Book 2 Not his Werewolf

by Annie Nicholas

  “It also means I’m not going to tear off my clothes and ride you like a cowgirl.”

  The image sent a shiver down his spine. “Yet.” The promise was clear in his voice. He didn’t know how he’d do it, but Betty would be his.

  Chapter Four

  Dressed in Betty’s father’s clothes, Ken followed her to the kitchen where she served him coffee. They sat at her table, bathed in morning sunlight. It reflected off her midnight hair, making it appear made of liquid.

  She snapped her fingers in front of his face. “Did you hear anything I just said?”

  He cleared his throat and sat up straighter. “I was thinking.” More like mesmerized. He’d heard that the initial mating call would be intense. Strong emotions overrode his brain, leaving him at a disadvantage since Betty seemed to feel nothing but annoyed. No amount of wishing changed the fact that she just wasn’t sensing their bond. However, that didn’t mean his nose was wrong. They were meant to be together. He’d just have to convince her the old-fashioned way.

  “I asked if you needed to use my phone to call for a ride home.”

  “And be forced to admit that I was bagged and tagged by an amateur dog catcher? I think not.”

  “They wouldn’t know that unless you told them.”

  “Why else would I be here?”

  She frowned and gestured to herself. “Me?”

  He gave her the full force of a slow grin and wove their fingers together. “Okay.”

  She yanked free. “First, we need to come to some sort of understanding. I’m not looking for a mate.” She jumped to her feet and paced the small kitchen. “I mean, I left the pack life. If we’d met a few years ago, I probably would give this whole thing my best try.” Pausing by the sink, she rested her forehead in her hand. “You’re not going to leave me alone, are you?”

  He sipped the coffee. It was paint remover strong, just how he liked it. “Nope.”

  Her shoulders slumped.

  “Is that so bad?” He set his cup aside, fighting the urge to gather her in his arms. So far, she’d responded to all his touches with violence.

  “I don’t know you.”

  “True, but you will. What are you really worried about?” Her rejections were too reactive. She wasn’t even giving him a chance.

  She tossed him a wide-eyed stare. “What will your pack think?”

  He blinked. He hadn’t thought beyond the two of them. “There are shifters who are in relationships with humans. My alpha doesn’t object.”

  “But are any soulmated?”

  “No, they’re human.” He tilted his head, finally understanding. “You’re worried they’ll reject you because you can’t shift.”

  “They’ll treat me like a human. I can’t go through that again, Ken. It hurt so much leaving my birth pack. They tore out my heart and stomped on it. I might not be full-blooded, but I’m shifter enough to need a pack.”

  “You’re making a lot of assumptions without ever meeting any of my pack.”

  She crossed her arms. “I don’t have to meet them. What matters is what your alpha says.”

  He hated to admit it, but she was right. Packs followed their alpha’s example. His alpha happened to also be his dad. His adopted dad.

  “Why don’t we concentrate on us and let me handle the alpha.” This rule of being able to shift was archaic. Betty contained enough shifter blood to act and smell like a werewolf. That should be enough.

  “No.” Her chin took on a stubborn stance but her eyes sparkled with unshed tears.

  He wanted to jump in his car and drive to Riverbend and kick her old alpha’s ass for hurting her so bad. Kicking her out of the pack? That was like family cutting you off.

  He touched his T-shirt. At least her father visited. That must have been so hard on her parents.

  Human spouses lived on the fringe of pack life. They had some benefits of pack life and came to events with their spouses, but it ended there. They weren’t pack. Never could be. Humans couldn’t feel the pack bond.

  As a child of a union between human and wolf shifter, Betty would have been raised as full-blooded. Given until her eighteenth birthday to shapeshift. After that, she either married into the pack as a human spouse or left.

  That was pack law.

  But Betty had shifter blood in her veins. Unlike humans, she felt the pack bond. She didn’t belong in either world. He’d never really thought about those half-bloods that left pack life. Maybe it was time he did.

  He crossed the kitchen and lifted that stubborn chin so their gazes met. “Give me a chance. One date.”

