by Celia Kyle
The minute he’d reached the epicenter of the fire, his wolf had dug through the scents, past the smoke and gas, to find the unmistakable aroma of wolf. A wolf that didn’t belong to him. What fueled his beast’s fury the most was that this strange wolf wasn’t much of a stranger. Something about the scent tickled a faint memory, but he’d been too busy dousing the flames—and worrying about going feral—to give it the attention it deserved. The Jeep thumped into a particularly deep pothole, jolting Mason from his thoughts and damned near out of his seat.
“Shit.” He wiped the back of his hand across his brow, only to find it dirtier than before. “Double shit.”
He pulled up to the pack house right at the gloaming of dusk, and he spotted someone sitting on the front porch. The figure raised a hand in greeting and then stood, obviously waiting for him. Mason sighed. All he’d wanted was a shower, half of a cow, and bed. That didn’t look like it’d happen anytime soon.
“Great,” he grumbled, throwing the truck in park and bracing himself for whatever fresh trouble was brewing in the Blackwood pack. An alpha’s job was never done.
“Evening, Mason.”
Of course, it was Drew Cooper, the pack’s healer and Ashtown’s vet. The poor guy avoided crowds at all costs, even to the point of not stepping foot in his own waiting room if too many patients were out there. And he’d sought out Mason. His shitty day just got shittier.
When Drew stepped closer to shake his alpha’s hand, Mason held up his soot-blackened palms and grimaced.
“Trust me, that wouldn’t turn out well.” He headed toward the back of the house. “I better wash some of this off or Ida will hand me my ass on a silver platter.”
He trudged to the water spigot out back, Drew following at a respectful distance. Mason wondered if he should have called for Kade and Gavin first. Just to make sure they didn’t have a repeat of the incident with Anders. Then again, he barely had the energy to walk, let alone get into another violent tangle.
“How’s Anders?” Mason turned on the water and held the hose over his head. Even in the gathering darkness, he could see the water turn black from all the soot and ash.
“Fine. A few bruises, a good bit of his pride. He’s already back on duty.”
If Mason hadn’t lost control, he might have chuckled at the sentry’s wounded pride. Anders didn’t have anything to be ashamed of. Mason did. Scrubbing his face harder than was absolutely necessary, he hoped some of that shame would wash off with the soot. He tossed the hose to the ground and turned off the water before facing Drew.
“If you aren’t here about Anders, what brought you out?”
Drew’s face folded into one of his patented frowns of concern. Mason had learned to heed Drew’s frowns because they usually meant something had gone wrong. Mason didn’t have the patience for the healer to hem and haw.
“Go on and spit it out.”
He took a step closer to get out of the puddle of mucky water he’d created and then…
Mason froze in place, his lungs filled with a delicious scent that called his wolf forward with a single bound. It leapt to the front of his mind, analyzing the scent, and his entire world tilted on its axis. The sharp bite of fire and smoke and the strange wolf no longer consumed him. Instead, the stench was replaced by Drew’s familiar flavors tinged with something else. Something that set his heart racing and knees weak.
It was floral yet fruity, sweet with a hint of tang that he could almost taste. His mouth watered, and his wolf howled while his body yearned to be coated in the scent.
His mate.
Mason didn’t know who she was, but that taunting scent was all over Drew. Not just her natural flavors, but the coppery tang of her blood, too. She was injured?
His body moved of its own volition and Mason launched himself at the pack healer, knocking Drew flat on his back. He had the wolf pinned before the guy knew what hit him and his fangs descended, bared in a clear threat. His mate was injured and the man blinking up at him had her blood on him!
Flashing his teeth with a growled warning, Mason glared at Drew. His eyes latched on to the quickly pulsing vein in his quarry’s throat, and bloodlust threatened to overtake his control. Drew seemed to sense the danger as well. He froze and dropped his gaze away from his alpha’s furious scowl—a sign of submission that appeased his wolf—slightly.
