Sara took another fortifying breath. Alpha Channing Bardou was a wolf of so many talents and so many years, his age alone cowed Sara, never mind his accomplishments and status. He was a wolf to be reckoned with, yet also a reasonable and fair one who had evolved with the times to lead his pack into being the premier one in the entire western half of the country. Sara always felt honored to be a member.
She hated that she was about to go into an important meeting late. She also hated that, frankly, she was more apprehensive about seeing Rafe than receiving the disapproval of her alpha. Butterflies zipped around her stomach. She shook her head to dispel the image, huffing out the barest of giggles at her wolf's confusion about insects flying around inside them.
At least she and Rafe'd had news to share with the Alpha when they reported in yesterday. They hadn't found the rogues. In fact, after they carefully explored the area, they realized they'd scented only a few of them, and those two wolves had been loping away from them. Their scent headed toward the farthest southwestern reaches of the pack territory—well past Sleeping Ute Mountain—where the Pack Guardians knew there was no need to follow. Past that was a virtual no-man's land, empty of wolves and most people. The Alpha had taken their information with his usual simple nod of acknowledgement. Nothing about his expression ever clued Sara in to his thoughts on the rogues, or anything else, for that matter. As far as she was concerned, that was just fine. She had enough to worry about herself without wondering what knowledge the Alpha stored in his head.
Steeling herself, Sara pushed open the imposing carved doors that led to the conference room and slipped inside. The Alpha's strong voice carried easily throughout the entire room, which was saying something. The Black Mesa Pack's spacious conference room had an ornate, impressive ceiling as high as the outer hallway's. All the members of the entire pack, nearly forty of them, lounged around the room, sprawled on the floor, draped over couches, leaning against walls, curled up beside one another. Pack standards allowed wolf behavior to hold more sway on the private, secluded pack premises than anywhere else. Nothing about the tableau suggested any sort of disrespect for the tall man who held their rapt attention.
The Alpha never paused his voice, but his eyes flicked to Sara at the doorway. His sharp gaze instantly caused her to lower her own eyes. Her wolf rolled onto her back in an utterly submissive pose, ready for total domination by her mildly displeased alpha.
Sara's thoughts halted, although she kept slinking along the back wall to find a place to semi-hide while listening. Mildly displeased? Channing Bardou's look sent her a succinct message this behavior was not appropriate. But strict censure was not evident from his pose. He should be angrier she was late, that she appeared to not care enough for his pack summons to be there on time, for—
An arm jostled against her and stopped her sidling. Sara murmured the faintest apology under her breath. Then every sense in her body recognized the wolf she'd run into. She looked up and felt an almost dizzy wave envelop her. Rafe stood right beside her, leaning against the wall, arms easily crossed over his broad chest while closely following his father's words. But she could tell from the slight tug up on his mouth as well as one eyebrow he was aware she'd just smacked into him. And that she was nervous.
Her wolf whined. In happy excitement.
Sara stood still. Her arm hairs prickled, her skin shivered with pleasant goosebumps, and her breathing sped up. An abrupt memory of Rafe leaning over her, on top of her, his deep blue eyes locked with hers as they moved together, landed full force in her head. Every detail of his scent, the feel of his naked skin against hers, the strength of his forearms locking against her shoulders as he slowly, almost lazily, rocked with her, suffused all her senses for a few seconds. His seemingly languorous movements masked a deliberate precision that ensured she'd started to come just like that, which she never did, never only from penetration, never only from the movement of a man inside her.
Sara wrenched her thoughts back into the room. Focus, she snarled to herself. Being a top-notch guardian meant she had to focus. Dammit. She forced herself to listen to her alpha as he spoke.
“Therefore,” the Alpha said, “I've made a decision about the rogues that will demand all our attention, dedication, and trust.”
The room became silent. Very, very silent. Rafe sensed every wolf present tilting almost imperceptibly toward their alpha, ears strained for every word. Rafe himself felt tensely wired, like a coiled spring waiting for release. Of course, it wasn't only because he had a suspicion he wasn't going to like what his father was about to say. The presence of one wolf—the only one in the room who could affect him this way—was playing about the edges of his driving desire to serve his pack the best he could.
Taking in a long, silent breath through his nose, he let Sara's scent into every bit of himself he could. His wolf sat up, doubly attentive now. Between alpha and female wolf, the world had narrowed into sharp focus.
Focus on the Alpha, Rafe thought. Just focus.
Channing Bardou, the finest wolf Rafe had ever met, despite of the man being his father, sat with easy confidence on the edge of the massive conference table, which was pushed up against the south wall. The Pack never actually sat at the conference table unless they were meeting with other pack representatives. It tended to be a space for placing drinks, books, folders, cut flowers from the sprawling wild grounds. Right now, its solid redwood surface provided an area for the Black Mesa Alpha to sit and allow a deceptively mild gaze to drape over his pack.
“The rogues and I have come to an understanding,” the Alpha said. His words resonated throughout the room, almost gaining a life of their own in the utter stillness. “We have an agreement, and we will be working together.”
