Book 2 Not his Werewolf

by Annie Nicholas

  “Because I am considered human.”

  Betty smelled of truth. Shifters could smell lies and she honestly believed she was human. He recalled what had happened to his best friend, Angie. She had thought she was human with a little shifter blood. Turned out, she was a cursed full-blooded dragon.

  Opening his mouth, he inhaled deep and tasted Betty’s scent. He had been drugged so maybe his senses were off and he had made a mistake? Soulmates couldn’t be human. It was impossible. They just didn’t have the biology.

  She busied with dog bowls, filling them with kibble. “Not many shifters bother with pets.”

  “It wasn’t intentional. They were strays and starving.” The nose knew things and smells didn’t lie. He wasn’t wrong. She belonged to him. No doubt about it. “I fed them and eventually caught their fleas.”

  She snorted.

  “It’s not funny. They itch like mad and crawl through your fur at night like ghost fingers.” He shuddered. “If I had to take a flea bath then so did they. Then they never left my home.”

  Leaning against the door frame, she eyed Ken as if seeing him for the first time. Her gaze caressed his flesh and he couldn’t help but flex. “That’s a nice story.”

  “What’s your story, Betty, because you definitely hit my radar as a werewolf.”

  “That’s not surprising.” Many had claimed the same thing back home, yet pack law still declared her as human. “I’m a half-breed. My father is a wolf shifter in the Riverbend Pack.”

  He raised an eyebrow.

  “And your mother?”

  “Human.” If her mother had been a different type of shifter, Betty would have been able to shape change into one type of animal or the other. There were no tiger-wolf hybrids—Tilf? Woger? She shook the disturbing images from her head. With her parents, that meant she was either human or not. Voilà. It sucked to be her, because inside she yearned for pack, but was denied it.

  “Oh.” Ken paled. His shoulders slumped and he set his half-eaten burger aside. Maybe the tranquilizers had made him sick.

  “Do you need to lie down?” Because if he fainted, she couldn’t catch him. She been raised as a pack child and knew shifters better than humans. Ken was tall. At least six and a half feet. Shoulders like a linebacker and sculpted with lean muscles. Very pretty. Too pretty. Probably had a girlfriend in every New Port neighborhood.

  “You never shifted?”

  Old wounds she’d thought healed ripped open once more. She didn’t want to stroll down nightmare lane. “No, and at eighteen the pack kicked me out. Happy?”

  He strode across the space separating them and grasped her in a bear hug.

  Her face pressed to his lower chest since she was cursed with her mother’s lack of height. Her bones creaked.

  “Not one bit.” He stroked her hair.

  She pushed against him, his skin warm, his body hard, but she might as well have been caught in a werewolf version of a Chinese finger trap. The harder she shoved, the more he hugged until she was breathless.

  “Fine.” She patted his back. Werewolves could be such sensitive mush heads about weird things. “This is my problem, not yours. I’m over it, Ken. I’ve moved on.”

  He took a deep, shaky breath. “It’s my problem too.” He bent almost in half to rest his face on top of her head. “You’re my soulmate, Betty. Can you even sense that?”

  Chapter Three

  Betty’s heart turned into lead and sank to her gut. His soulmate? The drugs had done some job on Ken’s head. She was going to kill Trixie. Shifters’ metabolisms being fast, he should process this soon. He’d better, because Betty wasn’t hearing any wedding bells.

  “Let go.” She squirmed to escape his hot grasp with no result. Her heart thudded against her chest. Her flesh tingled with electric charge wherever their flesh met.

  “I’ll never let you go. I’ve spent years searching for you.”

  “I meant stop hugging me. I’m sweaty and stink and I haven’t had a shower yet.”

  He lifted her chin so their gazes locked. His bright golden eyes shone with inner moonlight, drawing her in like a trap. “I don’t care,” he whispered. “I love your scent.” Then he bent to kiss her.

  She covered her mouth with her hand. Sexy guy, half-naked in her home, wanting to kiss her and she was acting as if men were waiting in line outside her home for a date. Was she nuts pushing him away?