“Where is she?” Mason’s hoarse voice rasped from his partially shifted throat.
Drew’s eyes snapped up to meet his, widened in surprise. “Mason, listen—”
“You have one minute,” Mason released Drew’s arms but retained his dominant position. He could only control himself for one minute more and then he’d be lost to the bloodlust. Besides, if he needed to kill the man, he didn’t want to have to chase him all over God’s creation.
“Her name is Lucy Morgan,” Drew fired off the words. “The Tiptons brought her to my office today. She was injured.”
Joy at hearing his mate’s name for the first time mixed with fear for her safety. Rage and fear built inside him to the point he couldn’t tell one from the other. “Why? How?”
Drew outlined the day’s events, from Lucy saving Charlie’s life, to the accidental bite he’d given her, to Drew doing his best to treat her. The healer took a deep breath and glanced pointedly at Mason’s hands. Hands that had somehow latched on to Drew’s shoulders and inched inward toward his throat. All on their own.
“I’ll take you to her if you’ll let me go.”
“He’s going to let you go regardless,” a voice called out from behind Mason.
He spun to find Kade closing in on them. Mason released Drew and jumped to his feet before his brother could humiliate him by dragging him off the poor, defenseless healer.
“Mason, what the hell is going—”
Mason held up a hand to silence Kade. He may have been out of line—common occurrence lately—but he was still the alpha of the Blackwood pack. They could play the “what else has the alpha fucked up?” game behind closed doors.
“How bad is it?” Mason refocused on the healer.
Drew shook his head. “I’d hoped it’d be no more than a scratch but when I cleaned her wound… Charlie bit her, Mason.”
Blood drained from Mason’s face and he staggered backward, fully aware of what those three words meant. For her. For him.
“Who are we talking about?” Kade spoke when Mason couldn’t.
He couldn’t focus enough to answer his brother. His mind was too busy trying to figure out a solution to the problem in front of him. Drew paused, waited for him to say the words, and then finally did the honors himself.
“It appears a woman I treated today is Mason’s mate.” Drew sighed and ran a hand through his short hair. “Which, obviously means Charlie isn’t. Since she’s human—”
“Oh shit,” Kade whispered. “What’s going to happen?”
“Wait. What?” Mason snapped, finally coming back to the conversation.
“I thought…” Drew started, his eyes darting nervously between the Blackwood brothers. “I thought you would have known. From her scent.”
As soon as the words were out, Mason realized he had known. There’d been a soft, almost buttery hint to Lucy’s flavors—a telltale sign of her humanity—but he’d been so overwhelmed by the discovery of his mate, he hadn’t put it all together.
“We can turn humans. I don’t understand why this is such a big deal?”
“Because I’m her mate. If I’d given her the mating bite,” Mason said in a monotone voice to mask his true emotions, “it would have triggered her transformation from human to wolf.”
Kade’s confused gaze bounced between Mason and Drew. “But since Charlie bit her…”
Mason didn’t have the stomach to answer.
“Well,” Drew started cautiously, “she could become very ill. Very ill.”
“Good God, stop pussyfooting around,” Kade growled.
Drew clenched his jaw before spitting it out. “She
could die. I came to tell Mason about the breach of our laws, but now that I know she’s destined to become a wolf’s mate—an alpha’s mate… I can’t be sure how Charlie’s bite will affect her.”
All Mason heard was “She could die.”
He’d waited for so long to find his mate, only to have her snatched away by a cruel twist of fate. No! Not on his watch. He wouldn’t allow it.
“Where is she?” This time Mason’s tone was calmer, though he was anything but calm on the inside.
“I took her to her parents’ house.” Drew handed Mason a slip of paper with an address scribbled on it.
The healer had come prepared. Mason slapped Drew on the back in a gesture of gratitude. He was a good man and didn’t deserve to be treated so roughly—but no one stood between an alpha and his mate.
