Jessica Lee

by The KinKaid Wolf Pack Trilogy

  Evin lifted his gaze the two inches that brought him eye to eye with his father. "It's not your call," he growled.

  "The hell it isn't," Barron shouted. "You're the alpha prime, and you will accept your duty and carry on the bloodline of our family."

  "I never said I wouldn't accept my role as alpha prime, but I cannot mate with Jocelyn or any other female."

  A groan began low in the alpha's chest and then burst from this throat. The next thing Evin knew, his father's clawed hand was wrapped around his neck. Shrill screams belonging to his mother and sister rang in his ears.

  "You're not my son," Barron snarled, his head shaking back and forth. Evin's feet left the floor. "An abomination to our bloodline."

  He couldn't breathe, and the sharp points of Barron's claws dug into his flesh. His father drew his arm back, and then Evin's head snapped forward as he was hurled through the air. His back collided with the wooden coffee table in the center of the room. Pain sizzled up his spine and into his brain, blurring his vision. His back arched, and an agonized howl filled the open space. Evin sucked in a breath and realized the cry had to be his own.

  Reflex rolled him over, off the wood, and onto all fours. Black fur erupted from his pores. Fingernails curled into claws. The sound of popping stitches and tearing cotton grew loud in his ears. Evin's head kicked back and a growl tore from this throat. He whipped around to find his father's half-human, half-wolf form in midair, his large paws aimed straight for Evin's head.

  Evin dug his claws into the wool of the braided rug beneath his pads and launched himself to the left, barely dodging the alpha's pounce. But he hadn't moved fast enough. The other wolf's front paw had snagged his hind section, ripping open the soft tissue. Evin spun, blood from the wound splattering the floor as he turned and faced his challenger's snarl.

  Head-on they clashed.

  Jaws snapped.

  Blood and saliva flew as they fought for dominance, each seeking the other's neck for that final, throat-crushing bite.

  The taste of their combined blood coated Evin's tongue. His heart hammered in his chest, and his breath rushed from his lungs in rapid pants. There was no time to think about the repercussions of his actions. There was only act and react.

  Dominate or submit.

  Live or die.

  At that moment, no longer did a father and son fight. The wolf had laid claim to whom or what would survive in the room tonight.

  Searing pain clamped around Evin's throat, bringing him to a rapid halt and lifting his front legs off the floor. Evin howled and writhed against the restraint. He flung his head in his father's direction and found the source of his new enemy. The alpha's security detail had arrived and had ensnared them both with a silver halo: a silver-laced noose attached to a long steel pole.

  Out of the corner of his eye, his mother and sister moved between them.

  "You will stop this battle now," the queen commanded. "I will not tolerate father and son killing each other in my home—or anywhere, for that matter." Her gaze darted from Evin to his father. "Shift now so we can resolve this."

  Evin breathed deep through his nostrils and stretched his limbs, bringing the image of his human form into focus. A tingling sensation began in his feet then raced across his body as his fur retracted. His bones shifted, sending a lingering ache through his joints as his extremities returned to their normal length.

  "Get this damn thing off from around my neck."

  Seconds after his father's command, a click sounded behind Evin. The strap loosened and was lifted over his head. His skin burned from the prolonged contact of the silver against his flesh.

  One of the guard staff dropped Evin a robe. He glanced up and noticed his mother securing one around his father.

  "There's nothing to resolve, Sable," his father said, then turned and faced Evin. "Evin determined the outcome of this night—and his future—the moment he decided he preferred to have sex with men instead of being the alpha his pack deserves."

  Evin slid his robe on and stood, swallowing hard at the acid burning the back of his throat. He'd never get his father to understand this wasn't a choice. Barron sauntered toward him, slow and deliberate steps that spoke of his alpha status. He stopped inches from Evin's face.

  "When you decide you're ready to be a real man—the alpha your pack expects and demands—you can return to my home. Until then, I want you out of my sight and out of this pack."

  "Father, please!" Rosa darted across the room and gripped their father's arm. "Please don't hurt him like this. It's not a choice. It's who he is, and he's my brother." Her gaze swung between them, tears filling her large blue eyes.

