Welsh Wolves 1: Let Sleeping Wolves Lie

by Tielle St Clare

  “Just let him go,” Reese said, opening another bottle of red wine. “He’s got to come back through, right?”

  Dex nodded glumly.

  “I’ll clean this up.” Micah stood up. “You get those drinks delivered.”

  Feeling like a kid who’d gotten in trouble by the school principal, Dex picked up the tray Reese had reloaded. The sympathy on Reese’s face didn’t help.

  Dex sighed. Could things possibly be more screwed up? He turned slowly, making sure there was no one nearby who he could pour more alcohol on and went back to work. The wolf whimpered its distress, but Dex ignored it and concentrated on his job.

  His mate had to return sometime.

  Chapter Two

  Maddock dragged the suit jacket off and hung it up. Most of the wine and dark beer had landed on his shirt, but enough had splattered on the jacket and pants that the suit was ruined. What a fucked up day this had turned out to be.

  Maddock patted the front of his shirt with a wet paper towel. “That's what you get wearing a four thousand dollar suit into a dive bar. Fuck.”

  He stopped moving for a moment and closed his mouth, drawing in a long breath. Something had obviously gotten him stirred up. He didn't use the word “fuck” that often unless he was actually, well, fucking. The fact that it was popping up in his brain meant his usual tight control was being strained.

  A quick glance down told him part of the problem. He had a freakin' hard-on. Not a normal occurrence during a business day. Even if the woman who might eventually be his fiancée was sitting across from him.

  Monica didn't inspire that kind of lust. Oh, he liked fucking her well enough and could imagine doing it for the rest of his life, but she didn't make him think of sex. He thought about sex, then he directed his thoughts to her.

  It would make it extremely uncomfortable to work with a woman who constantly made him hard.

  So what the hell had happened?

  He'd been on his phone—nothing that would arouse him—and the only other person who'd been near was the waiter.

  Damn, the guy didn't look old enough to be out of high school let alone working in a bar. But that smile.

  Fuck, he’d smiled at Maddock like he was the only person who mattered in the world. The kid could make a fortune with that kind of customer service.

  Too bad he was wasting it in a biker bar.

  Maddock rolled his shoulders back trying to shake the tension.

  The waiter wasn’t his problem. His problem was he was covered in red wine and black beer. He shook his head and stared in the mirror. He couldn't meet the Realtor looking like he'd killed someone.

  Another glance in the mirror confirmed the shirt, tie and trousers were a loss.

  Great, the afternoon’s wasted.

  Monica could call the Realtor and make an appointment for later.

  He walked back into the bar, glancing around, telling himself he was just making sure the little waiter wasn't hiding in the corner, waiting to dump more booze on him.

  A couple of tables had filled up in during the time he’d been in the john.

  The big guy still sat at the bar, watching. He looked like a lion, sitting high on a cliff. Maddock could practically see him surveying his domain.

  The guy behind the bar wore glasses and reached for bottles without actually looking.

  A blind bartender? That had to be some kind of gimmick. He was suddenly glad he hadn't ordered a mixed drink. Though the guy moved with confidence, grabbing a bottle of Triple Sec and pouring it into the shaker. As if he felt Maddock's eyes on him, he turned his head and looked at Maddock.

  Even through the black glasses, Maddock could feel the man’s appraising stare. For a moment, he felt frozen, trapped, but after a few tense heartbeats, the sensation vanished into his imagination.

  Maddock dragged his gaze away and returned to his table, ready to get the hell home and out of the damp and sticky shirt.

  Monica was on the phone, talking in a serious tone that told him it was a business call and sipping her wine.

  A pint glass of black liquid sat in front of his chair.

  Hell, the drinks were there. They would at least drink them. He put his jacket back on to cover the stain and sat down.

  Maddock took a sip of the black beer and had to force himself to swallow. It wasn't quite what he'd expected. He took another sip and decided it wasn't so bad. It definitely wasn't the pale ales he usually drank.