  She bit her bottom lip.

  “What if you like me?”

  She laughed. “That’s what I’m afraid of.” The sadness never left her eyes.

  “See, we’re making progress.” Were they? “Not an hour ago, you were threatening to introduce my testicles to my pancreas.”

  She laughed again. “Fine. One date.”

  The acceptance stunned Betty as it slipped past her tongue. One moment, she was hell bent on sending Ken home and the next, they were going on a date. What had happened?

  Her cell phone rang and she jumped. Fumbling it from her pocket, she was thankful for the distraction. Ken kept twisting her thoughts and the next thing she knew she was agreeing to things she hadn’t intended to.

  “Hello?” she answered the call.

  “Hi! This is Beth. Are you Ken’s new girlfriend?” The girl on the line sounded bubbly and full of sweetness like cotton candy.

  The hairs on the back of Betty’s neck rose. “What if I am?” What part did Beth play in Ken’s life? He’d said he wasn’t involved with another woman. A wolf like him—handsome and charming didn’t live a lonely life. Was she one of his groupies? A low growl rolled in Betty’s chest.

  “Easy, sweetie. We’re just friends. I’m the pack omega and apparently Ken’s slave. Can I speak with him?”

  Betty fought the urge to disconnect. She didn’t like the familiar way Beth said Ken’s name. Then she saw his smug look. Of course he could hear their conversation with his shifter hearing. She shoved the phone at him.

  “Hi, Beth, did you find my dogs? No, I don’t treat you like a slave.”

  After the chaos of this morning, Betty had forgotten his pets were loose on the street. She ran her fingers through her hair, wanting to pull the strands in frustration. Yes, Ken was attractive and proving himself to be quite charming and one hell of a kisser, but she wasn’t looking for Mr. Perfect. She was still trying to figure out who she was outside her pack, as a human. How could she do that with a shifter boyfriend?

  “That’s great!” he continued. “Did you put them in the house?”

  Beth had keys to his home? That ended now.

  Betty mentally gasped at that reaction and moved away from Ken to clear her head. Had she just growled at a stranger on the phone? She stepped into the living room and sank onto the couch, missed, and ended up sitting on the floor, back leaning against the cushion. This was terrible.

  Shifters dreamed of finding their soulmates. Most never did. She should be overjoyed. Ken seemed nice and was hot. Instead, her heart wouldn’t stop racing and her palms were clammy. The fact she’d be tied to a pack forever as an outsider…

  She’d left the Riverbend Pack because she didn’t want that kind of life. New Port was a fresh start where she could explore being human and it turned out that it wasn’t that bad, as long as she was surrounded by dogs and human friends.

  Ken had just thrown a wrench in her plans.

  He peeked around the kitchen doorway, phone still pressed to his ear. “I need a ride. I’m at Almost Home Animal Rescue.” He paused. “I’m not sure. Google the address.”

  She could hear Beth yelling from where she sat.

  He winked at Betty and held the phone from his ear. For a dominant wolf, he was quite patient with the other shifter. Where in the pack hierarchy did Ken land?

  “Use the GPS.” He hung up and sat cross legged in fro
nt of Betty. “You’re pale. Do you need more food?”

  Typical shifter fix-all. Food. The gesture was almost comforting in an old familiar way. Her dad would have said the exact same thing. “I’m fine. It’s been a busy morning.”

  She had carried an unconscious shifter into a kennel, gotten assaulted by said shifter, and then bonded for life. Not a typical start to her day.

  “Some wolves in my old pack would have torn any omega into confetti if they yelled.” She shuddered at the memories.

  “Beth is our only omega. She’s spoiled.”

  “Only one?” Most packs carried more. Omegas didn’t care about pack rank or dominance. They were the heartbeat, the fun, the unity that wolves craved. Without an omega, most packs dissolved into chaos.

  “Yeah. We’re working on recruiting more.” Ken shrugged. “No one else would dare speak to me that way.”

