Running with Wolves (Shifter Country Wolves Book 1)

by Noir, Roxie

  Houston was starting to think that she didn’t exist. Part of him just wished that he could somehow know that she didn’t, so he could go ahead and settle down with Jack on their ranch instead of constantly wondering whether they’d find her.

  They walked back outside into the cool desert air, the neon everywhere making the street nearly as bright as day. Jack nodded at a casino with a replica Eiffel tower standing outside it, then looked at Houston.

  “That looks like a classy place,” he said. “Want to give it a shot?”

  “Why not,” said Houston.

  Inside, they sauntered over to the casino bar, got two Jack Daniels on the rocks, and turned to watch the floor.

  Cocktail waitresses walked around, but Houston and Jack hated to bother someone who was at work. As his eyes roved over the casino floor — maybe a redhead tonight? — Jack elbowed him in the side.

  A gaggle of girls, five strong, was walking across the casino floor, laughing and giggling to each other. One of them spied Houston and Jack, standing there, then said something to her friends. Moments later, all five were whispering and giggling to each other, tottering on their too-high heels, their hips wiggling back and forth in their tight dresses.

  Obviously, they were going somewhere. Dinner and a club, most likely.

  The girls changed course, coming toward the bar. They were all human, which didn’t surprise Houston at all. Human girls were always the curious ones, the ones who felt especially naughty going to bed with two wolf shifters at once. Shifter women didn’t need to get drunk in Las Vegas to find shifter men for their fantasies.

  The leader of the pack was a blond with brown eyes, heavily ringed with eyeliner, and she stepped up to the casino bar, casting a glance in their direction before pretending to look over the bottles of liquor. The bartender patiently placed five cocktail napkins on the glass bar surface, totally bored by the game already.

  “Get you a drink?” the bartender asked.

  “What kind of vodka do you have?” she said, her voice coming out breathy and high-pitched.

  As the bartender rattled off vodka brands, Houston exchanged a glance with Jack, then together, they sauntered toward the girls.

  “Could we buy you ladies a drink?” Houston asked.

  They tittered. Two looked at each other. One was already turning bright pink, and one was pretending to look at her phone and probably didn’t want to be seen talking to shifters.

  Her loss, Houston thought.

  “Sure,” said the leader brightly. Up close, her blond hair had brown roots, and she wasn’t quite as pretty as Houston had thought, but she was wearing a very tight, very short dress, and more than anything, had that look in her eyes. That I’ve always wanted to have sex with two men at once look.

  Houston was very familiar with the look.

  “Could we get five vodka tonics?” she asked the bartender.

  He poured the drinks, and then Houston paid the man, tipping well. He did wish that girls didn’t travel in packs like this. Being around other girls made it a little bit harder to get one alone with him and Jack, since girls seemingly didn’t want their friends knowing they had sex.

  Not that he and Jack got turned down often.

  Houston rejoined the group, raising his glass in a toast along with the rest of them.

  “To Vegas!” the head blond shouted, and Houston wondered how much she’d had to drink already.

  They all drank.

  “All right,” Jack said, addressing the girls. “Let me guess. You guys are here for a bachelorette party?”

  They all laughed.

  “No,” said the girl who’d been looking at her phone. She had her arms crossed in front of her.

  “It’s your birthday,” Jack guessed, looking right at her.

  “It’s mine!” said the head blond, playing with a strand of her hair.

  “You get everything you asked for?” Houston said. He took a sip of his whiskey and let his eyes travel over her body: the tight dress, the long legs, the high heels, and felt himself begin to warm up a little.

  Fact was, they weren’t picky. Both of them just liked women, as long as they were together for the act. As they’d gotten older, they’d liked women more and more, an unscratchable itch that never stopped.

  Not yet, anyway. Houston had a pretty good idea what might stop it.

  He just didn’t know if they’d ever find her.

  “Almost everything,” she said, blinking at them like she was trying to be coy.

  “You wanted a birthday spanking, didn’t you?” asked one of the other girls, wearing a strappy black dress.

  “Ashley!” the head blond squealed, though she didn’t blush.

  “Don’t lie,” the other girl said, glaring at her friend jealously. Houston looked her over, too.

  I’d take her, he thought. I don’t think she’s as interested as the blond, though.

