by Zoe Chant
But it is that easy, his bear argued. It’s time we had a family. Haven’t we been lonely for long enough?
Desmond looked at Lisa again. It was true; he couldn’t imagine leaving. Now that he’d held her in his arms and heard her sigh his name, it felt impossible to be without her.
But how could he explain mates to her without making it sound like he was insane? Or worse, what would she say if he tried to explain that he was a shifter?
He needed his mate to know the truth. He couldn’t lie to her about something so important.
I need to do this the human way, he thought. We only just met. And I’m here for a whole week, depending on the business with that alpha wolf…
Carter, the werewolf. He had almost forgotten about him. Yes; his final job still had to be his top priority.
Carter was dangerous. He couldn’t drag Lisa into his shifter business. Once Carter was taken care of, he’d tell Lisa the truth. And maybe by then she’d know that despite his bear, Desmond would never harm her…
Desmond pressed a kiss to Lisa’s forehead and then drew her closer, enjoying the way her curves melded to his body.
A week to show her who I truly am. I can do this.
***
The next day, Desmond found himself crouching behind an abandoned warehouse with the stink of wolf strong in his nose.
He’d waited patiently for three hours after he had stumbled across the wolves tracks almost by accident.
Almost because he had thought observing the town’s liquor store would be a good place to start. And of course, not long after noon two men had shown up who fit the descriptions of the pack that ran with Carter. They stood out in this sleepy town with their stained leather and dirty bikes. It probably wouldn’t take long until they’d attract the attention of the local cops―if that hadn’t happened already.
Better to move quickly. Desmond didn’t like entanglements with the law. For one thing, it was impossible to explain just what he was doing. He’d have to shift to make them believe he was telling the truth, and he’d rather avoid that. It was never a good idea to attract too much attention towards their kind.
Furthermore, cops wouldn’t like the fact that shifters took care of their own business. But how do you deal with a pack of rogue werewolves when most people didn’t even know they existed? Shifters had their own laws, and their own justice. And he’d see Carter brought to justice.
Late in the afternoon, Desmond heard a rustling in the bushes. Only three cars had passed by all day; the warehouse was situated close to the fields. No one lived out here.
A perfect hide away for the pack―and hopefully also a sign that he’d get his hands on Carter without getting any humans injured.
The rustle came again. Somewhere in the distance, a bird called out, then fell silent.
Desmond kept watching.
A minute later, a wolf came strolling out of a bush. Quickly, it crossed the dirty courtyard, then it scrambled up a hill of broken furniture and garbage until it reached a window. It pawed at the glass and whined.
A long minute passed. The wolf whined again, high and impatient.
Nothing happened.
The wolf jumped down into the courtyard again and looked around, panting. Then it shifted, and Desmond found himself observing a naked, lean man, scarred and tattooed, in his twenties and wearing an unhappy scowl.
The man hurried over to the door of the warehouse and pulled at it. When he found it locked, he banged at the door. There was no answer.
“Fuck you, Carter,” he called out. “You said you’d fucking wait for me!”
A moment later, Desmond had pulled off his clothes as quietly as he could and shifted.
The man only saw him a heartbeat before he attacked, but that split second was enough for the werewolf to shift back as well. Desmond collided with the animal, and in a tangle of limbs they hit the wall of the warehouse.
The wolf was slender and scruffy, almost starved. The bottom of the pack, a messenger maybe, but not someone high up in Carter’s pack structure.
Frustrated, Desmond batted away the slavering jaws that tried to close around his throat. Another hard knock from his massive paw left the wolf dazed, and then Desmond locked his teeth around the werewolf’s throat, biting down hard enough to break the skin a little to let the man know this was no empty threat.
The wolf whimpered and struggled. Desmond bit down harder until the werewolf yelped in pain and stopped.
A moment later, they had both shifted back. Desmond had the guy on his stomach, arms twisted securely behind his back, before the shifter could even speak a single word.
“Son of a―” the werewolf groaned.
Desmond twisted his arm harder in warning. “Where’s Carter?” he demanded.
The wolf growled again. “Fuck off. I’m not telling you anything.”
Without a word Desmond pulled the shifter up, keeping a firm grip on his arms. He dragged him over to where his clothes were waiting, then forced him back down onto the ground and closed a pair of handcuffs around his wrists.
“Come on,” the shifter now whined. “Carter is going to be so fucking mad! He’ll rip you apart!”
“Yeah? I think he’ll rip you apart first.” Desmond laughed without compassion when the wolf yanked at the cuffs without success.
“I’ll ask again. Where’s Carter?” Desmond demanded, fishing his phone from his pocket to send a quick text.
The man was giving him a sullen stare. “How the fuck would I know?”
Desmond snorted. “I can see that he’s not here. So?”
“So? He left, asshole! Cops were starting to snoop around.”
“And?” Desmond asked, then grabbed the shifter’s hair to pull his head up. “Listen, buddy. We know what you and your friends have been up to. You’re going in for questioning. Do you want to make it even worse for you? Do you really think Carter can save you from the Council?”
