You okay today?
A text from Brandon came through, making me smile toward the end of my shift.
Yes. I’m working right now and about to go home. Thanks for the security, but are we sure it’s necessary?
I put away the cart, and Iona showed me how to clock in and out.
Keeping you safe is everything. I’m on duty tonight if you see a good-looking wolf outside your window.
That made me laugh. I might have a sandwich for said wolf.
I look forward to it. Drive safe.
Chapter Nine
Having Brandon outside my window all night did not keep me from sleeping—eventually. As in, once I did go to bed—at his insistence—I slept deep and well. My dreams took me back into the forest I seemed to be spending a lot of sleep time in, but, if it was anything significant or scary, I didn’t remember it when I woke in the morning. What did spring to mind as soon as my eyes opened was sitting on the rocking chair pulled right up to the window, arms folded on the sill, and talking with him. Not about anything significant or deep, and certainly not about the other pack he was here to protect me from, just silly things like what we’d had for lunch and whether oven fries were worth bothering with.
Peaceful, smiling conversation. And though we didn’t hold hands or kiss or exchange any sappy sweet comments or anything like in the books I loved, it was the most romantic night of my life.
Probably said more about my lack of a typical teenage dating life than anything. Still, I carried the memory with me all day as I ate breakfast, went to class and home to get ready for shopping. Remembering things he’d said and my replies. Agonizing over whether I’d sounded as naive and immature as I probably was. A guy like him would have lots of experience. His sandy-brown hair with the one troublesome lock that fell over his forehead sometimes, and those golden eyes looking right through me. If I was ever tempted to lie to him, I’d be sure he’d know.
A few texts had decided I would meet Christie on Main Street where all the shops in the small town were located. She’d informed me there was an outlet mall about thirty miles away, along the highway, where we could go when we had a whole day, but for today, she wanted to take me to her favorite boutique, and I’d noticed a bookstore near the restaurant I’d gone to with Brandon. They would probably have the J.R Wards or would at least order if they didn’t have them all.
I didn’t find any spots along the street, but signs indicated free parking around the back of the shop, so I followed them and found a nearly empty lot. I exited the car and moved around to the back for my chair then paused, wishing I didn’t need it. The doctor and the physical therapists had all been puzzled, insisting I should be able to walk, shift, do everything I could before the accident. They’d insisted it was in my mind and I needed to get past it, but after so many years, wouldn’t it have gone away? Finally, my aunt had spoken with a healer from thousands of miles away who called my condition by a specific name and prescribed the pills to help me stay as mobile as I was. I’d been taking them ever since, without fail.
I pulled the chair out and opened it then plopped into the seat, chiding myself for ingratitude. Not only did I have some mobility, more than others who’d been in similar accidents, I had a friend who wanted to take me shopping.
Something only a dream very recently.
I was also a guest of the local pack who had taken me under their wolfie wings with a vengeance. The sun shone, a light breeze ruffled my hair, and I’d emptied enough boxes, I’d found a cute outfit to wear today without having to search.
All pretty good!
I wheeled onto the sidewalk of the side street and around to Main Street where I found Christie waiting in front of Le Chic Bootique. She wore a short, black leather skirt and a white tee along with motorcycle-style boots. But her smile was pure sunshine.
“Hi.” I waved, looking at the letters painted on the front window of the store. “A typo?”
She shook her head. “Nope. The owner is a little goth, but you’ll see.”
Glad the door was wide enough for my chair, I entered the store. Drusilla, the owner, was more than a little bit dark. The front windows were tinted like a limo, allowing very little light in, but the inside was warm and glowing with candles in jars on high shelves as well as more traditional track lighting overhead. And as to the items for sale…well, suffice it to say Rebecca of Sunnybrook farm would have run screaming before she got two feet in the door. I was enchanted. Having someone else pick out my clothes for the first fifteen or so years of my life and only adding some online shopping recently, I wanted everything. Black leather and lace, chain belts and chunky boots. So. Much. Fun.
Drusilla brought armloads into the dressing rooms, insisting we enjoy ourselves, then returned to sip something from a stainless travel mug while we did. My plan to empty the store into my closet faded after I examined a few price tags, but I still ended up with what I thought of as a fancy date-night dress and heeled boots with chains looped around the ankles. Also a purse because that at least I could take with me everywhere. We loaded everything into the deep pocket on the back of my chair and wheeled toward the bookstore, where Christie picked up the entire series I’d recommended and a few others as well.
My lap piled with most of the books, we moved out onto the sidewalk again, giggling over who might be lucky enough to see the dress on me.
“You know you have someone in mind,” she teased.
“I do not! I haven’t had a date since I got here,” I protested then, in a lower voice, admitted, “Or ever.”
Christie wheeled to stand in front of my chair, blocking me. “A stunner like you? How is that possible?” She cast a glance around. “Let’s go into the soda fountain and split a sundae or something and you can tell me more about your mysterious life. Did you grow up in a cave?”
“There is a soda fountain in this town? Are we in the 1950s?”
She rolled her eyes. “Sometimes I think so. But Drusilla’s Bootique isn’t old-fashioned, is it?”
