Wolf's Lady (After the Crash Book 6.5)

by Maddy Barone

  Petey broke into her thoughts by poking her in the side. “Look!” he said, pointing to a rainbow of yarn hanging on hooks on the far wall. “We gots lots of yarn. Whatcha gonna make?”

  As Rose moved toward the yarn she heard an unfamiliar voice murmur, “That’s her, isn’t it? The one they call the Princess of the Wolves? Nice ass.”

  A low growl seeped from Stone’s throat. Eight years with a Pack of wolves gave her the training needed to prevent bloodshed. She wheeled and grabbed his arm just as he lunged at the stranger. Her weight was negligible compared to a wolf’s strength, but it stopped Stone dead. The fingers that were mere inches from the stranger’s throat curled into fists. The stranger stood frozen, eyes horrified circles in his suddenly white face.

  “Just ignore it,” she hissed. “Help me pick out yarn for new socks.”

  Two years ago Stone would have joined in yarn shopping with boyish enthusiasm. Now he cast one last icy glare at the stranger before folding his arms and standing like a guard dog at her side while she surveyed the wall of yarn. She tried to distract him by asking his opinion of the red compared to the blue yarn. He grunted at her choices, continuing to keep most of his attention on the stranger. From the peek Rose snuck at Paul and his companion, she could see the stranger’s face hadn’t regained its color. Moron. What kind of idiot whispered things about her when she was surrounded by her Pack escort? Did he not know they could hear a pin drop in the next room? And did he not realize that his comment on her anatomy bothered her less than his comment about her being the Princess of the Pack?

  “I love how they wet themselves whenever we scare them,” Stone sneered.

  Irritation made her toss a skein of vivid blue yarn away.

  “That one would match Sky’s eyes,” Paint remarked. “Are you going to make him a pair of socks for Christmas again?”

  “No.” She had knit her supposed mate socks for Christmas for the past several years, but no more. She had waited for him for eight years, but she wasn’t waiting any longer. Jasper’s eyes were mossy green. She scanned the wall of yarn for something in that color.

  Nathan Martin, Hannah’s husband and the owner of the store, approached with a respectful smile. “Good morning, Miss Turner. Do you have the shopping list for the den?”

  She nodded at Paint, who handed it over. It took Nathan and his elder son Jack about twenty minutes to collect the items on the list, and she spent the time planning a sweater and a pair of socks to knit for the man she was sure she would marry. She made her yarn selections and brought them to the front counter, still smiling.

  The men of her escort had the extra strength that the wolves within gave them. Standing Bear hefted two one hundred pound sacks of sugar to his shoulders with no sign of stress and three of the other men were similarly loaded. Only Stone and Paint were unburdened, alert for any trouble. Rose occupied the safe place in the middle of the group as they walked to the Plane Women’s House. Jasper didn’t know it yet, Rose smirked to herself, but he was about to become prey for a woman who learned to hunt from wolves.

  Chapter Two

  Des Wolfe, the Alpha of the small Plane Women’s House Pack, met Rose and her escort at the door of the Eatery with his face even more grim than usual. His dark eyes fixed on Paint. “That Packard boy is here. He says he’s eating lunch with Rose.”

  His tone clearly indicated his willingness to pitch Jasper out a window. When Rose first saw the Plane Women’s House eight years ago, it was a rundown apartment building with very few windows intact. Now, eight years later, it was restored to something close to its former Art Deco glory with windows gleaming in the red brick. Rose doubted Connie, Des’ mate, would appreciate a broken window.

  Paint adjusted his eye patch with a shrug. “Taye says it’s okay.”

  Des made a noise common to the wolves when communicating wordless disgust, and stepped aside for them to enter.

  “Yeah,” Paint grumbled in agreement. “It okay if we keep these supplies here until we head back to the Den later this afternoon?”

  When Des nodded, Paint sent a couple of the men around to the back to put the things they’d bought in storage until they left for the den. Then he and the rest of the escort walked Rose into the foyer. Jasminka Keric O’Connor, acting today as hostess for the Eatery, stepped forward to welcome them, but Des waved her back.