  Betty wanted to shake him. “If she’s your only omega, why send her for your dogs?” She needed to know how deep this relationship went.

  Why did Beth have a key to his fucking home?

  “She’s the only one who they’re not afraid of. They’ll come when she calls.”

  “Oh.” Still didn’t answer her burning question. She took a deep breath and held her chin high.

  He raised his eyebrow. “Are you a little bit jealous?”

  “In your dreams.” She’d just totally lied to a shifter who could smell it.

  He looked too pleased with himself as he caressed her cheek. “You know what? I would have been disappointed if you had stripped and rode me like a cowgirl. This is much more fun.”

  A blush sizzled across her cheeks, setting her face on fire. She was in deep shit without a shovel.

  “I’m going to savor every minute of this hunt.” He brushed his thumb over her lips, feather light. His touch tingled in such delicious ways.

  She closed her eyes and leaned toward him for a more intimate kiss.

  A horn blared outside, sending her dogs below her apartment into a fit of barking.

  Ken jumped to his feet. “I’ll pick you up at six tonight. Wear something sexy.”

  Then he was gone from her apartment, leaving her breathless and without so much as a goodbye kiss.

  She folded in half, her cheek resting on the old wooden floor. He had left her phone next to her and she dialed.

  On the other end, her dad answered. He sounded half asleep.

  “Daddy, please tell me there’s a cure for soulmates.”

  Chapter Five

  “Why would you want to cure that?” Betty’s father cleared his throat. “What time is it? Pumpkin, it’s not even seven AM. What are we talking about?” He grunted as if getting out of bed. She heard her mom mumble something in the background. “Go back to sleep.” He spoke to Mom, not to her. “Sounds like a shifter thing. I’ll take care of it.”

  “Dad?”

  “I’m here. Let me turn on the coffeemaker.” More shuffling noises. She found comfort in all these familiar sounds. Her parents weren’t morning people. Both worked evening jobs—her mother at the restaurant and her father a security guard. “Okay, go. Something about soulmates.”

  “Can a person reject their soulmate? I mean, is there a way to stop it?”

  “Why would they?” He yawned. “Finding your mate is supposed to be the best thing to happen to a shifter. Your perfect match. A happily ever after.”

  “For a shifter…” She let that statement hang, because that was the crux of her problem. Was she or wasn’t she a shifter?

  “Do shifters find their mates outside their race? Like a human?” She thought she’d known the answer, then this had happened.

  Silence answered her. She heard the ring of the coffeemaker finishing in the background.

  “Dad?” Had he fallen asleep?

  “Who are we talking about, pumpkin?”

  Her stomach hurt, twisting in knots. “Me.”

  “You found your soulmate?” His voice rose and he suddenly sounded wide awake.

  “He found me.” She wiped a tear from her eye before it spilled down her cheek. “It’s a long story.” She hated the way her voice shook. It wasn’t fear. Well, not really. She wasn’t afraid of Ken. Just what he represented.

  “I have all day. Start at the beginning. Oh wait, your mother wants to listen.”

  He placed her on speaker phone. Mom must have heard him shouting about her finding a soulmate.

  Betty could hear her mother cooking breakfast while Betty gave them the details, leaving out the kissing parts because they were her parents. Though they were miles and miles away, the conversation felt like home, sitting on her worn living room floor, pouring out her heart. She missed them so much it left her hollow at times.

  “Did you smell the mating bond though?” Dad asked around a mouthful.

  “No.” Her sense of smell was better than humans, but much less than a full-blooded shifter. “To be honest, the place smells of dog and burgers. I might have mistaken the mating scent for something else. I was kind of worried about being eaten at the time.”

  “So he could be lying—ouch.” The sound of her mom smacking him upside the head made Betty grin. “He could be. She can’t always smell a lie.” Dad sounded defensive.

  “Don’t listen to your father. He’s being a…father. There’s more to soulmates than smell. Remember the Connellys down the street? They’re soulmates. I brought over a plate of cookies when they first moved into the neighborhood. George said they were the best cookies he ever had and the next thing I knew, Martha had me by the throat.” Mom had never told her that story. “Your father wanted to press charges but the alpha stepped in and explained that the newly mated pair were—uh—hormonal the first few months.”

