by Jessa Slade
He gave her a hopeful crossed fingers gesture as he dialed. When a faint—and faintly irate—voice answered, he leaned back in his chair. “Is this Josh Reimer? I’m a friend of Babette, from the Antique Emporium. I apologize for calling so late, but—No, no, she’s fine, but I need to get word to a fellow I think is a neighbor of yours, name of Vaile...” His gesture changed to a thumb’s up and he shot her a triumphant glance. “I understand your reluctance, but about those circle patterns on your belt buckles...”
Merrilee listened, nodding as he hit the high points of the story with a certain amount of deliberate vagueness.
“My friend Orson will be at Vaile’s place in a few hours to explain in more detail. I’d sure appreciate it if you’d let Vaile know what’s coming.” He paused as the other man responded. “Well, sir, mysteries are just a part of life, aren’t they?”
They exchanged a few more words, including Merrilee’s contact info, then Beck disconnected. He glanced at her. “How’d I do?”
“You didn’t sound too insane.”
He grimaced. “Drink your dinner.”
When she finally cracked open the beer, the hoppy fragrance made her close her eyes and inhale. She leaned back and took a drink.
She couldn’t contain a moan of delight as the rich head hit the back of her throat. Notes of chocolate and blackberry danced across her tongue. She tilted the chair and upended the bottle for another long draught.
When she opened her eyes, Beck was watching, his golden eyes almost as dark as the brew. “Like it?”
“Might be your best ever.”
He smiled as he shut the safe with a reverberating clang. “I think so too.”
She stared at him. “How did you get to be so confident?”
He leaned back in his chair, echoing her stance. “I’m Alpha.”
She shook her head. “I’m Alpha too. And I don’t feel it.”
“Going away for a while...” He rubbed the back of his neck. “My parents weren’t Alpha, but I was cocky enough they knew I would be. I didn’t want to leave home, but I learned a lot about myself while I was away.” He glanced up, a sharper look in his eye. “Is that why you’re always flying out?”
She looked down at her beer. “Maybe. Or not. I didn’t want it at all, really.” She took another hurried sip, swallowing hard when the beer foamed up. “I never told anyone that.”
“Never wanted...” His expression stilled. “Never wanted to be Alpha?”
“My grandmother was disappointed my mother wasn’t Alpha. I think Mom had me just to silence the long-suffering sighs.”
“She couldn’t have known you’d be Alpha.”
Merrilee shrugged. The Alpha strain ran in families, so of course the chances had been good. “I don’t blame either of them. I just wish...”
He watched her closely. “Someone else could take your place.”
Even though she tried to stay loose in the chair with the help of her exhaustion and the good beer, every muscle tightened, coming to alert at the mere threat.
He gave her a fainter smile. “Or not.”
She groaned. “It’s like another beast inside me. As if it wasn’t crowded enough in here.”
“Like the military, being Alpha is an honorable duty.”
She scowled at him. “You think I don’t know that?”
“But it’s also a pleasure.” He pushed out of his chair and sauntered around his desk to perch on the edge in front of her. Hooking a toe through the leg of her chair, he rolled her closer. “After all, you get to tell people what to do.”
She lifted her chin when her knees bumped against his. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”
“And weirdly enough, that is an even greater pleasure.” He leaned down to brace his hands on her thighs and stare into her eyes. “So why don’t you try it. Tell me what to do.”
She opened her mouth to tell him to back off, but what came out was, “Kiss me.”
He smelled of iron and night, and his mouth was as hot as a forge. He kissed her as if it had been his idea.
He hauled her up into his arms, and the flex of muscle made her pulse jump in answer. She wanted that strength inside her, but...
She pulled back a scant inch. “No. Beck. We don’t have time for this. The phae... My pack meets at dawn... I have to go.”
“I locked your car keys in the safe.”
“What?”
“I hear you bite when someone messes with your keys, but even a wereling can’t bite through iron.”
She struggled against his grip. “You can’t—”
“But I did. And you can’t keep pushing yourself to do it all. That’s what you said before, but that’s not what an Alpha does. You have a strong pack, Merrilee. Let them do their work. Your only job is to lead them.”
“Only?” A harsh laugh that sounded too much like a sob escaped her.
“Only, but not alone.” He ran his hand over her hair, a soothing gesture that nevertheless forced her to look up at him. “I’m here.”
He kissed her again, and with another flex of his arms, he was carrying her up the stairs. Not just to the bar, but up another flight, to his apartment above. She’d seen the lights in the upstairs windows once or twice—maybe three times, or possibly more—when she’d driven through town, but she’d never been up to his rooms.
The paneling was even older than his favorite T-shirts, but the space had an almost Zen-inspired simplicity with clean Mission furniture and simple Kashmiri rugs softening the wood floors. Except for all the bookshelves; those were overflowing with dog-eared paperbacks. She’d have to tease him about eating his homework. And maybe buy him an e-reader.
That was the only glimpse she got before he headed for the bedroom. She saw the Chinese blouse she’d worn to New York folded neatly on a corner chair, but then he was carrying her to the tiny bath.