  But Ken wanted more than to wrinkle her sheets. He wanted forever and she didn’t even know his last name. Shifters fell in love fast. She’d seen it happen time again when she’d lived in the pack, but never within seconds.

  His lips brushed her knuckles and his eyes popped open. He let her go—finally—setting his hands on his hips. “I never pictured this moment going so poorly.”

  Betty locked her knees before she sank to the floor. Oh dear, she was in deep trouble. “Look,” she gasped. “Trixie pumped two darts full of tranquilizers in your ass just an hour ago. Maybe you should eat and let your system clear before proclaiming your undying love, okay?”

  Betty pushed him toward her desk and his cooling food.

  “I feel fine.” Yet he still sat on her old wooden swivel chair. It groaned under his weight, and he dug into the food with a shifter’s determination.

  Food was almost a religion for their kind—uh, his kind. She liked to eat and had inherited her father’s metabolism, but she’d never experienced the euphoria she witnessed at mealtimes as she’d grown up in the pack. The kind on Ken’s face at present. Her mom and she would usually chat with other humans but any shifters at the table ate in silence, savoring each bite. Another sign that Betty truly didn’t belong among a wolf pack.

  Her mother was a sous-chef at Bon Homme, a French restaurant in Riverbend, so they always had guests. Her parents weren’t soulmates. It didn’t mean they weren’t in love. Mom had stolen her father’s heart through his stomach, but Betty knew, secretly, Mom dreaded he’d find his true soulmate one day and leave. It had happened before within the pack. The call of one’s soulmate couldn’t be denied. Past relationships seemed to dissolve in seconds.

  Ken gobbled three burgers before slowing. “Are you sure you don’t want one?” Pulling a wrapped one from the bag, he extended his hand. “Eat.”

  Taking food from shifters was a tricky thing. It was part of the mating ritual—feeding one another was a promise of love. The act only had meaning if the shifters were in a relationship. If Ken hadn’t declared her his mate, she wouldn’t have hesitated and taken the burger. He could misinterpret her actions as acceptance.

  Or she could just be over-thinking things like usual.

  The sweet smell of greasy burger reached her senses and her stomach growled so loud it hurt. Fingers brushed paper as she reached for his offered meal.

  Holy crap, what was she doing? She jerked her hand away.

  From his secretive smile, he knew exactly what he’d been doing. Tempting fate. He wasn’t just shifter good-looking, but predator-smart. Male shifters usually fit in one category or the other. The ones who were in both usually ranked high in the pack.

  With a racing heart, she retreated. “I’m going to let the dogs in from the yard. You mind?” The animals were still quiet outside.

  He nodded, resting his elbows on her desk, legs splayed out in front of him. His gaze never left her as she crossed to the door leading to her huge fenced in yard.

  The dogs entered tentatively, not barking, heads held low and went to their respective kennels to eat. She rubbed her eyes. Breakfast time was celebrated every morning with barks and kisses, not sullen silence.

  Her Great Dane stayed at her side though, feet shifting and ears held back. Her dog, the only one not up for adoption, gave Ken a nervous growl. The canines knew who was the biggest predator in the room.

  She stroked Peanut’s head. “Easy, girl. Go eat.” Betty nudged her toward her bowl in the corner of the room.

  “She’s beautiful.” He admired Peanut’s gray spotted coat
, then offered Betty the burger again, with a wink. “No strings attached.”

  She couldn’t stop her smile. She’d spent too much time with dogs and not enough with men, so she had no defense to Ken’s charm. The flutter in her stomach would fade once she ate. She could only afford one meal a day and it was silly to reject the burger she’d paid for.

  The first bite was greasy heaven. Cheese and bacon and all those artery clogging things humans worried about. Maybe she should, too? It was difficult to think of herself as human since she’d been raised as a shifter. Part of her still wanted to believe she was. Betty usually ate yogurt for breakfast. It was cheap protein. Funds were tight and meat was expensive.

