorm out here too. I trust that you don't want to be on the road again when that happens."

  She grinned. "Depends."

  He narrowed his gaze.

  "It's not every day that I get rescued by a hot hunk on a motorcycle."

  He chuckled. "Alright, fair enough. This would be a great time for me to make a better impression. The first two times we ran into each other wasn't what I would call an ideal introduction. I was just finishing up in here, but I'll take you up on that lunch offer. We'll get a quick lunch in before the storms roll through."

  Monica glanced out behind him and asked, "Is this your auto repair shop?"

  "Yes, it's mine. And it used to be a repair shop. I kind of abandoned it," he replied.

  "Can I look inside?" she asked.

  "Sure. I'm needing a second opinion on whether I should keep it."

  He held out his palm for her and there was no hesitation on her part when she slipped her hand inside his. There was a tingling sensation in the pit of his stomach and the very air around them electrified. He couldn't remember the last time he had been this excited about spending time with a woman. He wanted to impress her, but he knew he had very little, but that didn't stop him from wanting to spend this moment with her.

  14

  For the first half hour, they exchanged small talk on the first level, discussing what the auto repair shop used to be and what it meant to Deacon. They finally made it to the second level which overlooked the highway and had a nice view of the mountain tops. The interior of the small space kind of reminded her of the studio apartment she used to rent out in college. A small kitchen area, a closed off bathroom, and one great big living area.

  "This is where me and my grandpa used to stay when times got rough. I was lucky that I didn't have the level converted into storage when I first bought the place. It was only meant to be used for occasional naps by the guys that used to work for me," he commented.

  "So you slept here for a few months after your grandpa lost the farm?" she asked.

  "Hmmm, more like two months. I sort of have an advantage. With me being a shifter, I spent a lot of time outdoors. I can navigate the mountainside in wolf form easily without getting lost."

  "Even if I had a map, I'd probably still get lost out here. There's a lot of terrain to cover."

  Monica picked up a small vase sitting on the windowsill and admired the hand painted flower and hummingbird design on it. She used her thumb to rub the dust away to see the hummingbird clearly.

  "My grandmama painted that. When she wasn't selling bouquets, she liked to paint and take care of her gardens. A lot of her things got sold with the farm, but the vase one of the few pieces we brought down with us. What we couldn't keep here, we kept in a storage unit on the Lombardi property."

  "It's beautiful," she said, holding it in her hand as she walked about the small space.

  "Like you, yes. You're very beautiful," he said.

  His voice was so soft that she almost missed the sentiment. He seemed to stare at her intently as if in a trace. Her temperature rose as he gazed upon her, but she blamed her reaction on the sun rays gleaming through the window and folding over her skin.

  "Thank you," she said.

  "So what do you think? Renovate or start over from scratch somewhere else."

  "Well, if I give you my opinion, I'm going to be a little biased," she replied.

  "Hmmm, a biased answer is just as good as any other," Deacon said, resting on the edge of an old metal desk.

  "I think you should keep it and, if you have the resources, renovate it. It could make you good profit in the end. Aspen Valley is always in need of a good auto mechanic and I think the residents here will really appreciate the fact that they won't have to drive across town to have their car looked at."

  "Good point. What's so biased about that?" he asked.

  "Well, I'm biased because I kind of want you to stick around." She smiled, sheepishly.

  "Kind of?" he teased, a grin twitching at his lips.

  "Yeah…sort o
f." She blushed.

  "Well, haven't you thanked me enough for that one favor," he continued.

  "I like to go above and beyond." She walked toward him and placed the vase down on the metal desk beside him.

  "I figured that about you. You're a good girl who has probably done nothing bad in her life," he noted.

  "You'd be surprised," she countered. "I'm not exactly a saint."

  He grinned and held out his arms. "Well neither am I. Some people like it and some people don't."

  "Well then…I like you just fine," she told him.

  He lowered his gaze momentarily and Monica witnessed as the color on his cheeks deepen in crimson. She found his reaction cute. She couldn't remember the last time she'd made a man blush.

