A Mate's Denial:

by P. Jameson

  After four days away from his mate, he could barely even smell her on his jacket anymore. He turned to look at it, where it rested on the edge of the bed. Where he’d kept it since the night of the kiss. So he could smell her.

  Damn. He was a pathetic wolf.

  Trager rolled to a sit and picked up the jacket. Bringing it to his nose, he inhaled deeply. Twice. There was a lot of his own scent but only a scant trace of Kerrigan’s.

  Kerrigan.

  Just her name made his heart beat double-time. He’d gleaned a wealth of information in the time they’d spent together, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted to know everything about her. Her likes and dislikes. Her wishes and hopes and dreams. Her nightmares and fears. Her passions.

  Trager closed his eyes and recalled their kiss.

  Her skin had been satin soft as he’d scented her arousal. It had pulled him from his dream and he’d left the couch to get a better imprint of it. But the more he imprinted, the farther he wanted to go. He’d let his lips graze her neck, and the arousal had gotten stronger, making his own reach nearly uncontrollable levels. He’d tasted her skin, and it went to nuclear.

  He wanted her; she wanted him. But he’d pulled back. He wanted to mate her, not one-and-done it. To make that happen, he had to take this slow, gain her trust. And hopefully her heart. She already had his. Hook, line, and sinker. But she was human and things worked differently for them. They didn’t fall in love soul-first. All in or nothing. They eased into it, warily. Because for them, there were many options.

  For shifters, there was one. And nature had a way of making them fall fast and hard for that person. It was the most amazing experience, feeling so much for someone you’d only just met. Even if… even if the Elders were right about her, he wouldn’t regret his feelings. How could he, when he felt like he’d kissed a rainbow. Like the sun was shining on his night. Like he’d met the missing piece to his puzzle.

  Staying away after he’d tasted her mouth was pure torture, but he knew if he saw her again so soon, he’d have trouble keeping his lips off her. And his hands for that matter. He’d dreamed of her curves so many times that now, he was practically aching to feel them for real.

  Trager showered—cold—and made a quick breakfast of bacon and eggs. Then he went outside to work off some steam. There was plenty of fire wood that needed splitting, and he should check the perimeters of his property. A little time running with his wolf would do him some good.

  The sun was high in the sky, and Trager had worked up a good sweat despite the cool air by the time he’d finished splitting the wood. His muscles were loose and his mind had cleared a fraction. After stacking it neatly on the small porch, he removed his clothes and shifted. Shaking out his fur, he lifted his nose to the chilled blue sky and sniffed. There was nothing strange in the air, but he needed to run. A lap around his land was exactly the prescription his wolf soul needed.

  Taking off through the dense cover of trees that kept his cabin hidden from most of the world, he headed for the north boundary. The cool air on his fur as he darted between heavy-barked trunks rejuvenated him. From the north, he cut west. The scuffle of smaller animals was a soothing sound. It also made his stomach rumble. Chasing down a rabbit was an easy task before he wrapped around, coming up to the back of the area where his cabin was. A final inhale gave him the all-clear. His place was safe. He was fed and exercised, and the sun was going to set soon.

  Time to be human again.

  Leaving the rough forest floor, he changed, and padded over the too-long grass behind his house. He stretched until his bones cracked, and then shook out his arms. One of the greatest things about living so far out in the country: there was no one to stop him from walking around naked outside.

  If he ever—when—he brought Kerrigan home, he would take her body outside, in the open air. Maybe under the moonlight. He imagined how it would paint her skin in shadows and muted light, highlighting her hills and valleys.

  Trager groaned, and stared down at his erection. He’d have to take care of that soon, one way or another.

  He needed a distraction. There was no more wood to chop, no bike to tune up, and a freezer full of meat, so no hunting to do. The only option was a trip to Bullseye. He needed to talk to Asa anyway. Hopefully, the old man had some information for him.

  An hour later, Trager pulled up outside the ragtag bar that served as a resting spot for all types. He figured Bullseye was one of the few places on earth that could appeal to people from all walks of life. It was an interesting concoction of cowboys, bikers, Goths, and college students. And for some reason, Thursday night was always their busiest.