  Even though this was a safe place guarded by two dozen men of Des’ Pack, her escort clustered around Rose as she entered the lobby. There were two men sitting in the seats Connie had arranged for those who were waiting for a table to open. She didn’t recognize them, so they must be travelers passing through the area. They stared at her as she and her personal army moved past them into the dining room. She heard one of them say something about a princess. She refrained from snarling at them.

  Jasper saw her —with six scowling men around her she was hard to miss— and rose from the small table at one of the side windows. A sunbeam fell on his hair, turning the tips from sand to gold. Seeing him waiting for her gave Rose a thrill. She’d gone only a few steps toward him when she was cut off by a wide bony chest in a crisp white shirt. Raven. Sky’s sixteen-year-old brother. Dang it. She tilted her head to look up at him.

  “Hello, Raven.”

  She kept moving forward, and he allowed it, but walked backward in front of her, frowning into her face. His eyes were nearly the same blue as Sky’s under the dark, gracefully curving brows that were a family trait. The adorable fugitive dimple beside his mouth wasn’t in evidence right now, but with his full, soft mouth and high cheekbones he looked almost exactly as Sky had the last time she saw him. “You’re going to sit and eat with a man? Do you think Sky would like that, Sister?”

  “It’s none of his business, Raven. I repudiated him.”

  Raven drew in a breath and let out a low, pained howl before turning and rushing back toward the kitchen. An emotion she didn’t want to identify poked at Rose’s throat. She swallowed and put her shoulders back. Raven would just have to deal with it. She refused to watch him disappear into the kitchen. Instead she smiled at Jasper.

  With a show of gallantry, he held the back of a chair to seat her at the table. She had eaten here hundreds of times, but most often she’d been in the back room, where the residents ate their meals. Where, she added to herself, the Pack knew she would be safely out of sight of outsiders. As she settled herself in the chair she glanced around to see where her escort had gone. They hadn’t gone far, only to line up against the wall on either side of Jasper’s table. Their crossed arms and scowling faces expressed their disapproval in loud silence. Rose inwardly sighed, Oh, joy.

  Jasper noticed them too. After he sat back down he smiled at her, an endearing, lopsided grin that made her automatically smile back. “Being watched by wolf men is enough to put a man off his feed,” he whispered.

  He probably didn’t know they could hear him no matter how low his voice was. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be.” He lifted the hand printed menu, a single sheet of homemade paper, still smiling at her. “They only want to be sure you’re safe. Let’s see. Do you want a grilled ham and cheese sandwich or a hamburger? There’s tomato soup with the grilled cheese or fried potatoes with the burger.”

  The menu didn’t have many options. Being the manager of the only restaurant for miles, Connie said people should be happy with what they got. And generally, they were. Not only was the food excellent, but it was served by women. In a world where men outnumbered women two hundred to one, having a woman take the order and bring the food was a thrill for the customers. Of course, those women were watched over by men who turned into wolves, so the diners had to settle for just talking to the waitresses. Over the years a few customers had misunderstood what sort of service the waitresses were providing, but that kind of mistake only happened once in a while. Whenever a customer tried to be too friendly with one of the women, Des would point out the old bloodstains on the wood floor and explain how they got there. R
ose was sure he was disappointed when the customer took the hint and behaved himself.

  “Oh, I think a hamburger sounds good,” she said.

  Marissa Paulson Wolfe, married to one of Des’ pack, came to take their order. She kept her face professionally impersonal, but she tilted her head at Rose, and one eyebrow flew up. The comical expression disappeared after only a moment, but Rose’s blush lasted longer.

  “You know everyone here, don’t you?” Jasper commented, after Marissa left. “Even the busboy.”

  “Yes.” It was true. Every woman in the House was a survivor of the plane crash, and Taye’s Pack and Des’ Pack were like the right and left arms of the same body. She spent a lot of time here at the Plane Women’s House. These women were the only people who really knew what life had been like fifty years ago.

  “And everyone knows you. Or at least about you. The Pack Princess.” Something must have shown on her face, because he quickly said, “What did I say?”

