“About time.” Gee shook his head and wandered out of the store as quietly and unobtrusively as he’d entered. Unable to contemplate the mystery of his words, Patch focused on her Alpha, the remaining and immediate threat to her newfound happiness.
She wasn’t sure what she expected to see on his face—fury, punishment, apathy? But the male Wolf gave nothing away with his scent, body language, or expression as he leaned with casual grace against the rear door of the store. If anything, he looked harmless.
Since she knew he was anything but harmless, her hackles rose and her Wolf scrabbled with the instinct to come out, to protect, if need be with claws and teeth.
Kennedy, unaware of Wolf politics or pack rules, thrust out his hand toward the Alpha in human greeting. “Kennedy Laurie, former military, currently engaged to Patch. I’m guessing you’re the big boss based solely on the way she’s shaking like a leaf and growling at the back of her throat like an animal.”
Patch worked to control her beast, unaware she’d been grumbling, but not ashamed. The drive to protect a mate was something the Alpha should understand, considering his own mating.
Saja, twisted to see past the giant Alpha Wolf blocking her way, her blue-black braid falling over one shoulder. She considered Kennedy with obvious interest in her keen gaze, almost as if she’d found some new species of animal or bug. In Patch’s opinion, the woman was a ball of walking curiosity and looked at everything like it was on the other end of a microscope. Although she liked Ryker’s mate, she wasn’t sure how Saja’s penetrating gaze made her feel.
Wait. If Saja is with Drew….
Ryker cleared his throat, also managing to get in the front door without jangling the damned useless bell. The hairs on the back of Patch’s neck rose, and her Wolf peeked out. The animal wasn’t sure whether to feel safe, surrounded by members of her pack, or distrusting and cornered. The many years she’d been ignored piled up, weighing on her need to be accepted by them. Too many years of a submissive Wolf learning to stand on her own four feet added up to her being unsure she could depend on the family she knew instinctively she should have been able to rely on without hesitation.
Kennedy—not seeming torn in the least while Patch’s Wolf wavered between longings, hope, and fear—finished shaking Drew’s hand and turned to Ryker. “Kennedy Laurie,” he greeted, his smile easy and unflappable in the face of so many Wolves. Then again, perhaps he didn’t realize he’d been surrounded by creatures that could tear out his throat with little to no effort.
“Ryker,” the Enforcer said, but didn’t take the offered hand. He didn’t sneer, either, which Patch decided was a good sign.
After a second, Kennedy shrugged and used the arm to pull her close. He didn’t know it, but with him wrapped around her, she couldn’t change, couldn’t protect him if she needed to.
Not that either of the Dominant Wolves were giving off the vibe, since she’d calmed down enough to scent the air. The connection, the pack ties she’d felt snap around her when they’d cornered her in the woods, zinged to life. She bowed her head in a combination of pleasure at the binding of her pack and shame for her worries. She didn’t have to protect Kennedy, not from them.
Seeming to sense a change in her, Kennedy laced their fingers. “So, wolves, huh?” He still sounded too calm in the face of what should be alien and possibly a bit scary to his human mind.
Drew nodded, the motion ending in what was almost a shrug. “We need to introduce you to the pack if you’re planning to stick around. Also, I’m sure Patch mentioned that if you tell anyone our secrets, we’ll have to kill you.”
Kennedy’s jaw became firm. “But you won’t come between me and my mate.” It wasn’t a question.
Her dominant male shouldn’t challenge the Alpha. Digging her nails into his arm, she bit him for good measure. He didn’t respond, seeming to face off with the other men. When Kennedy dropped his gaze, he lost the dominance challenge—whether he knew it or not.
“No one would come between you and your mate,” Drew assured him. “But we need to establish a few rules.”
“I get it. You’re higher rank.”
Drew snorted. “A soldier. I like it.”
Ryker clapped a hand on Kennedy’s shoulder, and the men shared a look which seemed to speak volumes. Through her ties to Kennedy, through their mated bond, she’d come to know more of the injuries he’d suffered at the hands of war. Some of the wounds were still jagged, still marking him.
Some had healed, but slowly. The things he’d seen and done, though he wasn’t ready to talk about them, creating the man he’d become. They’d made him stronger, similar to putting a blade into the fire to temper the metal, but he seemed to sense the wounds from the burn rather than his own iron core of strength.