  Stepping out of his 4-Runner, he sniffed the air, scenting a few Ravendale wolves nearby. Hopefully one of them was Asa.

  Inside, the booming music was loud southern rock. Five minutes from now, it could be boot scootin’, and five minutes after that, hipster metal.

  Trager took a seat at the back of the bar and ordered a Corona. Scanning his surroundings, he looked for the wolves but didn’t see any he recognized. The stale air in the building had stifled their scent. He’d wait. All night if he had to. Asa frequented this place more than anyone else he knew.

  The bar was full of scantily dressed women. As a younger wolf, Trager might have enjoyed the scene. But ever since he’d gotten serious about tracking his mate, something in his brain had changed. These women, though attractive and more than willing to please, didn’t cause his blood to warm. In fact, their nearness—like with Avan—made him feel ill.

  He smiled to himself. He belonged to only one.

  His smile slipped. He hoped one day she’d belong to him too.

  He wondered what she was doing tonight. Did she miss him at all? Was she curious why he hadn’t returned to see her yet? He figured she’d spent her week working. The elementary school was another reason he’d fallen so hard for her already. She obviously loved kids if she’d chosen to be a teacher. He bet she’d make an amazing mother one day.

  Gulping his beer, and fiddling with a napkin, he didn’t notice when the bar became strangely quiet. Not silent. The music still banged out steel guitar chords, and a few who’d already had too much to drink cackled or hooted, but the overall noise level had dropped drastically.

  Trager looked around to see why. Over by the door, stood a couple of big-ass dudes. One wore a shirt with the sleeves cut off, and looked like he could bench-press Trager’s 4-Runner. Both massive arms were tattooed from wrist to shoulder. His head was buzzed and his eyebrows formed dual slashes above his eyes that dipped toward his nose, making a ledge out of his forehead. The other one looked just as big and bad. His blond hair was shaved on the sides, and he sported a full beard that nearly touched the top of his chest. But it was his eyes that held people spellbound. They contained the kind of fury you could light with a match and blow the whole place up. The danger held there was tangible.

  Trager didn’t recognize them, but he knew exactly who they were. Ravendale wolves. And going by the extreme response of everyone in the room, not just any Ravendale wolves. This was the alpha and his second.

  For once he wished he could stop breathing. The imprint, the blond one was sending out was intense. It made Trager’s wolf paw at him to get out, to go far away, so he couldn’t be under the alpha’s influence.

  Never. Trager would never allow it. He was a lone wolf, and he’d bow to no alpha ever again. When he’d submitted to the Ozarka guards it was to save his sister only. It wouldn’t happen again. And especially not to the leader of the Ravendales.

  The alpha strolled to the counter, his tattooed friend following closely behind, eyes lasering about the room. He banged his fist on the counter and the bartender jumped, fumbling a shot glass.

  Asshole.

  Trager chugged his drink and tried to soothe his wolf with thoughts of Kerrigan. The animal part of him was struggling under the influence more than others in the room, to not submit to the alpha’s imprint.

  The first wo
man to approach the blond bastard was sent on her way. Three others, all dark-haired, were given the same treatment. Trager almost laughed as they scrambled toward a group of frat boys who were pretending to play pool. He nodded at the bunch, hoping they’d take their little party somewhere else. But the guys were each taking a turn sizing up the Ravendale wolves.

  Time passed while Trager did his best to ignore the alpha and his second. He waited for Asa to show. It was possible the old man wouldn’t make an appearance with his own alpha in the building. Maybe he couldn’t.

  The first time they’d spoken, Asa made it clear that he was only doling out information to Trager in hopes of preventing a war. He’d told Trager the Ravendale alpha claimed to want Ozarka land for their own—which was a valid reason to challenge another pack—but what he really wanted was revenge.