“Sure isn’t. She’s awfully pale.” I leaned close to Christie and lowered my voice. “Do you think that’s blood in the cup?”
She put a finger over her lips and shook her head hard. “Never say that.”
“But I—”
“No, just don’t. Drusilla is sensitive. Right. She’s sensitive, and we don’t want to hurt her feelings.”
“Oh right.” Now I felt terrible. “She was so nice to us, too. I’d never want to make her feel bad because she’s a little different. I totally understand what that’s like.”
“Oh here’s the place.” Christie held the door open for me, and I rolled into a drugstore perfect for the 1950s. A pharmacy counter in the back, some beauty and health items in a section nearby, and a long marble counter with stools and a few tables made up the full picture. “What do you think?”
“Look at all the chrome and the red leather booths. And is the counter marble?”
“I think so.” She beamed. “Now, what flavor sundae shall we get?”
The choices were extensive, and after making our selections to the quite authentic-looking soda jerk, we found a table by the front window. I left my chair in a corner and sat opposite Christie, enjoying people watching and gossip.
“Oh hell.” Christie cut herself off in the middle of a story about some pack teens getting in trouble on a dare, when two guys came in. “What are those clowns doing here?”
“Clowns?”
“They are from another pack outside of town, but closer to another actually. The alpha doesn’t want them coming in here because, unlike the kids I was telling you about, when these clowns act out, people get hurt. Or worse.” She grabbed her phone and typed into it. “I’m letting the alpha know.”
She read a reply and typed some more. “He wants details, so I’m telling him we’re sitting here and they haven’t talked to us or anything.”
My phone buzzed, and I fished it out of my pocket. “Brandon is texting me. He says…oh.
He is with the alpha and says we should stay here until someone comes to escort us home. That other pack must be really bad news.” And at least a couple of them had been outside my house. Were these others following us? I didn’t like the sound of that at all.
“Well, that’s new. Usually they keep their distance.” The soda jerk, in his funny paper hat and all-white clothes, brought over our sundae. Brandon said, “I guess we should eat up then, before we get dragged off like damsels in distress.”
I dug into the chocolate, marshmallow, ube sundae with gusto. Ube, purple yam, had become a new favorite. “Yep. This is amazing!”
Brandon and a guy I’d seen at the bonfire turned up a half hour later, and I was lucky enough to have Brandon follow me home. He informed me my guards would now be around twenty-four/seven and, when I argued, told me to take it to the alpha if I didn’t like it.
It wasn’t easy to achieve independence.
Chapter Ten
By the time I got home, I’d descended the dark tunnel of pissed off to the point of no return.
Who did these people think they were? So some wolves came onto my land and decided I was a prize they wanted to take home.
There were these people called the police.
I was an emotional baker. I baked when I was sad. I baked when I was mad, and I tended to bake when I generally had a bad day.
Needless to say, baking was in order today.
I’d pulled into my driveway, only to pull back out and make a quick trip to the nearest market for flour, butter, sugar, eggs and anything remotely close to unhealthy for you.
Tonight seemed like a good night to make brownies. Salted caramel and cheesecake swirled brownies.
Because why not.
I’d just put everything away and started in on the batter when a soft knock rang in my ears. Better not be Brandon. He was the reason I was baking, him and his pack of overgrown, macho, furry-assed…
“Who is it?” I called through the closed door.
“It’s Moss.”
Okay, he was one of the pack, but not the one I was pissed at. I pulled open the door to find him leaning against the doorframe, his simple pair of cargo shorts with a white T-shirt making him look not so serious as he had the other day in class.
“Hey.” I moved away from the door, rolling backward.
“Hey…oh my God. What’s that smell?” His eyes widened, gaze darting toward the kitchen.
“Um, brownie batter. Did you want to come in, or are you on guard tonight?”
He chuckled. “I have duty later, but Escher is on guard right now.”
“Oh…” I waved him in, eager to get my delicious treats into the oven. “So, why did you come early?”
Jeez, way to sound needy. Too late. Words and water, easy to spill and impossible to recover.
He followed me to the kitchen and leaned against the counter with his butt. Damn, the man was a good leaner. He made it look so sexy like he was comfortable anywhere, leaning into any situation with ease.
“I came to talk to you about your security.”
I stopped lining the pan with parchment to shoot him the worst stink eye I could muster. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
He chuckled, and the sound seemed to travel the distance between us and weave its way into my chest, warming me from the inside out. “Look, Wendi, there’s some things maybe you don’t understand. I just came to talk to you about it and why it’s so important to keep you safe.”
Gods, these men threw the word safe around a lot.
It would be great if they could start throwing the word independence around a little more.
“Go ahead. Try,” I snarked back.
He came around the island and took the pan from me while I opened the oven door but had the good sense not to try and take over the entire operation. I slid the pan in and closed the door, careful to set the timer. I had a feeling with Moss’s green eyes and panty-melting smile, I might forget. “Wait, did Brandon set you up to this?”
He sighed and sat at the table. “No, this was my idea. It doesn’t mean you’re weak. I want to lead with that. We don’t think you’re weak.”
