Another Chance

by Taryn Kincaid

  A ripple of silver-white energy shimmered in the air and a megawatt bolt of power surged into her. A hand appeared on her shoulder where the paw had been. She couldn’t deny her rescuer’s identity. Darkness began to claim her.

  “Damn it, stay with me, Jules. Don’t you fuckin’ leave me now.”

  Chance.

  As if her anguished thoughts had conjured him. Was she so far gone she’d started to hallucinate? No. The deep, gravelly growl swamped her, washed over her like a wave tossing a small boat, dragging the vessel along in its turbulent wake, the same way he’d pulled her from the tangled ravine.

  Every molecule of her skin tingled, more alive than she’d been in ten years. Even through her pain, her brain lit up with erotic awareness of the large male kneeling beside her. His unique, compelling scent, nearly hidden beneath the acrid sting of alcohol and morning-after regrets, surrounded her. Made her feel safe. Woodsy, smoky, and herbal, the subtle tang of smoldering white-sage embers. A healthy surge of the musk of male arousal broadsided her.

  Mate.

  The wolf within stopped pacing anxiously inside its cage and sat, waiting, ears perked up and tail wagging with happy expectation, like a pup hoping for a treat.

  Safe!

  Home!

  Mate!

  Chance! Chance! Chance!

  Her wolf howled in pleasure and triumph, skipping, leaping, and bouncing. Julie pictured a cartoon Snoopy doing a happy dance. A glow suffused her body, alive with endorphins, as if she had run twenty miles or engaged in the calorie equivalent of strenuous, marathon, uber-satisfying sex. Do. Not. Think. Of. Sex. Suddenly, bodies writhing together in sexual abandon was all she could think of.

  His large hand on her belly sent desire pooling between her legs, as it had the first time. She rested her hand on his, stroking her fingers across his sun-warmed skin. She could not stop touching him.

  Her pain receded, wherever he laid hands on her.

  Then it fully registered, in the part of her brain still functioning on an intellectual level: Chance Fucking Northridge. The first and only male she’d connected with, soul-to-soul, human and wolf. The mate to whom she’d given her body. Her heart. Who’d stomped all over both. Back in South Dakota after abandoning her for more than ten years, even knowing full well what sick plans the evil Magnum had in store for her.

  “Get away from me, you bastard.” She snarled. Her wolf whimpered at the woman’s harsh words, pawing at her flesh.

  Julie opened her eyes and looked at him, really looked at him, for the first time in…forever. If she hadn’t already been flat on her back, the explosion of overpowering lust blasting into her would have blown her ten feet away.

  Huge. Masculine. A male to lose herself in. Over and over again. Fierce, conflicting emotions tangled her up in knots.

  His face was older than she remembered, and changed, but still as familiar to her as her own. Lines of worry etched his hard mouth, creased his brow. Yet, he appeared every bit as virile and devastating as he’d always been. Ruggedly handsome beyond reckoning, he loomed over her. His heavy bones carved sharp, high cheekbones above a solid jaw, the squareness relieved only by a small dent in his chin.

  Her eyes burned and watered at the sight of him. He sapped her of the will to do anything except sweep her hair aside and offer him the most tender, vulnerable spot on her neck, or roll onto her belly and arc her ass toward him in erotic invitation.

  Damn him. No. She gathered the last ounce of her resources to snarl at him instead, grateful her injuries prevented her from assuming the position to blatantly demonstrate her wild desire.

  Her wolf butted at her, desperate for release, crying to be let out to curl around him.

  His broad, powerful shoulders blotted out the sun. She glared up at him, nearly wincing from the impact his off-the-charts-gorgeous mug had on her. Still had on her. Likely, always would have on her.

  Light eyes, the color of fair summer skies, held hers and she could not look away. Not normally a wolf’s eyes, but she knew the deep, compelling blue stayed with him even after he shifted, although occasionally, when he scented danger or something angered him beyond reason, they grew colder, grayer, harbingers of an impending storm. His dark-brown hair, each strand a different shade from nearly black to nearly blond like the bark of a tree, fell over his brow, curling at his temples and ears and at his nape.