  The bottom of his pant leg twitched and Maddock froze. Did this damn place have mice? Another flutter moved across his ankle then pressure, up the side of his calf.

  Reality struck him. That was Monica's foot.

  He looked up and met Monica's gaze. She winked over the edge of her wineglass.

  She was flirting with him. At work. They'd worked together for five years but had only started sleeping together a few months ago. Office gossip said they were getting married. Maddock wasn’t sure who had started that rumor, but he hadn’t corrected it. Yet.

  It made sense. Maddock could take over from Monica's father when he retired and the firm stayed in the family. But they'd been careful to keep business and sex separate. Why would she suddenly turn sexy on him?

  Unless she’d seen his hard-on and thought she'd caused it. He forced a smile, hoping he put enough interest in it to let her know he appreciated the offer.

  He could fuck her tonight. He hadn't really planned on it—they were going to get back to town fairly late. They had a charity reception the company sponsored—homeless turtles or something—but Maddock could probably schedule in a quick fuck before he went home and finished reviewing the budgets the CFO was supposed to complete today.

  Monica continued her phone call and another email from Tim came through. Maddock read through it quickly. Tim was doing research on who owned the properties around the farm they were intending to buy. Not that it mattered. He needed the one plot of land. Having the others would just be a bonus. Future expansion options were always good to have.

  “Sending you contact information for the owners on both sides of the parcel. The one to the north is a recent purchase and Realtor says they aren't likely to sell. Commune or something.”

  Maddock scoffed and typed his reply. “Even communes have to eat. Thx.”

  He flipped through his email, took another sip of the beer that tasted like he was eating bread and looked around the bar.

  The waiter who'd dumped the wine on him was moving through the space, wiping down empty tables and stopping at the full ones. One group in particular seemed to be getting his attention. Four guys, big guys, took up the space around the table. The kid seemed to be in his element. He managed to tease and almost flirt, but it didn't seem to bother the men. There was no aggression in his movements.

  He tipped his head back and laughed at something one of guys said, then bent down and whispered something into the man's ear. Tight jeans molded to the kid's ass and Maddock felt his cock harden again.

  Fuck. What was wrong with him?

  Monica leaned forward and lowered her voice.

  “The twink was right.” She lifted up her glass. “It’s actually not a bad wine. I mean, for a place like this.”

  Maddock’s mind locked onto one word. “Twink?”

  “The blond kid. A little light in the loafers, wouldn’t you say?”

  Maddock nodded absently.

  “He seemed to like you well enough.”

  “What?” The question whipped out of his mouth.

  “Nothing. Don’t go all homophobic on me.” She sipped her wine and shrugged one beige shoulder. “I’m just saying, he wasn’t drooling over me.” She smirked as if this reflected on him somehow.

  Maddock just took another sip of the black beer. His eyes scanned the room and locked on the waiter. More particularly, the waiter’s ass and the way it rocked with each step.

  His cock twitched in his trousers and Maddock was tempted to cross his legs, but Monica watched him so closely he didn’t wa
nt her to notice that he was getting hard from staring at another guy.

  Dex made the rounds, determinedly keeping his eyes off the table where his mate sat with the human female. There were only a few other tables so it didn't take long to check on drinks.

  The construction guys were interesting. They were working on a job site about ten miles away, but it took forty minutes to get there. Their drive home brought them past The Red Dragon so Dex couldn't say he minded. The bar needed all the business they could get. They weren't in the black yet but heading that direction.

  He glanced toward the table with his mate. The woman's glass was almost empty. His mate was about halfway through the black. Might not have been the best choice. It was an acquired taste.

  He returned to the bar and placed his next order. Looked like Reese was on break. Micah was behind the counter. He wasn’t as good as Reese, but he managed.

  “Here.”

  Micah slid a business card across the bar. Dex picked it up. It had the name of the bar, address, phone number. He flipped it over. Someone had written Dex’s name and cell phone on the back.

  “Offer to have his suit cleaned.”