The werewolf cursed and struggled again. Desmond kept watch. The cuffs wouldn’t help if the man tried to shift again―but Desmond only had to watch until Charles, the acquaintance he’d just texted, would arrive. He was a lion shifter and a member of the Council that presided over shifter matters they could not trust humans to deal with. He’d take the werewolf off Desmond’s hands.
And then all that was left to finish the job was to find where the hell Carter and the pack had moved to, get his hands on Carter, and call Charles again to take him in to see the Council. They’d deal with him.
But first, Desmond needed to figure out where the pack’s new hide-away was situated…
“Fuck,” the wolf whined again. “Carter will kill me.”
Desmond snorted. “Not where you’re going, buddy. Do you really think Carter will go against the Council for you?”
After a moment, the shifter growled in defeat. “All right. Listen, Carter doesn’t tell me anything. But there was a new place the guys had been sniffing out. A barn, near Crimson Creek.”
Desmond tried to recall his map of the area once more. With sudden alarm, he realized that the creek wasn’t far from Lisa’s farm.
On the other hand, there was nothing on her farm the pack was interested in. They were notorious for terrorizing bars and robbing stores. There hadn’t been any reports of assaults on farmers, apart from the vanishing of livestock that was more or less unavoidable with a werewolf pack on the move.
“All right,” Desmond said slowly. “You’d better tell the truth, because if the Council finds out you’re lying to protect your alpha… They can lock you up for a long time, buddy. No shifting. No running.”
The werewolf whined again. “I’m just doing what Carter told me to! It’s not my fault!”
Desmond snorted and eyed his phone again. Charles had said he’d stay close by. If Charles had managed to find a free room in the town, it shouldn’t take him more than a few minutes.
When it became clear that Desmond wasn’t interested in his excuses, the werewolf remained s
ullenly silent while they waited. Once or twice, he twitched, as though he was thinking of shifting. But every time, a look at Desmond seemed to convince him that running wasn’t a good idea. Or maybe it was the memory of the strength of Desmond’s paws.
Ten minutes later, Charles arrived in an old, banged-up van. He was a suave lion shifter who looked every inch the Council lawyer if it weren’t for his obvious muscles.
“No word of this can get out until I’ve got my hands on Carter,” Desmond warned him as he clasped his shoulder in greeting.
Charles looked the werewolf over and then snorted with disgust. “Sure, Desmond. We’ll keep your wolf looked away until you get us the big one.”
“Won’t take much longer,” Desmond muttered as they wrestled the werewolf towards the van.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” the man groaned when Charles opened the door.
Inside, a kennel awaited―stainless steel bars hidden behind the worn exterior.
“In you go,” Charles said brightly, his smile all teeth.
In the end, it took a little more force, but the werewolf had no chance against the combined strength of lion and bear shifter.
Desmond checked his phone again. Fifteen minutes had passed. Maybe twenty minutes since the wolf had arrived. Given Carter’s chaotic leadership of his pack, they might not even worry if someone at the bottom of the hierarchy was missing for a day or two. From the looks of it, the shifter was no stranger to falling asleep dead drunk in some forgotten corner.
“Don’t disappoint us,” Charles said and gave Desmond’s shoulder a light slap.
Desmond raised a brow. “Have I ever?”
He’d always delivered. He’d considered it a duty. There weren’t a lot of predators who could hold up in a fight against a bear. So who, if not him, would stand up against those that decided to abuse their strength?
But he couldn’t build an entire life on duty. That wasn’t the way of the bear, either. With half a life spent protecting society from danger, maybe Desmond had done enough. Maybe he’d truly done enough to settle down, to enjoy the peace he’d helped to defend.
“This is the last one, you know,” he told Charles. “The last job. After this, I’m done.”
“Really?” Charles raised a brow, his blond mane gleaming in the sun. “I’m surprised. Never thought we’d lose you. Well… good luck. And we’ll see if you reconsider. What’s life without some excitement, after all?”
Desmond chuckled softly and thought of Lisa sleeping in his arms. Lisa teaching him how to paint bunny ears. Lisa’s curvy backside getting nipped by a pony.
“I think I’ll be able to find my own…”
***
After the werewolf was dealt with, Desmond had driven out to the creek the shifter had mentioned. He'd made sure to keep his distance from the fields where the barn was located, but when he found a hidden spot near the creek, he parked the car and shifted into his bear.
His heightened senses picked up the scent of the river: running water, the delicious aroma of fish just waiting to be caught, the trails of mice, rabbits, deer.
It was strangely quiet. Birds should have been singing. Mice should be rustling in the fields, running back and forth between the sprouting stalks of green.
Instead, all he heard was the cawing of crows in the distance.
Here was the first sign that the shifter had told the truth. Something had moved into this area. Something dangerous that had scared the wildlife.
Desmond followed the course of the river. It didn’t take long until he found what he’d been looking for. Ten minutes of running north, and the wind brought the scent of wolf to him. It was faint. If there were wolves moving in the fields, they were still at a distance.
But it was the sign he had been looking for.
Careful now, he followed the meandering creek northward. The water was shallow here, and there would have been good fishing at the spots where it formed deep pools behind stones that barred its way, but Desmond had a duty, and he didn't stop.