  Asa had proceeded to tell Trager the story of how the Ravendale pack came to be. Almost twenty years ago, when Trager was only four years old, Jax, the alpha of the Ozarkas, took a mate. Trager remembered the grand celebration, and the way the alpha’s mate had been paraded around camp in a fancy dress. People had brought the couple gifts and sang songs and played games. Trager had eaten more candy that night than he could hold, but his tiny wolf had kept him from being sick.

  What Trager didn’t know were the circumstances surrounding the most important mating in Ozarka pack’s history. Besh, their new first mate, did not come willingly to her mating ceremony. Even though she bore the alpha’s mark, his imprint, and she was his destined mate, she hadn’t wanted to belong to him. The reason chilled Trager to the bone: she’d had another.

  Besh was in love with a wolf not destined to be hers. And worse, the wolf was in love with her too. They’d attempted to run from Jax but his team had hunted them down, brought her home, and beat her lover nearly to death. As his punishment for trying to take what was the alpha’s, Jax had ordered him to live, remaining with the pack so the wolf could watch Besh become Jax’s mate.

  But the beaten heal. And members of the pack who knew Besh’s hand had been forced, rallied behind the young wolf. Time passed and he, along with his supporters took their complaints to the pack Elders, who called for a forum. Hopeful that they could free the young female from an unwanted mating, the adults of the pack gathered in the arena. The forum had been cut short though, with one statement from the first mate: “I have chosen my fated mate, Jax, of my own free will, and hereby request that the liar and traitor, Cael, be expelled from the Ozarka pack for the remainder of his life.”

  Trager stared at the blond beast at the bar. Cael hadn’t just been expelled. He’d taken a third of the pack with him. And apparently, he’d grown it to such a number he felt he could take down the alpha who’d stolen his love.

  But what about the rest of the Ozarka wolves? The innocents like Gabby? They didn’t deserve what Ravendale was planning.

  Asa slid stealthily into the seat across from Trager. He was massive, but nothing compared to Cael and his muscle-bound cohort. More along the lines of Trager. The older wolf hunched his shoulders, apparently trying to seem smaller or more inconspicuous.

  “About time,” Trager muttered.

  A red eyebrow, tinged with gray, arched. “Things are a bit… volatile right now.” His gaze drifted over to his alpha. “Besides, it’s not like we had an appointment, loner.”

  “True.”

  “So, have you come up with a plan yet?”

  “Me? I thought you were going to work some kind of magic on your end while I put out a warning to Ozarka.”

  Asa ran his hand through his hair. “I suck at magic. Listen, I don’t know how much longer the Elders can hold him back.”

  Trager glanced at the alpha. His glare sliced through the room like a missile seeking a target.

  “What’s your stake in all this?” He knew Asa had never been a part of Ozarka so he had no connections there, no reason to tip the scale. And as for his claims about not wanting a war, Cael looked like a freight train that couldn’t be stopped.

  Asa’s mouth became grim. “I have my reasons.”

  “Not good enough,” Trager snapped. “In order to warn Ozarka, I have to bring my mate into this. That means I better have a damn good reason for doing that. So far, you haven’t given me one.” He didn’t have to know Trager had reasons of his own. Gabbi and Farrow.

  Asa’s eyes narrowed. “You think I’m an idiot, boy? I know you have family there, and I’m guessing you don’t want them in the middle of this.”

  “I wouldn’t risk my mate for the people who threw me out.” It was true. But Gabbi and Farrow weren’t part of that.

  Hunching closer to the table, Asa spoke low. “I owe him my life. I know he seems… hard, but his biggest problem is his heart is too big. Being an alpha didn’t come natural for Cael. He did it out of spite. It was something to work for, a goal to conquer.” He shook his head before speaking again. “His love for that female is eating him alive. And if he goes through with this, he’ll just end up hurt. I’ve been protecting him too long to let that happen.”

  Trager looked to the bar to see two furious bronze eyes zeroed in on him.

  “Shit,” he muttered.

  Asa turned in time to see Cael and his man, barreling through the crowd toward them.

  “Relax. It’s fine.”

  Trager’s wolf growled low, already wanting to challenge rather than bow.

  Cael walked right up to them, slamming his palms down and leaning low over the table. “Who are you?”