  If it had been Reese, he would have expected a wink, a bit of teasing. Not Micah. He looked stern, as if he didn’t care—he just didn’t want any hassle.

  Dex tapped the card on the countertop and nodded. Micah’s lower lip tightened. It was a hint of sympathy and just what Dex needed.

  He pushed his shoulders back, hoping some faked confidence would help. Taking a deep breath, he flipped around. Maddock—his mate—still sat with the woman.

  Dex breathed again, capturing the oxygen in his chest and holding it as he walked over, hoping it would give him strength. But the strain on his lungs was too much and he gasped as he reached the table.

  “I—” He shoved the card into the guy’s hand, his own fingers trembling. “I want to play—I mean, I want to pay for the cleaning of your—”

  A heavy thud tapped him between his shoulder blades and sent him off balance. He tipped forward…falling face first over his mate’s lap.

  Dex squealed and froze. He blinked and stared down at the floor, his mind taking a few moments to figure out how he’d gotten into this position—head down, ass up, perfect for spanking.

  He shivered. It had been a while since he’d been spanked. Micah wasn’t into it, and as smart and sexy as Reese was, he wasn’t powerful enough to top Dex.

  The hard cock pressing against his stomach told Dex his mate might be more interested than he’d thought. Resisting the urge to squirm against the guy’s hard-on, Dex stayed still, not sure how to get up without rubbing all over Maddock.

  “I’m sorry.” Reese’s voice rang through the air with a sincerity that Dex might have believed if he didn’t know the guy. “Guess they shouldn’t let a blind guy walk around all by himself, huh?”

  Dex held back a growl. He knew perfectly well Reese didn't need any help walking through the bar.

  Bastard. Reese had put him in the position on purpose. Now how did he get out of it gracefully? Maybe he should just wiggle his ass and tell Maddock to punish him like the bad boy he was. Dex giggled at the thought.

  “Excuse me,” Maddock said, his voice low and hard, rimmed with ice. “Are you going to stay there all night?”

  The anticipation exited Dex’s chest in a rush and he felt his cheeks warm.

  “Uh, no. Of course not.”

  Holding his chin high, and going for as much dignity as he could while draped over another man’s lap, Dex pushed himself upright, lifting his hips away first. He’d definitely felt a hard-on, but it was obviously meant for someone else.

  “Sorry,” he mumbled as he backed away, dropping his eyes to the ground. “Please send me the bill for cleaning your suit.”

  Without looking up, he spun away, punching Reese as he walked by.

  “Asshole,” he muttered.

  “I was only trying to help.”

  Dex kept his head down and stalked back to the bar, walking behind the counter and into the storeroom. His cheeks burned. What had Reese been thinking?

  He hid out until Micah walked in ten minutes later and glowered at him. Micah hated having to serve the tables. It meant he had to interact with people and he didn't like that.

  Grinding his teeth together to keep from whimpering, Dex washed his hands and headed back out. His mate and the woman were gone.

  Just as well, Dex thought. The guy clearly wasn't interested.

  If what Micah said was true, there was someone else out there, someone who would want him just as much. A perfect mate.

  Well, Micah hadn’t actually said all that, but Dex had to believe.

  He would just have to wait for Mister Right.

  The center of his chest ached and the wolf whined inside his brain. Damn. The wolf wanted its mate.

  * * * * *

  Dex took his phone between his fingers and spun it in a slow circle across the smooth polish of the dining room table.

  “Still hasn’t called?”

  Dex shook his head and looked up at Reese. “I mean, just the once, but he said he’d come by and he hasn’t.” He tapped the back of his cell which he’d kept faithfully charged since that night. “I just thought maybe he’d call if he couldn’t come.”

  “It’ll be okay, pup.” Reese sat down and put his arm around Dex’s shoulders. He was only a few years younger than Reese, but Reese was definitely the older brother type. He rocked against Dex.

  “Maddock’s a Welsh name, you know?’