Which was okay. She saw it, and she’d show him he hadn’t been damaged by what he’d seen and done, how he’d come out of it more rather than less of a man. Turning, she stroked his chest and nipped his ear, unable to resist the pull to soothe her mate’s tumultuous feelings. He relaxed against her, one hand stroking her hair in a motion that left her Wolf grumbling in joy. He might be her dominant and mate, but she had the power to quiet him and love him. Together, she half-thought they could do almost anything.
The beat of his heart against her own slowed, soothing her on a soul-deep level, and he ignored their company to lean down and kiss her. What started as a gentle brush of his lips against hers turned hungry in seconds. He broke away and laid his forehead against hers, pleasing her when he breathed as raggedly as she did.
“I would never do a thing to endanger her. She’s mine to protect, and so are her secrets.” Even his voice sounded more tender when he spoke, reflecting the magic between them. He glanced up, ducking his head when he almost met Drew’s eyes. “Which means I’ll protect your secrets because they keep this fantastic creature safe.”
“That’s good enough for me.” Ryker collected Saja, moving toward the door.
Saja rolled her eyes and halted them both, spinning to face Patch. “This means another party. To invite him to the pack, right? Tasha and I will arrange everything. Don’t you worry about a thing.”
Ryker didn’t disagree with his mate, but he didn’t look thrilled either.
Drew nodded. “You’re one of us now, soldier. Welcome to the Black Hills.”
Soon, the pack members vacated the store, and Kennedy moved to the front, leaving her arms feeling empty. Silly that only moments away from his touch left her chilled, but their bond was new and her Wolf needed their mate.
To be honest, Patch craved him, too. He was rather irresistible, their man.
When he flipped the sign to closed and locked the door, she caught her breath and scampered to the rear door to lock it as well. She wasn’t surprised when her mate caught her from behind, tugging her skirt up around her waist so he could reach for her ass.
Neither was she stunned when he ripped off her underwear with one fast yank, shredding the fragile fabric. “I’m going to lose a fortune in undergarments at this rate.”
His smack resounded through the store, followed by her harsh breathing and soft sigh. “I didn’t give you permission to speak, Patch.”
She bowed her head, resting her forehead against the door as her palms flattened against the metal. Tugging her hips up, he entered her from behind, one long thrust of flesh against flesh.
As always, she was more than ready for his impalement, stretching to fit his thick length and groaning at the completion of having him inside her. His teeth clamping down on the tender spot between her shoulder and neck made her cry out, and he thrust again, pushing her hard against the cold door. “That means you’ll need to be punished, you know that, right?”
She didn’t answer—couldn’t, even if she had considered a rebellion to test him. She was too busy riding his length and shivering as she felt him both inside her pussy and embedded in her heart.
She’d never again feel alone and forgotten. She’d found home i
n the arms of her mate and again in the bosom of the pack she’d almost forsaken. But then she couldn’t think anything at all as her mate pounded into her and whispered again and again his litany of love. “Mine.”
She was his and he was hers. The submissive Wolf had claimed a Dominant.
And she’d be damned if she let him go.
~A LETTER FROM THE AUTHOR~
I had the great pleasure to be able to visit a couple different clubs over the years. What I saw wasn’t the stereotypical relationships so often conveyed in this sort of storytelling. I saw love. I saw fun. I saw exploration. I saw discovery.
I saw that the lifestyle could mean a lot of different things to a lot of different people—from experimenting with kink to a constant choice that frames the individual’s whole life and world. The most important thing I saw? A dom’s relationship with their submissive isn’t supposed to be just about toys and sex. The submissive submits because they know that the dominant party will take care of them and cherish that gift of trust.
For those I know living the lifestyle, hopefully I’ve managed to tell a story that reflects, if only a little, the kind of respect and trust I saw in your relationships.
*smooch*
-virg
www.virg-nelson.com
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Naming His Mate by M. Limoges
Chapter One
Mike Hadley adjusted his gun holstered on the belt at his waist and tugged his jacket over the weapon, concealing it from clear view. There wasn’t any doubt he’d incite a riot if he walked inside with his piece visible.