  Ignoring Buzz-cut, Trager straightened. “Who are you?” He knew if he backed down now, he’d lose this battle of wills.

  “You’re a wolf, in my bar. I guess that makes me your motherfucking alpha.” Cael’s eyes skated the edge of crazy, the way they blazed.

  “It’s not your bar.”

  His mouth formed an evil grin. “It is tonight. You Ozarka?”

  “No.”

  He stood up, tossing a look to Asa before turning to his partner. “Haze, it looks like we have a new recruit to train.”

  Trager stood to his full height—which left him almost eye-level with the alpha. “I’m no one’s,” he growled. “I’m a loner, and I intend to keep it that way.”

  Cael’s gaze narrowed. “Is that right.”

  Trager nodded once.

  “Asa, explain why you’re hanging with a drifter.”

  The old man sighed. “You want the long or the short.”

  Cael’s eyes broke away from Trager to glare at Asa. “Try the short.”

  “I hang with whoever I want.”

  The alpha looked like he wanted to throttle someone. Lots of someones. But specifically, the graying wolf. “Give me the long.”

  Asa shrugged. “He doesn’t have a pack because they kicked him out when the Elders had a vision that his mate would reject him. Sound familiar? I was talking to him about joining ours, but he’d rather be a lone wolf. Then you walked up with your attitude hanging out, and pretty much sealed the deal, I think.”

  Seconds passed before Cael turned back to Trager. “Your mate rejected you?” His question was quiet, almost inaudible in the noise that had resumed in the building. But what struck Trager as odd, was the fact that he didn’t seem to be judging him. Trager was used to people looking at him like he was a leper, but this wolf seemed almost… puzzled.

  “Not yet.”

  “And when she does?” he ground out. “What will you do then?”

  The guy might as well have punched Trager in the gut. For the past four days, he’d tried hard not to think about that scenario. Because the truth was, he didn’t know. He didn’t know what he’d do if he had to live without her.

  “It’s really none of your business.” He tried for a calm tone but didn’t quite pull it off.

  Cael stared at him, clearly thinking something over. Then his brow relaxed a fraction. “I think you’d better go now,” he said. “Ravendale doesn’t need your kind around.”

  Yeah. Trager was no fool
. If this alpha was letting him go so easily, there was a reason for it. But that didn’t mean he was waiting around to find out. Buzz-cut looked like he was itching to teach someone a lesson.

  With a quick glance at Asa—that hopefully conveyed that he should get his ass in gear and figure out a way to stop this war—Trager brushed past the big-ass duo and made his way toward the door.

  Chapter Nine

  There were decisions to make, and Kerrigan didn’t have enough brain power to make them no matter how much coffee she pumped into her system. She stared at the items she’d pulled from her kitchen cabinets, then at the two giant boxes on the floor. TRASH or KEEP. That was the question. Anything she couldn’t take with her on the plane to Alaska, would have to be shipped. Which was crazy expensive. And she wouldn’t need most of this stuff anyway until she could afford to get her own place. Until then, she’d be under good ol’ dad’s roof.

  She glared at the Keurig. It had become her enemy. Sure, it still made wonderful coffee. But ever since Saturday, it was just an ugly reminder of him.

  Trager. The bastard. Trager, the biker. Who set her ablaze, before discarding her with an empty promise to return. He’d seemed so… into her. Why hadn’t he come back?

  Pitifully, she’d gone to the café every morning hoping to run into him. But he never showed. He’d just disappeared like a freaking Houdini stunt or something.

  Figured.

  Kerrigan slid everything from the counter and put it in the TRASH box. She’d give it to a shelter or something.

  What kind of person was she? That she could be this torn up about a guy she’d barely known? But she did know things about him. She knew he was polite. More so than she was. She cringed at the way she’d spoken to him when they first met. She knew he wasn’t afraid to call her out when he thought she was being a judgmental ass. She knew he wasn’t going to shame her for wanting to eat. And she knew he found her attractive.

  Or, she thought she knew that. What else was that soul-searing kiss about?

  Her hands shook as she pulled more useless things from the cabinet.