  "Is it true what they say about rogue wolves?" she asked out of the blue.

  "Depends," he replied. "Where'd you learn that term?"

  "I know people. After you left without saying goodbye on the night of the storm, I was so determined to find you. I didn't want you to leave here thinking that I'm some rude, spoiled rich brat or something. My dad can be a pain sometimes."

  "If I were your dad, I'd be a pain about who hung out with my daughter too."

  "Well, are you a rogue?"

  "That term is used loosely, but I've been away from my Pack for over a year. In theory, I am known as a rogue."

  "Is something wrong with the Pack here?" she asked.

  "No, not at all. Under the current Alpha, the Pack is said to be in a much stronger position than they were before. Word gets around fast in any Pack and a wolf's reputation is everything. My family fell on some hard times. The things my parents and my grandpa did to survive didn't sit well with my Pack members. Even to this day, I'm the only living Remy in Aspen Valley. Naturally I've had to answer for a lot of the decisions my family made. I'm trying to make it right and do what I can."

  "That's a sign that someone else's past decisions have nothing to do with your current decisions. The fact that you're trying to make things right says a lot about your character," she said.

  "I've learned a lot over the years about what I really want."

  "What you really want…?" She contemplated on his response. "My source also says that rogues don't stick around. Is that true?"

  "Depends on who you ask, but I like to think that a rogue is just a person in search of a place where they truly belong. They long to feel wanted…and needed."

  "That sounds fair, but do you think that sometimes the rogue refuses to see that he is in fact wanted and needed."

  He was silent for a moment and his jaw wrinkled with his uncertain thoughts.

  "Maybe the rogue has just lost his way. Maybe it takes coming across a beautiful distraction in the middle of a storm to help him find it again."

  She was just inches in front of him. With him sitting on the desk and her standing, they were eye to eye. The sun gleamed against his sandy brown hair and his moonlight blue gaze bathed her tenderly. An invisible web of attraction rose between them. She took the first step to close the distance between them. She couldn't help herself and found her fingers tracing the heated veins and taut muscles on his arms. His cool breath fanned against her face on a sigh as her fingertips lightly grazed the raised mark resembling a hummingbird on his arm.

  "I…uh…" she whispered.

  "Monica?" His voice held an edge of uncertainty.

  "I don't know what's going on with me. I've never felt this way. I keep seeing these birds in my dreams and…" She shook her head, trying to re-enact her visions. "Sometimes you're there. But usually all I see is the wolf and the birds. I don't know what it means. All those hummingbirds…" She bit her lip in frustration.

  "It's okay," Deacon said, softly. "We'll figure this out."

  He grabbed both of her hands with his and she squeezed reassuringly and then slipped herself between his open thighs. He let one of her hands go, slid a finger beneath her chin, and then titled her face upward. She released a sigh, falling deeper into his arms. Her heavy eyelids fluttered closed, but she parted her lips, inviting him…

  He angled his mouth over hers, touching his lips to her lips. When they came together, his taste reminded him of something sweet and tangy—like wine. His lips were gentle and soft as they coaxed her into a deeper kiss. His tongue probed hers, instigated the most sensual dance between them. His kiss sang through her veins, igniting passion within her. The way he kissed her with slow, drugging never ending caresses against her lips took her to a place of divine ecstasy—a place that she didn't want to leave. Her fingers had somehow gotten wrapped up in his shirt. She was grasping at his shirt, pulling him possessively to her. Time must have stopped for this moment. Her thoughts spun and the only thing that mattered was being wrapped in Deacon's warmth.

  They parted from the kiss, short of breath and panting.

  She wanted more. She slipped her fingers between his neck and recaptured his lips. He obliged her silent request, returning her kiss as if she were the only thing that mattered. When they separated, he left her mouth burning with fire and pressed his forehead to her forehead.

  "If I don't stop now, I'll end up doing roguish things to you," he said.

  She caught his gaze while still caressing the nape of his neck and asked, "Well then, I just might encourage you to keep going."