Keening howls torpedoed through the quiet as sudden bedlam unleashed itself. Rafe kept leaning against the wall, but his back tensed even as his chest swelled with quicker breaths. He knew the Alpha had had something like this in mind. His sire was never one to leap into the fray without a plan, and not one to draw sides so distinctly there could never be space for later compromise and mutual joining of forces to an extent. No, the rogues were never to be hunted down and tossed off Black Mesa territory like the slinking cowards they usually seemed to be. They were a part of the Alpha's plan all along, whether or not they knew it.
Rafe himself still wasn't exactly certain what the plan was. All he knew at the moment was the room was in some chaos, his alpha sat unperturbed watching it all, and the lithe gray wolf beside him had also started breathing faster and harder, her pheromones zinging straight toward him as she tried to suss out the temper of the room and where she fit into it.
He felt such an overwhelming urge of protective instinct sweep over him it brought his wolf immediately to the forefront. Claws scrabbled at his mind. He knew his wolf stared out of his eyes, utterly alert with a deadly precision.
“Sara,” he breathed. Though it was almost impossible to hear his voice over the din of arguments, protest, and shock ringing throughout the room, Sara instantly shifted her gaze to his. Inside, Rafe smiled. Good. She was just as aware of him as he was of her. The knowledge marginally calmed his wolf .
Her turquoise eyes riveted on him, she waited. Obedient to his simple asking of her attention.
That thought turned him on so strongly he had to pause in order to compose himself again. Sara, willing and compliant to his touch. Not in a subservient, beta wolf manner, but in a sensuous, strictly female way. A woman responding to a man.
Rafe held Sara's gaze for a long moment, still struggling to contain the wash of pure craving that licked through him and made his skin gently shiver. He kept his expression steady and didn't break the eye contact. The noise thrashing about the room died away. For this instant, all he was aware of, all he wanted to be aware of, was this one woman.
Sara held Rafe's gaze with all the strength she could summon. Not an easy feat considering her insides had started quivering with a sensation she knew well: lust.
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br /> This was so ridiculous. All because she had recalled what being with him had been like before. Her hormones heated up around him, she couldn't think, and the intoxicating way he smelled—it was enough to drive a wolf wild. Rafe smelled like the desert canyons, like crushed sage and the whisper of juniper needles, like the leather jacket neatly piled on the table beside him, like a big wolf whose very presence made Sara's legs twitch with impatience to wind themselves around him.
Sara blinked at the fierce sexuality of her thoughts. The intense moment broke slightly, although Rafe didn't release his gaze.
Ah, hell. What was she going to do with him? He was attracted to her, too. Wolves in arousal could broadcast it pretty clearly. Luckily for them, every wolf in the room seemed roused to anger or disbelief at the moment, which effectively masked the virtual make-out session happening in the back. Not that Rafe was even touching her. But the scent of his attraction rippled over her in small waves, dancing along the edges of her own desire.
Sara took a deep breath. Holding the eye contact still, she let a corner of her mouth quirk up, although she kept the serious focus in the intensity of her gaze.
“Crazy in here,” she said. Her voice barely pierced above the register of a murmur, but she knew it reached Rafe's ears just fine.
“Hmm,” he said. His expression seemed quiet, but the hunger beneath it still reached out to her.
“What do you think about what he just said?” she asked.
Rafe paused a moment before answering. His look became a bit more inscrutable. Sara could almost feel the mantle of alpha-to-be-ness drop over him. Rafe took no airs about himself, but he knew perfectly well he would one day be the alpha. That knowledge, he did take seriously.
“I think he's not being a given a chance to tell us exactly what he has in mind.” He gestured toward the clamoring wolves.
Almost as if he'd heard his son, Channing Bardou said one soft word that brought every wolf in the room to abrupt silence.
“Enough.”
Sara finally wrenched her gaze from Rafe's as a lifetime of training and an ancient, instinctual demand forced her to pay complete attention to her alpha. But her body still tingled slightly, very aware of the tall, rangy man beside her.
“You will all hear what will happen.” The Alpha's words, still deceptively mild, dropped crystal clear into an almost ringing silence. Not a wolf moved a fraction, not a sound made itself known. Channing nodded his appreciation of their obedience and went on.
“The rogue leader, Licas Rawlins—also called Luke—is outcast from his pack. He wants to create and lead his own pack. He and I have communicated enough that I am certain of his submission to the Black Mesa Pack's control here. He will start his own pack.”
A pause laden with intent followed those explosive words. Sara wondered if some of the others in the room had stopped breathing in order to make sure they took in each word without doubt. She sure had. Her wolf lay completely still, entirely focused on the Alpha, close to the front of Sara's mind. Woman and wolf both leaned slightly forward.
“Luke is a self-outcast wolf from Canada. His bloodline is impeccable, and he was groomed to be an alpha. Unfortunately, his pack's alpha is sick of mind: old and still clinging to ancient ways, cruel, vindictive, and harsh to upcoming alphas. He had hand-picked his successor from the others because of this particular son's ability to lead other wolves, to listen, and to follow the rules.”