  “Nothing. I just don’t like that name. I don’t know how it got started.” She fastened her attention on her napkin, lining up the folded edges just so. “I suppose, since for a long time I was the only young female in the Pack or the Clan, people started calling me that.”

  “Uh-huh,” he said, nodding earnestly. “And because you’re followed by a bunch of them every time you step foot out of their compound too. And the way they bristle if anyone looks at you too long. That’s where the nickname came from.”

  Her cheeks were probably the color of the tomato soup Marissa carried past to another table. “Yeah, that probably doesn’t help. Now complete strangers call me that, and they don’t know a thing about me. Maybe it was meant as a joke, but it makes me sound like a spoiled brat.”

  “Are you?” he asked.

  She blinked at the bold question, half-offended until she saw his teasing smile. “Well, I’ll admit to be spoiled. Hard not to be, with a hundred men trying hard to give me whatever I want, but I absolutely deny the brat part.”

  Their food came, deftly and gracefully served by Marissa, who told them cheerily to have a nice lunch and let her know if they needed anything else. Rose noticed how the other diners watched Marissa move. The other woman had the plump, voluptuous figure men in this time preferred. Back in her old life, Rose might have been thought a bit overweight, but here she was considered too thin.

  “I don’t know why,” she remarked, drenching a thick cut French fry in ketchup, “but everything tastes better here. Even a simple hamburger is extra good.”

  “Dad’s a pretty good cook,” Jasper told her, “but no one has better food than the Eatery. I hear the Saturday Suppers are to die for.”

  Renee, the Eatery’s cook, had once been the executive chef in one of Denver’s finest restaurants, so even the simplest food was superb. The week day suppers were more formal than the bare table lunches, but on Saturdays Renee served unique, elegant meals that drew people from all over. The tables boasted fine tablecloths, with floral arrangements, and silverware that gleamed in the candle light. To dine at the Plane Women’s Eatery on a Saturday night was the highlight of the year for many. Renee trained several of the crash survivors to be sous chefs, pastry chefs, prep cooks, and goodness knew what else, and several restaurants in Omaha and Denver had tried to lure her away. Renee would never leave Kearney without her mate, Hawk in Flight, and he would never leave the Pack, so the Eatery retained its fine chef.

  “I wonder.” Jasper cleared his throat, a flush staining his suntanned cheeks. “I wonder if you might like to join me for supper this Saturday?”

  A low growl came from one of the men along the wall. Rose ignored it. “Yes, I would.”

  Stone’s cold voice rose just loud enough for them to hear him. “You won’t be able to get a reservation for this Saturday. Make a reservation now and maybe you can get in around Christmas.”

  “I’m sure Kathy will squeeze us in,” Rose said as pleasantly as possible through clenched teeth.

  They ate in silence for a few minutes. When Jasper finished eating, he wiped his fingers with his napkin, then looked at her with a shadow of uncertainty on his face. “It might not be any of my business,” he said, seeming to choose his words with care. “But I can’t help but wonder why you’re here with me.” His voice went to the merest whisper of sound. “And why they—” He tipped his head at the men against the wall. “—are allowing it.”

  She hesitated, raising the last slice of fried potato to her mouth to give herself another moment to find words. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  She really did like that lop-sided smile of his. It was wryly self-deprecating, and put a shallow crease in his lean cheek that was very attractive. “I mean everybody knows you are spoken for by one of the wolves. A man would have to be suicidal to court a woman who belongs to a wolf, and I’m not real anxious to die yet.”

  Rose chose her own words with equal care. “It’s true that Sky claimed me for his mate many years ago, but he left to go to Omaha.” She didn’t mention how she had rebelled against him at the time, or her later vague regrets that Sky hadn’t returned to the Den so they could get to know one another better. If he had returned five or six years ago they might be mated. They would have children. “I waited eight years for him, but he hasn’t come back, so I’ve decided to move on.”

  “Move on,” he echoed. “Like, look for a different husband?”

  She hoped he couldn’t hear the almost sub-vocal growls from the men at the wall. She made herself look directly at him. “Yes.”