  "Do not condone his actions, Rosa," he said, shaking off her hold.

  "He's my brother!"

  "He's an abomination!"

  Evin flinched. The repugnance in his father's voice struck like a blow to his gut.

  "I refuse to accept what he's become in my home." Barron whirled, and with his back turned, announced, "You have two minutes to say your good-byes to your mother and sister." With his spine straight and shoulders rigid, his father stormed from the room. The alpha queen moved on hesitant feet in Evin's direction. She reached up, and with her palm, smoothed the long strands of his black hair out of his eyes and away from his face. Slowly she shook her head, turned her back, and walked away.

  Evin's breath hitched. Dammit. He'd never wanted to hurt them.

  From the corner of the room, Jocelyn sashayed toward him.

  "So sorry you got kicked out of your pack and everything, Evin." She sighed. "But I told you I would make you pay for betraying me." Jocelyn reached out and stroked his cheek. Evin jerked his face away from her touch. She pulled her hand back and shrugged. "Now...we're even." Jocelyn pivoted, and without another word, left the room.

  Evin closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, grasping for the remaining threads of his control. He felt for the ties to his robe at his waist, cinched them tighter, then opened his eyes and glanced over at his sister. She stood with her arms across her chest, as if she could hold in the emotion that appeared to be tearing her apart—and breaking his heart in two.

  Rosa strode toward him, and Evin met her halfway. She wrapped her arms around him and held him close. Exactly what he needed. Rosa always knew. Ever since they were little, Rosa had been there whenever he'd needed someone.

  She sniffed, then pulled back. "You're going to be okay." She nodded with a failed attempt at a smile. "These tears are only because I'm going to miss you so damn much." Evin reached out and wiped the moisture from her cheeks.

  "I'm going to miss you too." He swallowed. "You're my heart. You know that, right?"

  Rosa nodded again. She lifted her hands to his face and cupped his jaw.

  "You will be fine—and happy—Evin KinKaid. Believe me. It's out there waiting for you. You just have to trust in what you find."

  Chapter Two

  Dover, Washington, USA

  One year later

  "Can I see some ID, please?"

  Mason reached into his wallet, removed his driver's license, and handed it to the convenience store clerk. The older gentleman held the credit card next to Mason's license and lifted his reading glasses into place. He glanced at Mason, then back at the photo before comparing the names. "Mason Thorne II." His weathered blue gaze darted to Mason again, and a half smile turned up his lips. "Any relation to the Thorne Global?"

  A groan formed at the back of Mason's throat, but he forced it back. In its place, he shaped his well-practiced, polite smile and nodded. "That's my father's pride and joy." The clerk released a low whistle and shook his head.

  "I can't even imagine growing up around all that money, son," he said, sliding the card through the reader. Mason released a humph of acknowledgment. Yeah, the old man didn't know what he'd missed by not being the son of a shipping tycoon, whose world revolved around business first and his family second. The receipt rolled from the register, and after tearing it free, the clerk handed
Mason a pen for his signature. "You planning on spending some time in Dover, or just passing through?"

  Mason scribbled his name and handed the pen back. "Just passing through."

  "On your way back to Seattle?"

  Easing his wallet back into his jeans pocket, Mason muttered a "that's right," turned, and headed toward his car.

  "Have a safe trip," the clerk added. Mason threw his hand up and gave the older gentleman a smile as he stepped outside.

  One week. That was all he had left before he had to return to work and grad school. Damn. How had his vacation flown by so fast? Mason slid onto the leather driver's seat of his convertible, pulled the door shut, and secured his seat belt. He glanced over at the passenger floorboard, where a dark case housed his most prized possession: his guitar. Mason couldn't help the smirk he knew sat on his face. His father may have been able to guilt him into obtaining an MBA, but he couldn't take away Mason's passion for music, no matter how damn hard he tried to mold him into a reproduction of himself.