  He could feel Reese’s smile. Dex didn’t know if Maddock was a descendant of the original Welsh wolves but he liked the coincidence that his mate was somehow connected to their same background.

  “I didn’t,” Reese murmured. “But I saw his aura and he seems like a basically honest guy. If he said he’d stop by, then he will.”

  “Really?”

  “Oh dear Lord, could you please stop whining about this?” Micah’s voice rang through the house the way only an Alpha’s could.

  He stepped into the dining room, his white T-shirt stretched tight across his massive chest.

  Damn, even with a mate on the horizon, he couldn’t help but admire Micah’s body. Perfectly lickable.

  But the irritated glint in Micah’s glare stopped any sexual thoughts Dex might have had. He could practically feel his wolf curl his tail between his legs. It was amazing that he didn’t whimper.

  “Listen, the guy will come by or he won’t. Sitting around here, spinning that phone like it was a top, isn’t going to change anything.”

  Dex lifted his head and glared back at Micah. If he wasn’t going to accept the role of Alpha then Dex didn’t have to give him that honor.

  “What the hell else am I supposed to do?”

  “I don’t know. Clean. Needlepoint. Fuck, go for a run. Just quit sitting here pining for some guy who’s probably a prick if you got to know him.”

  With that, Micah spun around and stalked back into the living room. Moments later the TV blared with some random football game.

  “Maybe he’s right,” Reese offered.

  “So I should just forget I ever saw the guy my wolf chose?”

  “No. But a run wouldn’t be a bad idea. It would burn up your energy and your wolf would probably love it.”

  Dex nodded. He didn’t shift often between full moons. His wolf was a fairly passive creature, but Dex still battled for control.

  “Come on. Go for a run.” Reese tapped his leg and Dex sighed. Might as well. Sitting around wasn’t doing him any good and he didn’t care for Micah’s suggestion that he “clean.”

  Deliberately leaving his phone on the kitchen table, Dex walked out the back door and down the path that led to the Pack’s hunting grounds. No, they weren’t officially a “pack,” but when they’d bought the place four months ago, they’d registered with the Pack Association, claiming the land as theirs. It gave them the power to defend and protect their property.
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  Though they actually owned only one plot—the farmhouse and surrounding lands—they’d registered the tiny forest and the plots of ground to the north and south. Werewolf packs didn’t live well in proximity to each other. This would give them some space if another wolf pack moved in.

  He followed the trail to a secluded spot they used to change. The trees were almost impenetrable and gave them a nice safe spot to make the shift.

  Dex stripped off his clothes and took a deep breath, calling his wolf forward. The animal stayed concealed. With a sigh, Dex called on the one image he knew would tempt his wolf—Maddock.

  The strong powerful muscles he imagined beneath that crisp business suit, the delicious scent that made him want to lick his mate from head to cock.

  The temptation seemed to be enough. His wolf roared forth. Pain shattered his bones and muscles. Dex ground his teeth and pushed through it. It only took seconds and he was there, his wolf form taking control.

  Dex knew he wasn’t a powerful wolf. The stronger the wolf personality, the more volatile the creature was. It translated into dominance in the pack.

  Dex almost had to force his wolf to reveal himself…except on full moons. Then he was at the mercy of the animal inside him.

  On the upside, it meant he mostly kept his human mind, even when in wolf form. The animal brain controlled the body, but Dex at least could ride along, observe. He’d met some wolves who had no memory at all once they shifted. He didn’t think he’d like that. Too many late-night-horror-show possibilities if you couldn’t remember what happened last night.

  Even when he took on his third form—something only descendants of the original Welsh pack could do—he was able to maintain some human presence. The thought of being a slobbering beast with no human control terrified him.

  The wolf trotted off, following his nose, exploring. Dex kept himself alert for anything human—hunters, farmers, vehicles.

  He lifted his head and sniffed the air. A car had passed this way recently.

  Dex’s human brain processed the smell and recognized the location. He was on the neighboring property. It had been for sale for months, even before they’d bought their property.