At last he came to where the river made a long turn. Thorny bushes grew along the creek that hid him from view, and he ventured into the undergrowth, making his way up a small hill until he found a good vantage point.
As the map had told him, the barn was nearby now. He could see it well. Two cars and several bikes were parked next to it, and a few boxed were stacked up next to the doors.
Desmond sniffed. The scent of wolf was still faint. They had moved in, it seemed, but then had left again, perhaps to hunt in the fields. Or perhaps they had made their way back into town to get more drinks.
In any case, he was close to Carter now.
Desmond settled in for the watch.
Hours passed. Dusk arrived, then darkness. The sounds of nature were still subdued, and every now and then Desmond caught the faintest whiff of wolf. At last, the sound of engines announced the werewolves’ return, and Desmond watched quietly as they came to a screeching halt in front of the barn, a pick-up truck and three shifters on bikes, all of them quite obviously drunk.
And in their midst, Carter. He was unmistakable: shaggy, bleached blond hair. The distinctive scar. The air of an overconfident alpha.
Desmond smiled as he watched him jump from his bike and stroll into the barn, a bottle of vodka in his hand.
He'd found the wolves' lair. He'd found their alpha.
Now he just had to wait for the right moment to make his move.
***
It was very late when Desmond arrived back at the farm. He was not surprised to find all the lights out, and he was careful not to make a sound and wake the other guests when he made his way back to his room.
He’d told Lisa that he’d be out late. He hadn’t seen her since the morning, and he missed her with a sudden, fierce ache, but it couldn’t be changed.
Carter was important because he was dangerous.
Lisa was just as important, but first Desmond had to make certain that her farm would be safe.
In the morning, when he woke, Lisa was already busy feeding the ponies and the sheep. He could watch her from his window. A horde of ponies was eagerly milling around the fence of the meadow, waiting for her to pour a bucket-full of oats into the trough. There were no children to be seen this time. Desmond watched as Lisa paused for a moment, surveying the eagerly feeding ponies, then wiping the hair out of her face.
Looking at her like that, with the sun illuminating her wind-swept blonde hair, he could barely believe that he'd held her in his arms two days ago. She'd seemed understanding when he'd told her that he would be gone all day yesterday; still, he couldn't wait to hold her in his arms once more. The last thing he wanted was to make her believe that he didn't care.
He cared. A lot. And because he cared, he'd have to take care of that werewolf.
When he made it outside after a quick shower, Lisa was nowhere to be seen. The ponies were still munching on a bale of hay she must have left them. When Desmond passed, they all stopped and simultaneously looked up. Desmond could feel them staring all the way to the stable.
There were sounds coming from the inside. When he slowly ventured into the building, he found her perched on a stack of straw. As soon as she saw him, her face lit up, and he felt the familiar sensation of heat rushing through him, his stomach twisting and turning until he was grinning like an idiot.
I never knew it would feel like this, he thought. How could I have doubted it even for one moment? She's my mate. Everything about her is perfect. Even the straw in her hair.
She gestured for him to come closer, smiling just as widely, although she made a sign to be quiet.
Curious now, he climbed up the stack of straw bales to join her. From this vantage point, he had a good view of the neighboring box.
"Look," Lisa whispered into his ear with delight. She nodded at the pony that stood in one corner of the box.
Desmond leaned forward a little―and then he saw it. A foal resting in the straw.
It w
as tiny. Its coat was gleaming wetly, and as he watched, the mare began to lick it again with a low, happy grumble.
“It happened half an hour ago. You just missed it,” Lisa murmured in excitement.
She took his hand and squeezed it as the foal tried to rise for the first time. Its tiny legs gave out, and it fell back into the straw.
Desmond looked at Lisa, who was still smiling widely, her eyes filled with happiness. He squeezed around her hand, his throat suddenly tight. This felt so natural. Everything felt so natural with Lisa. He'd worried that maybe it had just been one passionate night for her. That she hadn't felt the same insistent pull that he did.
But here, in the quiet stable with dust dancing in the rays of light that fell in from the window, with a tiny, newborn foal stubbornly trying again and again to stand on its shaky legs, he felt like he belonged.
If there was a place in the universe where he was supposed to be, then it was surely here, by Lisa's side, sharing her joy and excitement.
Impetuously, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her cheek.
"Sorry I wasn't here yesterday," he whispered. "I'd promised to meet a business acquaintance for drinks."
Her eyes gleamed. "Not much of a holiday, is it? I'll have to make sure we find a way to get you to relax."
Desmond swallowed and squeezed her hand again. "This. This is just perfect," he said quietly.
He wrapped his arm around Lisa's shoulder, and then they continued to sit quietly on their stack of straw, watching as the foal took its first uncertain steps, guided along by the nose of its mother in this new world.
***
Desmond eyed the flock of sheep that were staring back with open hostility and suspicion. After finally leaving Lisa to her work―not without claiming another kiss and the promise of a shared evening―he'd decided to use the morning for some quick reconnaissance. He had yet to explore the complete lands of the farm. That hadn't initially be on his list for this mission. But now, with the wolves closer and Lisa so important to him, he felt the bear's instinctive need to mark his own territory and protect everything within it.