  Mason pressed the Start button, pulled away from the gas pump, and turned back onto the two-lane country road, heading west. He should have stayed on the main highway; it would have been faster. But God knew he was in no hurry to get home. So why not enjoy some of the countryside?

  Playtime had been over too soon, and his father expected him to promptly return to his junior executive position at TGI. And what Mason Thorne the first wanted, he never failed to get. If it couldn't be bought, then guilt and manipulation were his tools of persuasion.

  Even against his own son.

  A deep, tree-lined bend in the road loomed ahead, and Mason tapped the brake as he headed into the curve. He glanced down at the black leather briefcase propped on the passenger seat, its bronze TGI emblem encircled by a graphic of the world shined in the dappled sunlight. His stomach clenched at the sight. Mason swung his gaze back to the road, and his heart leaped into his throat.

  "Shit!" A large white wolf stood in his lane.

  Mason stomped on the brakes and yanked a hard right on the steering wheel. He veered wide, missing the wolf, but his tires dropped off the low shoulder of the road. Instinct had him pulling back left, but velocity careened the car out of control. His car shot across the centerline and slammed him into a ditch.

  Dazed, Mason ran his hands over his face as he sat staring at the large BMW letters in the center of the steering wheel. A long, deep breath slowly released from his lungs. Damn. That was too close. The wolf... Where...? Mason glanced to his left, then right.

  Large blue eyes locked with his on the other side of the passenger door. His breath hitched, and he gripped the leather-wrapped wheel. He'd never seen a real, live wolf this close. Wow, it was beautiful. Mason squirmed in his seat, reaching for his cell that had fallen onto the floorboard. The animal jerked, stepped back, then dashed into the dense tree line.

  Two hours and a tow truck ride later, Mason was still in Dover. He watched from the lobby as his Bimmer was hobbled into the bay of a local mechanic’s shop. Mason pushed on the double doors of the waiting area and slowly followed the progression of his car onto the pit rack. This being a small town, no signs were posted that stated customers had to remain out of the work area, like one would find at a large dealership.

  A young redheaded man popped out from behind the wheel, chocked the rear tire, and called out to another technician beneath the car. "She's all yours, Evin."

  "Thanks, Doug," a smooth, deep voice replied from the pit. Mason's brows lifted. Nice.

  The junior tech stepped toward the office, giving Mason a dismissive glance over his shoulder as he approached the rear bumper. With a click then a thump, followed by the sound of compressed air surging through the hose lines, the convertible's front tires lifted from the plate racks. Mason moved in and crouched by the front wheel that appeared to have taken the worst of the damage.

  "How bad does it look?" Mason rested his forearms on the linen pants that covered his thighs and peered around the displaced tire at the shadowed figure moving beneath the front end.

  "You've definitely got some bent parts here," the tech known as Evin replied in the same deep voice that skated across Mason's skin and lifted the hairs on his arms. "The good news is I think the damage is isolated to parts only, meaning it doesn’t appear you have any frame damage." Sexy Voice stepped from underneath the car and rounded the wheel.

  And Mason forgot to breathe.

  Damn. No man had the right to look that delicious.

  Straight and black-as-sin hair brushed the top of one shoulder, with the other side tucked behind his ear. Eyes the color of a clear summer sky captured his gaze and, in that moment, had Mason wanting to drop to his knees. Because every instinct told him that if he ever got to watch this man lose control, it would be fucking amazing.

  He wore a snug-fitting dark blue T-shirt that barely contained his biceps. Mason licked his lips.

  "Hi, I'm Evin," Delicious said, climbing the concrete steps that brought him onto the same level with Mason. The air he forgot he'd been holding rushed from his lungs as the other man moved in his direction. Evin's long stride took him to Mason's side with only a few steps. Mason straightened as he neared, but his gaze lowered to the faded blue jeans wrapped around thighs that should belong to an athlete. Evin was built like a runner, but at the same time possessed broad shoulders and arms made for strength—a combination that made Mason's palms itch to touch and his dick more than interested.

  With a smile, Evin wiped his hands on a shop towel and then held his right out in offering. Mason swallowed, then wrapped his fingers around Evin's.