  Pet stores usually donated dog food to the shelter, but she couldn’t exist on kibble. The old building was low rent since it was a piece of crap in a bad neighborhood. She was terrible at fundraising so most of her income came from homemade shampoos, bath bombs, and soap for both people and animals. Online shoppers for the win.

  “Feeling better?” she asked him. “Clearer head?”

  “Sure.” He still watched her with a hunger that had nothing to do with the breakfast in her hand. “If you think food will cure the fact that you’re my soulmate, you’ll be disappointed.”

  “Fuck.” She tossed the last bits of her breakfast to Peanut, who caught it like an airborne shark.

  “Am I that horrifying?” He gestured to his gorgeous body.

  “No.” She rubbed her temples, trying to ease the pounding in her head. “I’ve got to feed the cats.”

  He jumped to his feet. “I’ll help.”

  “No.” She pressed her hand to his chest. “They’ll flip out with a wolf in the room. Bad enough my dogs are terrified of you.” She pointed to the kennels and the church-like behavior of her usually rambunctious animals. “I’m not in the mood to be clawed by a room full of stressed out cats.”

  “They’re not terrified of you?”

  “Human, remember?”

  She strode toward the exit of the canine section but he dogged her every step. How was she going to fix this soulmating thing? Her dad might know what to do. She’d have to call him, since she didn’t have any shifter friends. She had made a clean break from everyone in Riverbend except family. It hurt too much otherwise. Not to mention her friends would gossip. The last thing she needed was the alpha of Riverbend Pack to learn someone was trying to claim her.

  Shifters were very traditional when it came to soulmates and she suspected no one would be happy about Ken’s drugged up instincts.

  “Why don’t you believe me? You smell like wolf. You smell like mine.”

  She growled and stopped him with a hand to his chest, then slammed the door in his face. Then she crossed to the other side of the rescue where she housed the cats and slowly crept inside their sanctuary. The room was filled with floor to ceiling scratch posts and cushions. She only had six feline guests and they eyed her like an errant servant when she entered.

  Okay, so they didn’t love her but the cats didn’t try to claw out her eyes either. Not like they did her father when he visited. He still had scars.

  Now, there was the shifter he’d smelled. Ken grinned at the closed door. What an adorable growl. He wanted to toss her over his shoulder and take her… He scratched his chin. Well damn, he didn’t have a car or a stitch of clothes to wear. They couldn’t go anywhere. Humans frowned upon public nudity and placed laws against shifters running around naked. Up until now, he’d been thinking with his hormones and not his head. No wonder she’d pushed him away.

  He exited the dog kennel area into what appeared to be a front lobby. This must be where the public entered the building. Not the best place for him to wander around. He didn’t need a stranger finding him here in all his glory. A news article about indecent exposure at an animal rescue would be the death of him.

  Following Betty’s scent, he found a back staircase. At the top, he entered what must be her living space.

  He halted at the threshold. It was small. The whole apartment could fit in his master bedroom. The cracks on the walls were the only decoration. A small window over the kitchen sink let in a bit of sunlight. He walked on the uneven flooring, the worn wood creaking under his weight. Small kitchen with the bare essentials—fridge, stove, sink—all appeared to be from the seventies. He peeked inside her fridge and found yogurt. That was it. He frowned and strode across the narrow living room, which held a sagging sofa and ancient television, to her bedroom.

  A twin bed with her blankets on the floor. Her laundry sat in a pile in the corner by the closet, where he searched for something that might fit. It would take a miracle. He was at least a foot taller. Maybe a robe or yoga pants? She didn’t seem the yoga type…full of fire and pent up anger.

  He held up a pair of jeans to his hips. This was ridiculous. He dropped them and searched her closet. In the back, he found a pair of black track pants and a white T-shirt his size. For a minute, he’d been worried he would be forced to wear a towel home.

  Wait, why did she have men’s clothes in her closet? He sniffed them and snarled. Of all things he’d been expecting to find, he wasn’t prepared for this smell. First, his soulmate had been suffering in poverty all this time when he could have been helping her, and now this.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Betty stood in the doorway, arms crossed and eyes blazing. He hadn’t heard her steps. Either she was good on a hunt or he had been too engrossed in the scent of another male.