“Hey, why wasn’t I invited to the party?” Gavin strolled up to the trio grinning, but his smile fell away when he got close enough to see the grim expressions on the rest of their faces. Then he caught the varying emotions clouding the air.
“Go find your five best sentries,” Mason instructed as he swept past them all and headed for his Jeep.
“For what?” Gavin asked as he jogged to keep up.
“To protect their alpha’s mate.”
Mason heard Gavin stumble. “We have an alpha mate?”
“Yes,” Mason barked. “She just doesn’t know it yet.”
Chapter Five
Driving down the street she’d grown up on had been tough. Pulling into the driveway of the house she’d grown up in had been almost unbearable.
None of it compared to the gut-wrenching despair of walking through her childhood home.
The cleaning crew she’d hired before driving to Ashtown—along with the gardener and caretaker she had on retainer—saw to everything inside and out. Not a speck of dust or hint of a cobweb lingered. After ten long years, the little house on Maple Street looked exactly as it had the day she’d left.
Maybe if sheets covered her mom’s favorite overstuffed chair and her dad’s golf clubs, she wouldn’t have felt their absence so keenly. She limped around from room to room, touching all the knickknacks and doodads that made a house a home. So familiar. She couldn’t shake the feeling they might walk through the door any second, claiming they’d forgotten their car keys. They’d kiss her on the forehead and rush back out, late for work.
Except, that was a silly, childish fantasy. The place on Maple was a mausoleum. In fact, her parents’ ashes sat proudly on the fireplace mantle, a bold reminder Lucy would never see them again.
Swiping the wetness from her cheeks, she sniffed and hobbled toward the kitchen, wondering why she hadn’t sold the place years ago. Though deep in her heart, she knew the answer. Nothing could compel her to part with the last vestiges of her life before it all went to shit.
Not for the first time, she sent a silent prayer of gratitude to the Park Service. If it hadn’t been for the fund they’d set up to pay for her schooling and associated costs, she never would have been able to afford to keep the house. Her parents had paid off the house long before their deaths, and their life insurance had paid the salary of a very conscientious caretaker. After school, she’d lived off what she earned from her job as an accountant.
Now that she was out of a job though…
Nope, she wasn’t going to think about her ex-job. She wouldn’t think about that kettle of fish for the moment. She’d deal with the fallout from that bullshit later. Right now, she was hungry, hurting, and bone-tired.
Glancing at her light grey sweats, Lucy spied a spot of blood peeking through the fabric covering her thigh. The very cute Dr. Cooper had cleaned the bite and bandaged her up driving her back to her parents’ house. His attentiveness was sweet but bordered on bizarre. It was just a nip from a little kid, but they’d all acted as if Charlie carried rabies or something.
Regardless, she’d already decided to call a real doctor in the morning, just to double check Drew’s work… and maybe start her on some antibiotics. The area around the bite ached and felt warm to the touch, the wound beginning to swell.
“Wouldn’t it just be perfect if he did have rabies?” she muttered to the still air.
Two bags of groceries sat on the counter, exactly where she’d left them before touring the house. She’d still felt pretty good at the grocery store and had vowed not to stray from her normal diet too much. She’d spent all her life fighting a losing battle against her curves, and she hadn’t wanted to slip up just because her life was in shambles.
Vegetables, salads and non-fat everything filled the bags. As she packed it all into the fridge, she regretted her decision to stick to her healthy eating plan. Right then, none of it appealed to her in the slightest. The very idea of choking down a spinach salad filled her with such hatefire she was almost surprised she hadn’t spontaneously combusted.
Spinach, the devil’s tool.
Luckily, the caretaker had stocked the freezer with tastier, more fattening fare—mostly in the form of frozen dinners—but she spied a tub of her favorite chocolate-peanut butter ice cream tucked in the back. Pulling out a lasagna, she dropped it on the counter with a thunk and set the oven to preheat.