  Color rose in his face, but he smiled that lopsided smile again. “And you’re looking at me?”

  Good grief, now she was blushing too. Who knew this courting business would be so awkward? “Well.” She coughed to clear her throat. “I thought it might be nice to get to know you better.”

  He ducked his head for a minute, then came up beaming. “I’m glad. Ready to go to the train station?”

  Relief made her smile. “Sure. Let’s stop up front and make a reservation for Saturday.”

  At the hostess booth, Jas looked a little disapproving at Rose’s request. “Dees Saturday? Veet heem?” she asked, her Bosnian accent more pronounced than usual. “I don’t teenk Taye or Des veel like dat.”

  Paint heaved a heavy sigh. “It’s okay, Mrs. O’Connor.”

  Jas looked Jasper over. “Vell, okay, den. I mark you down for Saturday at seex o’clock.”

  “Thanks, Jas. See you Saturday.”

  As they left the restaurant the open stares of the other customers irritated her. Couldn’t she have any privacy? Now everyone would know she was seeing Jasper. She quickly smoothed her irritation away. Stone and the others were already on edge. If they scented her annoyance, they might do something violent to a hapless diner. She hurried to distract them. The sight of her fingertips resting on Jasper’s elbow ought to do the trick. It did, and Rose congratulated herself on knowing how to handle the men in her life. She gave in to their pointed stares and dropped her hand as soon as they were on the street walking toward the train station.

  “Tell me about what stock you’re working with,” she encouraged Jasper. “I think you mentioned some fillies?”

  Enthusiasm fired his eyes. “Lina and Lola. Twins sisters out of Beauty Queen by Black Devil. Those two were meant to be racehorses. Fast as the wind in January, and as strong.”

  At the end of the forty-five minute stroll to the train station, Rose knew every little thing about the two fillies Jasper was training, and her eyes threatened to glaze. He told her at length how many hands tall each parent was, the width of their withers and the length of their necks. She could recite their lineage back five generations, and knew exactly how they were related to her own mare. Carla would have loved this conversation. Rose understood barely half of it, and was wondering if Jasper was really the right man for her. Did she want to spend the rest of her life talking about horses?

  Some of her escort, walking in protective formation around her,
seemed to know her thoughts. She caught the barest hint of a smirk on Stone’s stern face and shot him a quick glare. Stone let a yawn swallow the smirk.

  “Look,” Jasper said in a pleased voice. “The three o’clock train is exactly on time. There it is, right down the track.”

  The platform outside the station was already crowded with spectators. There were a few benches lined up against the front of the station, and a few more on the edge of the platform, for passengers and those meeting them to sit while they waited. All were occupied until Stone stalked to the nearest one and growled, “Out!” The two men sitting there hurried to obey. Stone jerked a thumb at Rose. She sighed and sat, glancing around at the people lounging about.

  “Oh, hey!” She waved at a couple across the platform. “It’s Eddie and Lisa Madison, and they have little Emily with them.”

  The Madisons, a handsome blond couple in their thirties, walked over to Rose’s bench. Lisa held their ten-week-old daughter in a fabric sling over her chest, and Eddie herded two boys in front of him. The brown haired boy was Eddie’s seven-year old brother, Marty, who was born just after the last Woman Killer Plague epidemic in Kearney. The blond boy was Eddie’s six-year-old son, Ray. Uncle and nephew were only thirteen months apart in age.

  “Hi, Rose!” Ray said happily.

  Rose smiled back. “Hi, Ray-Ray. How are you today? Hi, Marty. What are you doing here?”

  “We came to help Dad load up the fabric Mom ordered,” said Ray excitedly.

  The other boy chimed in. “It’ll be too heavy for Lisa to carry. We brought the wagon. I get to help pull it.” Marty puffed out his narrow chest to show how strong he was. “She can’t pull it ‘cause she’s got that baby to carry.”

  Lisa said firmly, “That baby is your niece, Emily.”

  Marty looked as disgusted as a little boy could about a girl baby. “All she does is cry, sleep and shi—” He cut himself off with a guilty look at his much older brother. “Poop, I mean.”