  He kissed her once more on the lips, then her left cheek, her right temple…and then the tip of her nose.

  "I'm not going anywhere without you. I promise," he told her.

  Monica's belly rumbled loudly reminding her that she was running off coffee and snacks. Her cheeks heated in embarrassment and she laughed.

  "I guess I really need to eat lunch now."

  He chuckled. "No kidding. I won't have any mate of mine going hungry. Let's get you fed."

  She took his hand and then stopped short of the door when she recalled what he said. "Mate?"

  He paused and then said, "Yes, mate. We're almost certain."

  Before she could grill him again like she'd been doing for the past hour, he led her down the stairs to the first level and then outside where her Corvette was waiting.

  Deacon opened the driver's side door for her and she slipped inside. He jumped in on the passenger's side, stretching his long legs as far as they would go in her little sports car.

  "So where to?" she asked, starting the engine.

  "I know this place down at the market that serves some really great tacos. And there's a sandwich shop right across the street if you don't want anything to heavy."

  "I could probably eat a dozen tacos right now," she commented.

  "Cool. We have a few more hours until that storm rolls through. And before you get any ideas, we'll take cover long before that happens."

  Monica stole another quick glance at him before pulling out of the parking lot and onto the main highway. Being with him felt so right and the void she'd felt for as long as she could remember had vanished.

  15

  Monica was lying on her back on a blanket with her arms folded behind her head, watching the clouds come and go and change from a misty white to a dark gray color. Deacon was in a similar position, but his eyes were closed and he looked so peaceful. They were on the ground by the lake and had just finished their lunch while enjoying the views.

  Monica could tell Deacon loved being out in nature. He'd already told her that he could sense when the first drops of rain where about to hit, so she wasn't worried about being stuck out here during the downpour. In fact, she wasn't worried at all. As long as Deacon was here, she knew she'd be safe. He'd already proven himself to her.

  "Tell me about the dreams you've been having," Deacon said.

  "When I'm deep in the dream I keep seeing this wolf. His fur is the same color as your hair. Sandy brown. His eyes and your eyes are the same. Moonlight blue. Then the wolf fades away and I see hummingbirds. There are feeders hanging in these big trees and I just see dozens and dozens of hummingbirds coming to feed. And it feels like I'm th
ere. I'm talking to someone, but when I think they'll respond back, my dream ends."

  "The trees are on a farm. The farm is near a river. There are three barns behind a two story ranch house," he said.

  "Exactly." She turned on her side. "And under each tree there are flower beds. Some with roses, some with tulips, and then my favorite flower, the ca—"

  "The Calla Lily," he finished her sentence.

  "Are we having the same dream?"

  Deacon smiled. "I've been dreaming of something else lately. Of you, actually. But your dreams were once my reality. I used to live on a farm. Remember I mentioned that my grandmama was a florist?"

  Monica nodded.

  "She planted dozens of beds of flowers," he said.

  "And the hummingbirds? Did your farm have hummingbirds?"

  "I hung the hummingbird feeders in the trees because my wolf used to watch them when he wasn't napping in the shade. I used to hang lots of them so they'd come. Hummingbirds are very territorial, kind of like us wolves. They each like to have a feeder to themselves. As long as they were left alone, had food, and I didn't bother their nests, they'd come back year after year. Most of them don't weigh more than a dime, but they are actually very intelligent creatures. Whenever one of them ran out of nectar, I'd get a nasty buzzing and chirping in my ear. They were persistent. It didn't matter if I had just drifted off to sleep. They wouldn't stop until I had shifted back to human form and I was on the way to the shed to refill the feeder. They knew exactly where I stored the food."

  She smiled, just thinking about a group little birds nagging a grown man for food. "That's funny, but I bet they're so beautiful when they come together. I'd like to see that one day."

  "I'll show you. I know they're around here somewhere. Maybe they'll come out after this storm passes," he said.

  "Do you think they still come out to the farm looking for you?"