Sighing, she leaned back against the counter to wait. Her gaze slid across everything that reminded her of her mom, finally landing on the archway that led into the kitchen. In a daze, she drifted over to it and kneeled down, her fingers lightly grazing a series of marks etched into the doorframe. Her mother’s writing noted an age next to each carved line, transporting Lucy back in time.
She’d always groaned when her mom wanted to commemorate how much she’d grown, but deep down she’d loved her mother’s excitement. Tears burned her eyes and no amount of sniffing would hold them back. She rested her head against the marks and fought for breath as tears pushed at her. They filled her eyes and spilled down her cheeks, sobs bursting past her lips while she trembled until she had nothing left.
Pain shot up her leg as she stood, but she pushed past the ache and shuffled down the hallway, searching for more memories. She first came to an oblong dent and ghosted her fingers across the indentation. Boy, her parents had been mad when they’d seen the evidence of Lucy’s practicing her softball swing inside the house. Though later that year, they’d cheered the loudest from the stands when her team had clenched the finals.
She was torturing herself by seeking out these reminders of her parents, but she couldn’t stop. She eyed the stairs, knowing the rooms up there would only bring her more suffering. Hell, even the sound of the tenth stair creaking, as it always did, would probably send her into echoing sobs.
There was a sweet nostalgia drifting through her too—mixing with the dark turmoil. She’d left the house shortly after her parents’ memorial never to return, leaving these memories fresh and raw. Though she sensed that the longer she remained in the house, those memories would ease to bittersweet. Perhaps one day they may become simply sweet…
For now, she’d sleep on the couch downstairs. At least for the first night. Besides, she wasn’t sure she could make it up the stairs with her leg.
A heavy knock echoed through the house, the front door jarring in its frame, and she nearly jumped out of her skin. She jolted, and a tiny bolt of pain attacked her with the movement. The silence had settled on her like a heavy blanket, so she assumed any sound would have startled her, but this had been no little knock. Taking small, slow steps, she padded to the entryway. Which apparently wasn’t fast enough for her mysterious visitor since he decided to bang on the door again, the old wood creaking beneath his strength.
“Cool your jets, asshole,” Lucy mumbled as she peeked through the peephole.
Oh, damn.
The man on her front porch stood almost as tall as the door itself. She actually had to stoop a bit to see his face. Not that she minded her initial view—muscled chest and tight black t-shirt that accentuated all that muscle-y goodness. But that face…
He looked vaguel
y familiar, but she couldn’t quite place him. Regardless, her breath caught in her chest at his chiseled jaw, covered with two days’ worth of stubble. Just enough to make a girl swoon. She caught a glimpse of his eyes and she nearly did swoon then. Her parents had taken her on a cruise to Bermuda once and this man’s eyes matched the color of the Caribbean Sea perfectly. A lock of black hair swooped down across his brow in a perfect imitation of young Johnny Depp, though he clearly wasn’t trying to be someone he wasn’t. When he lifted his fist to pound on the door again—his bicep bulging nicely—Lucy’s senses returned.
Wrenching the door open, she glared up at him. “Would you mind not breaking my door down?”
The devastatingly hot dude on her doorstep glared right back at her. She had no idea what kind of beef he might have with her, but she wasn’t about to be glared at without giving as good as she got. Instead of his narrow-eyed stare remaining on hers, his attention drifted down her body. His focus paused on her cleavage before moving on to her sweats-covered hips, and all the way down to her pretty pink toenails. The return trip was even slower and something about the way he stared made her think of a wild predator—hungry and fierce.
Lucy cleared her throat and arched an eyebrow. “Well?”
He jerked back a little, almost as if she’d just insulted him. Then a veil dropped across his stormy eyes. “I’m Mason Blackwood.”
Lucy waited for him to explain why he’d almost knocked her door off its hinges, but he didn’t say anything else. He simply looked down at her expectantly, as if she was supposed to know who the hell he was and why she should care. The name sounded familiar…
“Okay… What can I do for you?”
“What happened to your leg?” His gaze flicked to the bloody spot that had grown since she’d last looked.