  Holy Moon Goddess. His neck. The urge to lick the thick curving column nearly flattened her. She bared her teeth, wanting to sink them into his flesh, to suck the salt of his skin and taste the first kiss of his rich, delicious blood on her tongue. His hard mouth tensed, as if he guessed her thoughts. The tips of his white canines flashed out, catching a corner of the fleshy part of his lower lip. The space between his eyebrows knotted in concentration.

  Goddess Luna, have mercy. She wanted to feel the brush of those lips on hers then the intoxication of his mouth, fierce and savage, branding and claiming as he explored her, as he slipped his tongue inside to taste and savor her. The thought of his electric, breath-sapping kisses made her head swim anew.

  No one else had ever affected her this way. No one had. No one would. She didn’t dare let him close to her again.

  “Get the fuck away from me,” she repeated, with as much force as she could muster.

  He ignored her demand and touched her gently instead, his fingers blunt and callused, strong, like the rest of him.

  “My Jewel,” he murmured, his voice thick and raspy, as if he’d swallowed pebbles of glass.

  “I’m not yours,” she reminded him.

  He snatched his hand back, as if her words burned him. “I know.” He shook his head, as if struggling with a compulsion too strong to fight, and returned his hands to her body. Everywhere he touched her, a fierce, savage energy seemed to leap from his hands into her, pulsing into her soul, straightening her twisted limbs, easing her physical agony, letting his great strength seep into her, healing her injuries and wounds.

  Maybe he wasn’t a true healer, but he had plenty of strength to lend her. The power of his wolf drenched her in renewed vigor and stamina. His male presence revitalized her. Toned pecs and abs rippled beneath a stained T-shirt molded to him like a second skin, revealing the taut washboard chest when he moved. Muscular thighs topped long legs stuffed into black jeans so tight he might have been poured into them like wet concrete. Her inner thighs tensed, the core between them already slick for him. Molten heat poured from her to dampen her thin strip of silky panties.

  Holy crap.

  I want you, sexy beast.

  He had to know. Smell her arousal the way she scented his. Feel the fire emanating from her skin, the way his engulfed her.

  The huge bulge behind his fly was impossible to miss.

  Mate.

  Her wolf sighed plaintively, nearly whimpering in need, prickling her skin beneath the surface with its claws. Mate, mate, mate! Was the insistent inner howl loud enough for him to hear? She squirmed, as horny and desperate for him as her wolf.

  The evidence of his growing hard-on, while she lay broken on the ground, enraged her. She sniffed. The musky scent of his desire struck her anew. No question. The bastard was ready to mount her and take her as she lay, ripping her clothes off and tumbling her across the soft grass, his throbbing cock impaling her and pounding her into the dirt.

  Her nipples hardened in response to the earthy, carnal image, her breasts full and soft, straining against the fabric of her shirt, as if waiting for him to take them into his big hands, suck the jutting nipples into his mouth. Between her legs, her sex throbbed, swelling, softening, preparing for his penetration. Sweet Luna. She wanted his mouth on her there, too, tongue and fingers delving between her folds to reach her core, massaging her clit with his thumb until she screamed his name.

  She squeezed her eyes shut. Please, no. Don’t let him sense how hot he still makes me. I won’t go down that road. Not ever.

  “I won’t
tell you again to get away from me, you fucking piece of shit.”

  “You’re hurt, Julie.”

  “What was your first clue, Sherlock?”

  “I heard you. In here.” He tapped his forehead. “I scented you. Your pain. Your fear. It almost killed me inside. I couldn’t get to you fast enough.”

  “Ten fucking years, Chance. That’s how long it took you. You call a freakin’ decade fast? You’ve got some weird measurements for time, speed, and distance, buster.”

  He shook his head. “You haven’t been lying here ten years, Jules.” He swept his fingers through his hair, and frowned, as if he were trying to come up with a better explanation. Yet, he offered her none.

  Instead, he leaned over her again.

  Oh Goddess. Oh, god. He needs to get away from me. Now. Before I burst into flame.

  “Not sure why, but…when I lay my hands on your injuries…they seem to heal. You can feel the energy pass from me into you, can’t you? Hell, woman, I can practically see the electric arc surging into you. I just want to help, Jules. Please let me.”