  Behind the girls, someone else came up to the bar. It was another woman, wearing a high-necked, knee-length sparkly silver dress, and she stood casually between two stools, asking the bartender a question.

  Suddenly, Houston couldn’t hear a thing that the girls said to him. He looked straight past them, standing taller for a better view. He felt like he was in a vacuum, all the air and sound sucked out of the enormous, noisy casino floor, and all he could see or hear was the new girl at the bar.

  Houston panicked, just for a moment. He’d been with more women than he could keep track of, but he’d never had a reaction like this to one of them.

  What the hell is happening? he thought. Am I having a stroke or something? Do I smell anything weird?

  He took a deep breath. Nothing but whiskey and cigarette smoke, regular casino smells. He still couldn’t tear his eyes away from the new girl.

  She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, and he watched her perfect curves move beneath the silver dress, her honey-colored hair spill over one shoulder, and he felt lightheaded. The bartender smiled and showed her a tequila bottle, and she smiled back and nodded.

  Deep inside, he felt a tug at him, like something was trying to pull his spine out through his bellybutton, and the feeling left him breathless.

  I’ll kill the bartender if he’s flirting with her, Houston thought. His wolf bared its teeth, and he pushed it down quickly.

  “Hello?” the head blond was asking, starting to look annoyed. Then she looked over her shoulder at the newcomer, then back and Houston and Jack, simply looking confused.

  Houston ignored her, looking over at Jack. His mate’s green eyes had gone wide, an expression of total confusion and bafflement on his handsome face.

  Houston knew exactly how he felt.

  “Guys?” asked the blond, waving her hands in front of her.

  “Excuse me,” Houston said to the gaggle of girls, pushing through them. He heard one of them ask “What the hell?” behind him, but he couldn’t have cared less.

  The bartender was pouring her something from a nice tequila bottle, and he and the girl both looked up at Houston and Jack, the gaggle of girls squawking behind them.

  “Put it on my tab,” Houston told the bartender. Then he winked at her.

  She looked over, and Houston’s heart stopped for a moment. She had wide-set eyes, sharp cheekbones, light brown eyes, winged eyeliner, bright red lips.

  Going out for the night, Houston thought.

  She considered the two men for a moment, her pink tongue running over the very inside of her lip as she did.

  “No, it’s okay,” she said, still standing there. She took a wallet out of her purse. “I’m just grabbing a quick drink before I meet some people. I can’t stay.”

  “I insist,” Houston said.

  “No,” she said, frowning at them, a second of hostility flashing in her eyes. Jack put a hand on Houston’s back, and Houston gritted his teeth, forcing his wolf down. Without breaking her eye contact, she handed the bartender her card.

  The bartender ran her card and
she signed for the drink, thanking him. The bartender pretended to file the receipt, but Houston could tell that he was paying attention to the drama instead.

  “Can we get your next drink?” Jack asked.

  “I’m only getting the one,” she answered, placing the strap of her purse back on her shoulder.

  Then she put her drink to her lips and considered the two of them. As she did, the gaggle of girls from before walked past, laughing and giggling again, a little drunker from the free booze.

  Houston felt completely out of his element, and next to him, he could tell that his mate was floundering, too. This just wasn’t how it went with women for them: he insisted on paying for a drink, and they smiled and blushed and said thanks. Sure, they didn’t end up having sex with every single one, but a turning down a free drink? That was new to him.

  “Who’re you meeting that you need a drink beforehand?” Jack asked.

  “Just friends,” she said quickly. She didn’t seem thrilled to be talking to them, but she didn’t move away, either.

  “Must be some friends if you need a drink beforehand,” offered Houston. “They always inviting you to Tupperware parties or something?”

  “My mom used to have a friend who wanted to sell her makeup every time they got lunch,” Jack offered.

  The girl just shook her head, sipping her drink.

  “Bad breath?” asked Houston. “Pick their toenails at the table?”

  “Steal the silverware at every restaurant, and you’re always afraid they’ll get caught?” asked Jack.

  The girl cracked a smile, and Houston’s pulse quickened.

  “This friend wants to be on Broadway and insists on doing vocal exercises at the table,” Houston guessed.

  She finally laughed, and Houston felt warmth pool in his middle, an inexplicable joy coming over him.

  “No,” she said, her shoulders relaxing a little as she laughed. “Nothing that bad. I got talked into coming to Vegas for a divorce party, and it’s all a little... weird.”