He led with the right thing. “Explain.”
Biting down on his bottom lip, he reached across the table like he wanted to touch me but then put his hand in his lap. “It’s not because of your handicap we want to protect you, Wendi. It’s because you are more vulnerable.”
I passed him a water bottle and took one myself. I tried to bite the inside of my cheek to stop from laughing. “Sounds like it’s because of my handicap.”
He sighed and tugged at his light-red hair. “You’re more vulnerable because you’re an unmated female living on the outskirts of another pack’s land, and you are unable to shift and protect yourself, sweetheart. It’s a far cry from, we’re here to beat our chests and look manly because you can’t walk.”
I couldn’t help it. I laughed at his joke, especially when he got up and showed me said chest beating.
Also, it looked like both of us were going to ignore the sweetheart thing. Too bad my heart was fluttering from just one word.
“What do you mean I’m unmated?”
He looked down his nose at me before sitting.
“I mean, I know what unmated means. But why is that a big deal? Is everyone around here…waiting to hump me?”
He choked on his water. Full-on, hands raised in the air, taking big gasps of breath, choked.
“Not exactly, no. But there are shifters who don’t care about true mates. They will just…let’s say claim…any female they choose, and it looks like they’ve chosen you.”
I wrung my hands in my lap. “My parents were true mates. I remember how they looked at each other. My mom even had this little cross-stitch where she’d embroidered a tent and some trees with the date underneath. The date they met.”
It was in a box somewhere. I needed to find it.
“So you understand the profoundness of waiting for your true mate. Anything else would be…settling.”
I supposed I did.
“But I can’t shift,” I murmured. A shifter male would never want me for a mate. I’d be a burden. A vulnerable person they had to watch over and take care of.
Someone who could never run with them.
He huffed out a soft laugh. “Any worthy male would be blessed to have you as a mate, Wendi. It…” He patted his chest right above his heart. His mate would be one lucky female.
The timer on the oven went off, and I rolled over quickly to get the brownies out and set them on top of the stove. “Want some coffee since you’re going to be up late?”
“That would be great. Um, can I help?”
He got up and side by side we took out the cups and made a pot of coffee. When the brownies cooled, I cut them into squares, and we returned to the table.
My entire core clenched as he took the first bite. I might be naive, but the sounds he was making… Well, they had to be close to sex.
His eyes closed as he chewed, and when he swallowed, he opened them wide. “Wendi, these are incredible.”
“I’m glad you like them.” I bit into mine, letting the chocolate and creaminess burst in my mouth, soothing the day with one bite.
A knock at the door jolted me. “Who could it be?”
“It’s Escher. It must be later than I thought.”
“How did you know?” I asked as he got up to get the door.
He pointed to his nose. No way he could smell who it was from the other side of the door, but Escher came in and waved to me. He had shorts on, only shorts hovering right above his pelvis.
And I thought the brownies were good. I offered Escher one, but he declined, and they shared some kind of nod.
“Good night, Wendi.” He was out the door before I could reply.
I’d been thinking about something since we mentioned mates but didn’t have the guts to ask.
“What’s on your mind?” Moss shucked his shirt right there in my living
room, I assumed since he was about to go out on guard duty, and that meant changing into his wolf form. It felt like I was in a constant showing of Magic Mike around here, without the cheesiness.
“What makes you think there’s something on my mind?” I asked, trying to keep other things out of my thoughts with those abs right in my line of sight.
I was failing at keeping the naughty thoughts away, for the record.
“I can tell. Spill it, female.”
I sighed. “How do you know who your mate is?” There it was, out in the open. My cheeks heated, and I pressed my palms to them to try and cool them off.
Moss stepped forward and crouched in front of me, taking my hands in his. His thumbs rubbed the tops in circles. “You just know. Your wolf communicates with you about it, too. Usually, they are the first to recognize their true mate. After all, they’ve been searching for her their whole lives. She smells like the best brownies and cookies and cake in the entire world. Once you’ve seen her, no other female in the world compares. Because they never did. Your mate is made for you, and you for her. Your whole world revolves around her happiness, her safety, her needs. They all become first in your life. You would die before you let anything happen to her.”
He looked down at our joined hands and blew out a breath.
“Oh…” I managed to answer, most likely sounding like a total goober.
He smiled at me, and I realized his blush was as dark as mine felt. He swallowed, and I watched the bobbing of his Adam’s apple in complete awe.
“Speaking of protection, I’d better get out there. With you and those killer brownies in the same vicinity, I might be fighting off all kinds of creatures tonight. I should leave before the monsters come to call. Good night, sweetheart. Sleep well.”
He closed the door behind him, and I was left melting in my wheelchair.
Chapter Eleven
Did all packs have so many meetings? Or was this one over-the-top social. Or administrative. The invitation came via text, the morning of the get-together. Sunset. Alpha’s house. Run to follow. I hadn’t been quite sure what I was being asked to, but Brandon was on duty, so I stepped over and opened the window then thrust the phone outside.
Survivor: A Shifter of Consequence Tale (Shifters of Consequence Book 1) Page 5