  Electric.

  No other word could describe the tingling sensation that began where their skin met, igniting the nerve endings that arrowed straight to his cock.

  "And you are...?"

  "What?" Mason glanced up from where their hands were still joined. If Evin had felt what he did, he hid it well. His expression gave away nothing but a grin.

  "Your name. I'll be happy to put together an estimate for you, and if you choose to proceed, I’ll order your parts. But I'll need your name first."

  "Oh. Of course." Mason slid his palm free and gave him a smile in return. "Mason Thorne."

  "Mason...nice name," he said, then curled one side of his mouth into a smile that showcased a dimple.

  God, Mason loved the way his name rolled off Evin's tongue. It heated his blood like a hot brandy on a cold night.

  "If you follow me, we'll go inside, and I can get that estimate for you." Evin indicated the side door with a tilt of his head.

  "Sure. Let me get something out of here first." Mason turned, reached over into his car, and grabbed his guitar and briefcase. "I just want to secure these..." He swung back around at the same time Evin's gaze jumped from where it looked like he’d been perusing Mason's ass.

  Well, fuck...me. Please.

  Could his sex-on-a-stick auto tech be gay? This accident might turn out not to be such a bad thing after all. Mason's guitar slipped in his hand, reminding him of what he'd been about to do. "Yeah, let me put these in the trunk, and I'll be right there."

  After a few phone calls, Evin had put a plan of action together for Mason. He appeared good at his job, which Mason respected. And he was a pleasure to watch in action. Evin was thorough, quick, and moved around the office with a fluidity that once again reminded him of an athlete. No—wait. More like a predatory animal whose stealth meant his survival. Yeah, that was it.

  "Well, I have good news and bad news," Evin said as he approached the counter where Mason waited on the other side. "Which would you like first?" Evin rested his forearms on the laminated top and leaned in, paperwork in hand.

  "Let's start with the good." Mason gave a halfhearted attempt at a laugh, propped his elbow on the countertop, then rested his chin in the palm of his hand as he studied the figures Evin presented.

  "I found the parts you need."

  "That's good to hear."

  "That's you
r good news."

  Mason glanced up. "And the bad?"

  "Since this is Friday, they can't get them here until at least Tuesday."

  "Tuesday?" Mason pushed back from the counter and groaned. He'd counted on being home by tomorrow and having a few days to himself before he had to return to the hellhole he called a job. Shit. What was he going to do in this town with no ca and stuck in a hotel for the next four days?

  "I'm sorry, man. Wish I could do more, but that's the best option I found."

  "I know." Mason nodded. "I know you've done all you can. I'm just not from around here, and with no car, I'm stranded until that's repaired."

  "Dover's not so bad. I moved here last year myself. It's kind of nice. Peaceful."

  Mason met Evin's soft blue gaze and couldn't help but feel there was a lot more to the story as to why Evin had ended up in Dover.

  "In fact," Evin began and handed the estimate over to Mason. "I'm getting ready to close up and grab a bite to eat. How about I take you over to Bruno's and introduce you to the best steak you'll ever find in the Pacific Northwest?"

  "The best, huh?" Mason raised a brow and grinned.

  "It'll make you growl." He sent Mason a look that promised a dinner he wouldn't forget. And Mason had a feeling Evin made good on his promises.

  "Now how can I pass on an offer like that?"

  * * *

  Evin was absolutely right.

  The steak had been amazing, as well as the company.

  Mason didn't want to think about how long it had been since he'd been out to dinner with a man. Back home, everyone knew him as Mason Thorne II, heir to a multimillion-dollar fortune. Finding someone who was more interested in him than his bank account was nearly impossible. So most of Mason's evenings were spent with his arms around his guitar rather than a lover.

  Dinner with Evin was like breathing: refreshing and easy. They'd talked about anything and everything as if they'd known each other for years. He'd discovered that Evin and he shared the same passion for motorcycles and fast cars. Evin had assured him that the back roads around Dover were a bike lover's wet dream.