He twisted on the shower with one hand while lifting off her dress with the other, the brush of his fingers raising shivers over her skin. There were certain benefits to a very small bath.
“This is why you ditched poor Nally,” she murmured.
“I wanted to stash the good doctor in a safe place. And that’s not around me when I want you.”
As steam rose around them, turning to silver smoke in the light of the moon through the small window, she watched him strip out of the borrowed clothes.
“You look even better naked,” she said.
“You don’t mind...” His hand hovered above his marred ribs. “It’s ugly.”
“I mind what almost happened to you because of them.” She settled her hands on his hips, her thumbs brushing the twist of scars. “And you know perfectly well how sexy you are.”
“You can have me this way anytime you ask.” He lifted them both into the shower.
“I’m asking.”
“Coming right up then.”
He did, too, kissing her under the stream of water until she was gasping, then perfectly angling into her with his body slick with water, hers wet with wanting him.
He held her easily, one hand under her ass and the other against the wall, his cock stretching and stroking her core. She clutched at his shoulders, tightening her fingers on the muscle as if she could claim that power.
Like the morning, her orgasm came faster than she wanted. She struggled to hold back, but he felt so good, so right, inside her.
“Stop fighting it,” he whispered against her hair. “Stop fighting me.”
The soft, fierce command made her come, her inner ring of muscles tightening around him while waves of pleasure spread outward.
He threw back his head, and the groan wrenching through him seemed dredged from the very root of his cock, so deep was the sound. It vibrated her bones, and she climaxed again as he surged inside her.
Even his strong arms were trembling by the time they caught their breath and he eased out of her. He let her slide carefully down the wall.
She locked her knees, embarrassed at the urge to
keep sliding into a limp puddle at his feet.
Before the water could wash the last evidence from her skin, he lifted her out of the shower and wrapped her in a towel. He knelt to dry her legs.
“I can do that,” she muttered.
“But why, when I am here?” He smiled up at her, white teeth flashing in the gloom. “Learn to delegate.”
His hands were better, gentler than her own rough efficiency, both soothing and exciting.
She touched his bent head, the tousled locks so like the coarse silk of his wolf pelt. “How can you do that?”
“The miracle of good towels? It’s amazing, isn’t it?”
She almost let the moment slip away; finding the words was harder than the first time she’d gone hunting field mice in thatch. But somehow she knew she had to keep digging. “How do you kneel without feeling...small?”
When he looked up again, his gaze was serious. “It doesn’t change who I am. Or what I am.” He stood with an easy swiftness that made her breath catch. “And it doesn’t change you.”
“But—”
“We’re not all-powerful, babe.” He caught her hand against his scarred belly. “Don’t learn that like I did: the hard way. You’re smart enough and strong enough to know when you don’t have to do it all yourself.”
The thought of not being alone was so tempting, her fingers clenched with wanting it, wanting him. She closed her eyes tight to squeeze away a suspicious stinging and boosted herself up to kiss him.
He took it like his due, which once upon a time would have made her livid, but somehow the water and his touch seemed to have smoothed away her ire. “We only have a few hours,” he said when she slid down. “Let’s make the most of it.”
She thought that meant something dirty, now that they were all clean, but when he carried her to the bed and pulled back the navy flannel sheets, he laid her down and only pulled her into the curve of his arm, her head cushioned on his shoulder.
She lay stiffly against him for a heartbeat. “And?”
He kissed her forehead. “Put your thigh over mine.”
“What?”
“It’s called snuggling.”
“I know that.” Tentatively, she crooked her leg. “I saw a movie once.”
He chuckled, bouncing her head a bit.
Her arm flat against her side felt out of place, unbalanced, so she placed that on his chest. Now the heavy thud of his heart echoed under her ear and her palm, seeming to connect through her body.
From her position, her view to the nightstand included a small framed plaque with a medal pinned in the center. “Is that your Silver Star?” When his uncle had named him Alpha, of course everyone in the valley had looked him up on the internet him, so she knew he’d received the medal for pulling two fellow soldiers to safety despite the wound that had earned him the Purple Heart and his belly of scars.
His arm tightened on her. “Like there aren’t enough stars in the sky around here.”
She thumped his chest at his deprecating tone. “Is that why you keep it right where you can see it? A night light?”
He grumbled under his breath. “It’s a reminder.”
“Of what?”
His aggrieved sigh ruffled her hair. “I was a bad kid, but... I got a shiny gold and silver star eventually. On the back it says ‘Gallantry in Action.’ Not just gallantry. Not just action. Those are easy, you know? But both at the same time?”
She tucked her chin to his chest. “That’s an Alpha.”
“Yeah. And I want to remember that. Now go to sleep.” His murmur was less command than entreaty. “I’ll get you home before the sun rises.”
With his promise and his heartbeat quieting her, she slept.
* * *
Ice rimed the world the next morning, which made the instant oatmeal and equally instant coffee more delicious than they had the right to be. Merrilee hummed her appreciation as she waited for Beck to retrieve her keys from the safe.
He frowned at her. “That’s nothing. You need to try my omelets.”
She smiled around the chunks of brown sugar. “You’re lucky I’m not biting you for stealing my keys.” She gazed past him at the vial of purple spores. “Such little things to cause such trouble.”