Sara shifted just slightly on her feet, twitching a toe at a mild cramp. The slightly musky scent of wolves drifted throughout the large space, and she took comfort in the familiarity of the pack surrounding her as she listened to the Alpha's groundbreaking words. Mostly, she took comfort in Rafe's presence beside her, strong and solid and—sort of inclined toward her. Almost possessively.
She liked it.
“The old alpha followed rules to the letter, but made no allowances for modern times.” Channing's voice slipped through and around his wolves like water: gentle, yet implacable. “Because of that, their pack had fallen into a structure that disrespected the females, disempowered the young males, and even started to affect birth rates.”
Soft hisses jumped like electric sparks from wolf to wolf. Cubs were essential to pack survival. Sara faintly sensed hackles rising, including her own.
The Alpha's voice ebbed and flowed over them, soothing while informing, commanding while stating. His very slightly old-fashioned phrasing always comforted Sara. She loved that her pack was led by a wolf who knew quite a bit about the world. Enough to know when they needed some changes to keep in step with modern times.
“Luke finally left because he finally could no longer take the sickness of his pack's overall situation. But since he walked away from a pack, he is considered rogue no matter what. You all know that means no new pack can take him in without starting a war.” A corner of the Alpha's mouth curved his face into a wry yet deadly serious expression.
“Most modern packs wouldn't do that, of course—they wouldn't start a real war as the social consequences would be too harsh to contemplate—but the old one in Canada wouldn't hesitate to shed blood.”
Sara swallowed at that. Actual war? This alpha in Canada was some sort of monster, a throwback to the ancient times when wolves battled literally to the death. Modern packs would never do that.
Would they?
“After several long conversations with Luke”—Sara felt Rafe tense just slightly beside her. She wondered if he'd known how much his father had been in contact with the rogue wolf—“I decided he could come in to start a new peripheral pack of his own here in Colorado. There is a caveat, of course. Any females and young wolves who choose to join must do so absolutely, utterly willingly.”
The silence in the room went beyond deafening to cymbal-clashing, earth-shaking proportions of quiet. The air itself seemed to pulse in her ears. Sara and her wolf both strained to understand the full implications. Had the Alpha really just said the rogue would be starting his own pack as an offshoot of the Black Mesa Pack? And Black Mesa wolves could join if they wanted to?
She snapped a quick sidelong look at Rafe. His entire body seemed intent on the Alpha, although he still also leaned toward her, so imperceptibly nobody else would notice. But she did. Rafe was an alpha, through and through. His instinct to protect everyone in the pack would supersede all other concerns. Always.
Sara's wolf whined with just a bit of impatience. She liked Rafe's protectiveness. And her impatience seemed directed at—Sara?
Giving herself a sharp mental shake, Sara soothed her wolf with emotions and images of a pack pile of wolves, sprawled over and under one another, grooming, playing, and generally taking comfort in one another's presence and simple being.
Another whine. Sara swore her wolf then did a very human eye roll.
Interesting.
Rafe could barely feel the ground he stood upon, although every single sense he had remained on high alert. Alert for what, exactly, he wasn't sure. The room swirled with emotion, mostly agitation, trepidation, rumblings of anger, and the simple yet pure shock of the unexpected. Whatever they'd thought the meeting was about, apparently not a wolf in the room had imagined their alpha would announce something like this.
“I know some of you may have concerns about this.” His father's voice penetrated every corner of the room without even half trying. It was a trait all alphas shared. “There will be a learning curve, yes. A break-in period. It may be quite difficult at first for the new alpha of the new pack, as well as for any wolf who chooses to join that pack. I know he's made a poor impression on some of you.”
The Alpha's gaze landed squarely on Lily and her mate, Kieran. Rafe saw his sister twitch a little bit under her father's scrutiny. Her shoulders remained firmly thrown back, however. She was an excellent Pack Guardian, and all her training informed her attitude at the moment. He knew Lily had questioned the motives of the rogue when they'd had an unexpected meeting at the Strater Hotel in town several weeks back.
Luke had been arrogant, demanding, and even brutally assessing of the Black Mesa wolves in a way that would get anybody's back up. Lily had not been appreciative, nor had Kieran. Regardless, they would follow Channing Bardou's orders. Always.
“Remember,” the Alpha continued, “how hard it could be to function as a healthy wolf after so many years in an unhealthy pack.”
“If that's the case,” a voice rang out, “then he's hardly qualified to lead a healthy pack, now, is he?”
Rafe's eyes tightened for a moment. Caleb always did like to question authority. His youngest brother had a knack for finding trouble and then asking it out to play a game of Russian roulette.
The Alpha, however, merely smiled his enigmatic smile.
“I believe he will come around in due time. To be perfectly clear: I endorse this situation fully.”
Caleb lowered his head in respect. Rafe knew his brother, though. Somewhat mutinous thoughts would be going on behind that usually friendly expression. He'd have to have a little chat with Caleb later.
Alpha Wolf: Black Mesa Wolves #2 (Werewolf Shifter Paranormal Romance) Page 2