  Jack whistled low and leaned against a bar stool, his long legs out in front of him.

  “I guess they’ve got parties for everything these days,” he said.

  “Some divorces are worth celebrating,” the girl said, looking into her glass. Then she took a long drink, the tequila half-gone.

  “Is it like a bachelorette party, then?” asked Houston.

  He and Jack were familiar with bachelorette parties. Never the bachelorette herself, but there was invariably a hot, single bridesmaid along for the weekend.

  “Right, but worse,” the girl said. “Tonight we’re going to an overpriced restaurant and then a nightclub. We went to see a male strip show last night, and I think it was one of the strangest things I’ve ever done.”

  She sipped the tequila again, the clear liquid almost gone. Houston felt the germ of panic start in his gut.

  “Too much baby oil?” Jack asked.

  She nodded, half-rolling her light brown eyes.

  “Here’s the thing,” she said, narrowing her eyes and looking from one to the other. “All the guys doing the strip show come off as pretty gay, you know? Which is fine, but as a straight lady, I don’t really get anything out of that.”

  She’d started to turn pink, a shade that Houston found deeply appealing.

  “And they’re just so... flex-y, and muscle-y, and hairless, and I just got the feeling that they’d be way more into each other than into me.”

  “What if you got to watch?” Jack asked.

  Houston straightened in alarm, his heart clenching.

  Damn it, don’t ask her that, Houston thought, even though it was a pretty standard for them to ask. Come on, Jack. She’s a lady.

  The girl raised her eyebrows, looked into her glass, finished her drink, and looked back at the two of them.

  “That would be a pretty different show,” she finally said, the pink on her cheeks deepening. “I bet you could make good money from it, though.”

  “I’ll start talking to investors,” Houston said drily.

  The girl stepped forward and set her empty glass on the bar.

  “You sure we can’t buy you one more?” Jack asked.

  She shook her head, her hair cascading all over her shoulders.

  “I gotta get going,” she said. “I bet my friends are already annoyed that I’m running late. I didn’t exactly tell them I needed a drink before dinner.”

  “Can we at least get your number?” Jack said.

  She thought about it.

  “You’re not going to call,” she finally said. There was no malice, and she didn’t sound upset. She just sounded like she was stating a fact. “We’re both going to go home tomorrow, and I have a feeling you’re not looking for a pen pal.”

  I’d take it, though, thought Houston.

  “Okay,” Houston said. “How about your name and the club where you’re going? At least give us a fighting chance of seeing you again.”

  “I’m Kirsten,” she said. “And the club is called Heist,” she said, rolling her eyes again. “I didn’t pick it, or the name.”

  “Is it bank-themed?” Jack asked, his green eyes lighting up.

  “Something like that,” Kirsten muttered, shaking her head. “I wanted to go to karaoke night at a bar, but I got outvoted.”

  “Kirsten, at Heist,” said Houston, holding up the remnants of his whiskey. “Houston and Jack. If you’re not there, we’ll have to come find you.”

  She laughed, turning that light shade of pink again.

  “I don’t think I can get out of it,” she said, then took a step away. “See you later, maybe?”

  “Definitely,” said Houston.

  She wiggled her fingers at them in a slightly confused wave, then turned and walked away. When she finally turned a corner, Houston had to fight the urge to run after her, get on his knees, and beg her to just give him something.

  He didn’t think that would work with her, though. Kirsten seemed to do things on her own terms, and he was damned if that wasn’t hot.

  Jack turned and looked at Houston, and for a long moment, they just held their gaze together, across one empty bar stool.

  Then Jack finally said something.

  “Holy shit,” he whispered.

  Get it now!

  Like bears? Don’t leave Shifter Country just yet...

  Get them all for free with Kindle Unlimited!

  Still not enough?

  Don’t worry — RoxieNoir.com has got you covered!

  About Roxie

  I love writing sexy, take-charge alphas with a softer side. In fact, I love it so much that I always have two in my stories! Two's always better than one, isn't it?

  In real life, I live in California with one husband (who might be a bear shifter) and two cats (who would be much too lazy to shift, even if they could).

  I’m on the internet at RoxieNoir.com. You can also follow @RoxieNoir on Twitter, like my Facebook page, or just email me: Roxie.Noir@gmail.com.