His stare at her was more direct as he tossed her the keys. “Tell me about it.”
He made her watch while he started her car and scraped ice off the windows, but she refused to wait inside. She couldn’t let him always tell her what to do.
Plus, he hadn’t bothered to put on a coat, and she liked the way his butt looked in his close-fitted jeans, bending over her hood.
Fingers wrapped around her coffee, she tucked her nose down in the buttoned-up neck of the flannel-lined denim jacket he’d loaned her. He’d ignored his box of visitor clothing and pulled the jacket and a pair of sweatpants from his own closet to replace her ridiculous summer dress, so the cozy warmth smelled of rich cedar, an overlay of malt, and him.
And a hint of sex since they’d indulged one last time before they’d stumbled out of bed.
She let out a breath that fogged in the cold air. She shouldn’t get used to this; she might get lazy and spoiled on good beer.
For all the icy chill, the predawn sky was a Technicolor meld of pink and blue, promising lovely weather later. Just the sort of day one wanted to spend smelting iron bullets, marshalling the pack and preparing for a preternatural war.
Beck opened the driver door for her and she slipped in. She looked up at him. “I’m sending our young down here today.”
He nodded. “I think it’s a good day for a field trip. I’ll have the bus ready and a contingent to go with them. I’ll be up with the rest of my people later.”
The car’s heaters were blasting, but the warmth that went through her had nothing to do with that. “The phae are threatening my territory. It’s not your fight.”
His jaw clenched, and his gold eyes darkened. He leaned down so fast, she thought he would snap at her, but instead he kissed her once, hard and possessive. He glared at her from that intimate distance.
“Haven’t you gotten the message yet? I will always fight for you.”
Without waiting for her response, he stepped back and slammed the door. He slapped the roof for good measure and pointed up valley, as if she might have forgotten the way.
She hesitated, wanting to jump out and...and what? Make him take it back?
Or make him say it again?
She gunned the car and sped away.
She arrived at the lakeside parking lot as her pack was gathering. Just a couple dozen families and singletons, healthy and sturdy from the mountain air and a satisfying life her great-grandmother had started for those who were just a bit unusual, even for werelings. She had been tasked with continuing that way of life, and instead this menace had found them.
Maybe there was only so much running away even a wolf-kind could do.
Keisha and Peter leaned shoulder to shoulder, looking tired but resolute, their arms wound around each other. The cougar-kind sculptor had loaded his trailer with all the quickly manufactured iron weapons, and now helped disperse the spears, clubs, flails and darts to the small crowd.
Merrilee brought them up to speed, with the finding of the rogue phae stronghold, the extra iron pipes in her trunk, the last-minute field trip for the children. She selected a handful of the young mothers and two older werelings to make the trek down valley, all of whom bristled at the exile for their own safety. “This is our place,” someone protested, but they all inclined their heads when Merrilee swept them with a glare.
“The phae will return this evening, and I want only our strongest to face them.” She refused to think how she’d raced away from her fiercest ally. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to a battle, but if it does, let’s be ready.”
Keisha dispensed a color-coded flow chart of how their forces—such as they were—would be positioned, and the pack went to stockpile their new weapons, looking unaccountable perky.
They were all apex predators within, she reminded herself. Perhaps they had been living the good life too long. Maybe Beck was right when he’d said she should have given them more opportunity to display their own power.
She just wished the chance hadn’t come under such dire circumstances.
As she’d expected, the day quickly warmed, and as she oversaw the conversion of Babette’s pipes to sharp iron daggers, she stopped by her cottage to change into something lighter. She tossed Beck’s hand-me-downs across her bed in the A-frame’s loft. For an instant, she imagined him naked in her shower, having left these clothes behind. As a trail for her to follow. As a marking of his territory.
She shivered at the thought, wanting his touch even now.
Resolutely, she pulled on a gorgeous strapless maxi dress she’d found on her last visit to New York. It would not fail to impress the glamorous phae and yet offered no impediment to shifting. She ran her hands over the ombre silk that was dyed from icy white around her breasts to an elegant gold to a fiery red speckled with white stars at her ankles. She’d thought it captured the spirit of the verita luna.
Now she would make it her armor as she pretended to be a queen.
The day seemed to go by too slowly, despite all she had to do. Keisha had taken a call earlier from Orson who had made contact with Josh Reimer, but had nothing to report about their meeting with Vaile. Though the bright sunlight ensured the phae would be reluctant to show themselves, Merrilee found she had one ear cocked for anything unusual.
Then she realized she was listening for the distinctive thunder of a Harley.
Which made her curse and stomp on her hem as she whirled away, almost yanking the dress off her breasts.
Which of course made her think of Beck even more.
She almost hoped the Lord of the Hunt did want war, because she certainly felt like attacking something.
So she ate, made sure all her people did the same, insisted they take turns getting some rest—wolf-kind had a special affinity for napping in the sun—tried herself to relax and instead tossed restlessly on her bed next to the cedar-scented jacket, thinking of the night before. She touched the metal rivets down the front, imagining Beck’s flat, hard nipples.