  Claws of rage tore at his heart and he could barely breathe. He held out the clothes. “You have a boyfriend?” The windows rattled from the volume of his shout and a dog howled below them.

  She winced.

  He inhaled slow and deep. He hadn’t meant to yell, but clearly, from the scent, her boyfriend was a wolf shifter. Ken would have to challenge him if he didn’t back away.

  “That ends today.” He jerked on the clothes to obliterate the other male’s smell. And…they were the only things that would fit Ken.

  His gaze moved to her bed. They would burn that as well.

  “Would you like to pee on my leg?” She batted her eye lashes.

  “This isn’t a joke.” He strode across the short distance separating them.

  Her stormy expression vanished. With wide eyes, she retreated until her back hit the wall.

  He leaned his hands on the wall, trapping her between them. It wasn’t that uncommon when mates found each other that one or the other would be involved in another relationship. He’d always felt sorry for the person who was suddenly dumped. Not this time. This male would no longer be allowed anywhere near Betty. Better yet, Ken would make sure he transferred to another pack.

  “That belongs to—” She tried to explain but he pressed his lips to hers, scooped her into his arms as he explored her rosebud mouth. He would make her forget that other men existed.

  She slapped at his shoulders. Then slowly, her attacks turned into caresses until she tangled her fingers in his hair. Her grip tightened, the sharp pain on his scalp more intense, and then she yanked.

  “Ow!” He clasped the back of his head and dropped the small she-devil who was holding strands of his short hair between her fingers.

  “Those clothes belong to my dad, asshole.” She swung her leg and kicked him in the shin.

  “Hey!” He jumped clear of the next one.

  She limped to her bed. “He forgot them on his last visit. Oh my god, I think your werewolf bones broke my toe.” She sat on the edge of her mattress and clasped her foot, rocking back and forth.

  He knelt before her. “Let me look.” He pried her fingers open. This had to be the worst mating meet-up in the history of their people. Where was the heat? The love? The sex? He seized her little foot, which fit in his palm. “Can you wiggle them?” They didn’t look broken and he breathed a sigh of relief.

  She flexed them and grimaced. “Yeah.” She smacked the side of his head. “Jerk.” Then yanked her foot from his hold.


  He dropped his head, resting his arms on his bent knees as he remained squatting in front of her.

  “It’s time for you to go.”

  “Look, we started things on the wrong foot.” Pun intended. He raised his head and caught her glare. She might claim not to be a shifter but she sure acted like one. Especially when meeting his gaze. “Me drugged. You…cranky.”

  She snarled.

  He hid his grin behind a cough. She sure communicated like a werewolf too. “Maybe we should try to start over.” He held out his hand. “Ken Birch, head of the New Port Pack’s finance and investment department.”

  “Finance and investment.”

  “The one and only.”

  “Sounds exciting.” She eyed his hand as if it was a trap, then gingerly shook it. “Betty Newman, sole owner of Almost Home Rescue.”

  “See, we can be civil.” The silence stretched and he cleared his throat. “So, no boyfriend?”

  “No,” she snapped. Her stare wandered from his, focusing on the wall behind him. “You?”

  “No boyfriend either.”

  She scowled. “You know what I mean.”

  “No girlfriend.” Lovers, yes, but not any more. He resisted touching her. Wanting to caress her thighs, pull her onto his lap, nip the tip of her nose. She wasn’t ready. That was clear.

  She crossed her arms. “So, you’re an investor. That explains the hair style.”

  He ran his hands over his short hair. “What’s wrong with it?”

  “Nothing. It’s just very…professional looking.”

  He leaned forward, setting his hands on the mattress. “I’m very serious about what I smelled, Betty. You’re my soulmate. No matter how much you deny it. That won’t change things.”

  With her fingertips, she traced his cheeks, his chin, his jaw. She inhaled then shook her head. “I’m not sure what to smell for. I must have missed the class on soulmates in shifter school.”

  He chuckled. Relieved that she had a sense of humor behind all that rage. “That doesn’t mean it’s not there.”