  She noticed Brick and Summer standing behind him for the first time, their expressions worried. Still, she couldn’t curb her bitter words. “I can stand the physical pain, but I can’t stand to see you get excited by it, Chance. Waving your damn boner in my face like a fucking flag. Does it turn you on to see me like this? Do you like toying with me?”

  “No, baby, it’s not like….” He paused in his speech, as if he’d suddenly remembered something. Like the cruel way he’d dumped her without a word, maybe? Or maybe he thought she’d gone through with the mating to another male chosen by Magnum? Didn’t he realize she’d never have been so disloyal? Not as disloyal as he’d been.

  “I can endure pretty much anything, Chance. I have, in fact, over the last ten years and more. I can’t bear the kind of cruel hurt only you can inflict on me.”

  Despite whatever cautioning thought had struck him a moment before, briefly stilling his words, he kept his strong hands on her and sent his fingers meandering up and down her legs and arms, as if unable to stop touching her. She had to admit, she did feel better, in a way. At least her wounds and injuries did. The rest of her? Totally fucking numb.

  “Listen, Jules—”

  “No. You’ve got nothing to say I want to listen to.”

  “Julie, I —”

  “Is there a problem here, Northridge?”

  Drew Tao and Ryker Grey flanked him as he knelt over Julie. Neither the Black Hills Wolves’ Alpha nor his pack Enforcer looked remotely happy. Awesome.

  Great to see you again, too, guys.

  All he needed now was for Julie’s fuckin’ mate to swing by also and get a gander at him displaying an erection hard enough to drill through marble. Where the fuck was the damned mate, anyway? Unless the male was dead or miles from Los Lobos, he should be here, attending to Julie, helping her, protecting her.

  How was it he knew Julie was in trouble and her damned legitimate mate was nowhere to be found? Well, aside from the fact the connection Chance had with her sometimes felt like a piece of iron rebar staked through his heart? Not to mention the insistent Mate! Mate! Mate! howling of his wolf.

  He tried to shake off his turmoil by scrambling to his feet. At least when he was upright they were around the same height and he wasn’t crouching at their boots, like some spineless submissive. He narrowed his eyes as he gazed at the Black Hills Alpha.

  “This isn’t Los Lobos land, is it, Tao?”

  “Close enough,” the Enforcer snarled. “Show respect.”

  “He’s not my Alpha,” Chance reminded them. “Not until I take the blood oath.”

  “Are you intending to?” Drew inquired softly. “Because if you’re not….” He shrugged, but his eyes and posture telegraphed his warning loud and crystal clear.

  “If you’re not, you can leave,” Ryker finished. “Return to Shady Heart or wherever.”

  Chance glanced back over his shoulder at his brother. Had Brick betrayed him? He chewed on his lower lip. He was in no position to fling incriminations around. No matter what they’d been to each other, he knew his brother well enough to know Brick would never rat him out.

  Instead of answering, he swiveled back to stare at Julie, as if his head were a yo-yo on a string, always returning to home. How was she taking all this?

  Mother Luna. The sight of her made him crazy. Her scent—vanilla and cinnamon like his favorite sticky bun— coupled with the heady musk of her arousal, swirled around him, driving him insane. She looked a little slimmer than he remembered her as a nineteen-year-old, but now, at nearly thirty, her curves had blossomed and settled into more womanly lines. There was a toughness to her, too, missing from the girl he’d known. Something told him this woman had spine in spades. Had he’d done this to her? Had his absence turned her into a female of iron?

  All these years, her image had stayed with him, keeping him up at night, his wolf restlessly prowling, pitifully whining for its mate. Her eyes were a deeper amethyst than before, her hair longer, sun-streaked blonde highlights among the strands of light brown, the color of a burnt-lemon topaz. He’d always thought of her in gem-tone shades. She was his Jewel. Well, not his. Yet, try convincing his wolf she didn’t belong to them.

  My Jewel.

  Not yours.

  Her indignant voice rang in his head, clearly as if they’d both spoken aloud.