  “Hormonal, huh?” That was her mother’s way of saying horny.

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Wait, are you asking me if I’m hormonal?” The blushing returned with forest fire intensity. Betty was close to her mother, but not that open about her sex life.

  Where was an earthquake when she wanted the ground to swallow her whole?

  “That’s it. We’re on our way,” her father announced.

  Betty sat up straight. “No, it’s fine. Don’t do that.” The last time her father had visited, he’d adopted one of her dogs without permission from either her or her mother. Every time he came, he left with another canine brother. Her mother was ready to build him a permanent doghouse in the yard and make him live there.

  What had she done? He had also pissed on the borders of her lawn, marking the territory. You know, just in case any single male shifters came sniffing around. It had taken Betty days to wash the stink away with a borrowed hose.

  This behavior was pre-mating Ken.

  “Let me take care of this.” She couldn’t imagine what her father would do, but whatever it was, pissing off the New Port Pack would mean trouble for Dad with his own alpha. Pack politics sucked. Cross-pack politics were deadly. Her father was low enough on the totem pole of pack hierarchy that he could visit her with just a phone call to the New Port Pack office.

  The higher up the chain of power, the more difficult it was to travel.

  “No hormonal werewolf is going to touch my pup, claiming to be her soulmate without verification if it’s true. That’s final.” He hung up on her.

  She snapped her mouth shut as she stared at her cell phone screen. Wow, she’d thought things were bad five minutes ago.

  Could she rent a time machine to stop herself from ever making that call?

  In a daze, she shuffled back to the kitchen. The burger and coffee and stress were developing into a stomach acid’s version of the perfect storm. Digging through her cupboards, she finally found her antacids and chased them down with cold coffee.

  She pinched her arm and flinched. Nope, not a nightmare. She knew her dad. An army wouldn’t stop him once he made up his mind. The only one who could talk sense into him was his alpha and she wasn’t touching that rat’s nes
t of trouble with a ten-foot pole. Some things were just better left in the past and forgotten.

  Chris, Riverbend’s alpha, hadn’t been the alpha who declared she wasn’t a shifter. Chris was her high school boyfriend who had killed that alpha. He didn’t talk things through with shifters, like Ken had done with Beth. Ordering shifters around was more Chris’s style. He had the power to threaten the pack and follow through on those threats. Betty understood that sometimes this was needed to keep certain wolves under control, and Chris liked control.

  She’d known that firsthand when they had dated. Leaving Riverbend meant leaving her family, but it also meant escaping Chris. So, no calling ex-boyfriends about new ones. Not even to stop her parents from barging into her life.

  Down in the kennel, the dogs barked. They needed their walks. Luckily, she partnered with a retirement community down the block that didn’t allow pets. Many of the residents volunteered at her rescue. Otherwise she’d never have time to make her soaps and shampoos.

  She descended to let the dogs outside to play in smaller more manageable groups, then sat at her desk to sort through yesterday’s mail.

  Orphanage fundraiser. Electric, water, and phone bills joined the fundraiser in the recycle bin. Maybe she should look for a job and catch up on bills before her utilities were turned off. A notice from her landlord again. She held it at arm’s length. The rent had been paid, so what could this be? Money was super tight. She eyed the bin filled with bills and unwanted ads then turned her attention back to the landlord’s letter. This was the third one in a month. Maybe she should read it first.

  With a heavy heart, she tore it open.

  Hate to inform you…building sold…three months ago…eviction process…two weeks to move out.

  She stared at the letter of doom, unable to move. Whose grave had she pissed on for such terrible luck in one fucking morning? Finally, the need for oxygen kicked in and she breathed. In and out. The tight panic in her chest made it difficult. Two weeks?

  She pushed herself onto her feet and zombie walked to the backroom, then crawled into Peanut’s kennel with a blanket. Two weeks?