  Thoughts of Julie had haunted him every minute of every hour of every day he’d been away. He’d dreamed of her night after night, his fantasies increasingly carnal and erotic as the years passed. He woke stiff and hard each morning. Knowing he’d be unable to get it up with any other female, he’d become well acquainted with his hand.

  “Well?” Ryker demanded, jerking him back to their current circumstances.

  Boiling heat rose in his face. Did they know? Did they suspect? Goddess, between the erection that wouldn’t quit and his pungent scent, he might as well have sported a tattoo across his forehead: Not getting any.

  “Wasn’t sure of my welcome,” he mumbled. “Needed fortification and didn’t think Gee’s Bar would be as hospitable.”

  The night he’d left, he’d stopped by Gee’s for a little liquid courage. Immediately guessing his intentions, the giant werebear decked him with a slow swipe of his enormous paw.

  “We were on our way to Gee’s when Chance realized Julie was hurt,” Brick said. “We took a detour.”

  “And the detour last night?” Drew demanded. “I may not like or trust Cal Seven enough to have a sleepover party with him, but we do keep the lines of communication open between us.”

  Yeah, okay, so another new development. Yet, they were the alphas of the two biggest packs in the area, so it stood to reason they’d talk.

  “Can’t have you destroying Los Lobos the way you busted up Shady Heart,” Drew said. “So are you staying or not?”

  Chance scanned the faces before him. Julie flushed crimson, clearly battling warring emotions. Brick seemed to be holding his breath, and Summer’s expression seemed hopeful and expectant. She took his arm, running her hand up and down it in an encouraging manner.

  He had to admit he’d missed his baby brother. He wanted to get to know Brick’s mate and his little niece and nephew.

  Hell, he’d missed the pack, even if his memories were those of the despicable deeds of Magnum and the sick, old Alpha’s cronies, and the evil he’d wrought on the town, on Chance and Julie. Pack and family had called to him. He’d lived the life of a lone wolf, but he’d been hollow inside, the emptiness threatening to consume him as each year went by. He needed to regain his stature as a Black Hills Wolf. He needed Brick and his family, needed to find out what had happened to the other Northridges, needed an Alpha.

  Needed Julie.

  Even if it would still kill him to watch her with her mate. It would kill him more never to see her again. Maybe, just maybe, he’d get used to it over tim
e, learn to accept her with another male, and somehow move on.

  No fucking way. Mate. Mate. Mate!

  My Jewel.

  Mine!

  He shook his head to silence the clamoring wolf. “I have skills,” he told Drew. “I can help you rebuild. I’ve got a broad background in construction, can put wolves to work.”

  “We’ve already got some construction crews.”

  “I’m a licensed electrician, a licensed builder. I’ve worked with a lot of architects. I’ve been doing stuff lately with converting existing buildings to solar power and making sure new structures are solar equipped from the get-go.”

  “Not a yes or a no,” Ryker said.

  Drew held up a hand to cut off the Enforcer. The Alpha’s expression changed to one of interest, and he nodded. “You had me at solar power. I’d like to see Los Lobos gain more self-sufficiency. Not be so dependent on the outside world. So you back here for good then?”

  “This is where I belong. I want to stay.”

  Julie moaned, but he couldn’t tell whether in satisfaction or despair.

  “Okay with you, Julie?” Drew asked. She shut her eyes, but nodded briefly.

  “Good.” The Alpha pulled out the hunting knife clipped to his belt and nicked his right palm. He extended the hand to Chance. “Welcome back to your pack.”

  Chance took the knife, pricked a shallow cut in his own palm, and clasped the other man’s hand, squeezing his eyes closed. “I pledge my loyalty. To you, to the Black Hills Wolves, to Los Lobos.” Within him, the harsh empty space, so long a black void of unease, filled with warmth.

  He was back.

  He was home.

  Near Julie, even if she couldn’t belong to him. His own personal healing process could begin. As soon as he got one remaining stumbling block out of the way. He gazed from Drew to Ryker then back again, his eyes narrowing.

  “Let’s get Julie home and healed…and then maybe you can tell me what the fuck that bastard Magnum did with my brothers and sisters?”