Coming here, to this place in the middle of nowhere, shouldn’t have troubled him. He’d stepped into shittier, more unstable situations than this hole-in-the-wall bar, but damn if a thread of apprehension didn’t prickle the length of his spine as he stood outside of the entrance. One small detail kept him from strolling into the establishment like he owned the place, and he sincerely hoped that minor detail stayed home tonight.
He rolled his neck from side to side in a bid to loosen the tension in his shoulders. With an air of confidence he didn’t quite feel, he pulled open the heavy steel door and strode inside the Den.
Thirty seconds was all it took for activity to grind to a screeching halt. The drawl of a country ballad playing on the music box in the far corner thumped through the stifling air. Weighted stare after weighted stare met his gaze head on as he scanned the bar’s occupants. Their open hostility battered at his senses.
He wasn’t welcome. That much was apparent, but he would deal with it. Despite a bar full of unfriendly locals, the absence of one in particular shaved off a degree of his unease.
Of course, his anxiety hardly mattered. As sheriff of the small town of Collins, South Dakota, it was his job to investigate a rash of disappearances over the last several weeks. Unfortunately, the trail had led him to the neighboring, inhospitable town and people of Los Lobos.
Collins’ residents had learned years ago they wouldn’t receive a kind welcome from the little settlement. Most went out of their way to avoid it altogether, which wasn’t hard since Los Lobos had no key access route from the main highway.
Mike tipped his hat in a semblance of greeting and ignored the crowd’s glares as he moved toward the bar. It surprised him how easy the throng of men and women parted, allowing him an unimpeded path. When he reached the bar, he slid onto a stool and placed his forearms on the wood-grained countertop.
Mirrors ran the length of the bar, giving him an unobstructed view of the patrons behind him and the exit on his right. He might have projected a carefree air, but the truth was his nerves were as strained as the wire of a hooked fishing line. Surely everyone in the bar perceived that as well.
In front of him, a bulky Native American man stood opposite the polished counter with his arms crossed over his chest. Sizing up his opponent, Mike reasoned he could take the big bastard, but he sincerely doubted his capability to fight an entire bar full of people with much success. Yeah, just as well. He had no desire to leave battered and bruised. In fact, he’d rather get this shit over with so he could go home, period.
“A cold beer would be great.”
The bartender’s dark-brown gaze narrowed a fraction. After a minute-long staring match, he reached beneath the counter, raked through a chest of ice, and lifted out a bottle. Twisting off the cap, he plunked the drink in the center of the bar between them, all but daring Mike to grab it.
However, he had no such compunction whatsoever. He hefted the bottle to his lips and downed half the contents then burped in appreciation. “Man, I’ve needed that all day.”
For a second, he swore the bartender’s lips twitched, but his pinpointed stare never wavered.
“I suppose this makes more sense.”
He had to strain to hear the low rumble of the barkeep’s voice. “What does?”
The large man lifted a shoulder. “Nothing.”
As Mike drank his beer, he watched as the patrons slowly slipped into a normal rhythm, continuing a steady clamor of conversation and activity. While they might exude indifference, he wasn’t fooled. They were aware of his every move, just as he was theirs.
“So….” He leaned against the counter. “If you haven’t guessed, this is a business call.”
The bartender snorted. “Figured as much.”
“I just have a few questions then I’ll be on my way.” He extended his hand for a shake. “I’m Mike Hadley, sheriff over in Collins.”
The large man glanced down at the offering with an impassive expression. Just when he concluded the bartender wouldn’t accept, the Native American grasped his hand with a firm shake.
“The name’s Gee.” He released Mike’s hand and leaned forward. “How about you just ask your questions then be on your way, all right?”
Fair enough. “I’m looking for a few men from Collins who’ve gone missing in the area.”
“Let me save you the breath.” Gee shook his head. “Not a soul has passed through here lately.”
“Figured as much.” He fed the man his own words. “You sure about that?”
“Positive.” A hard glint entered Gee’s gaze. “Our town’s tucked away from everything. We don’t get a lot of visitors through here, and if you haven’t guessed, we prefer it that way, Sheriff.”
“Yeah, I sort of gathered that.” It was obvious this was going nowhere fast.
Rather than push his luck, he slid off the barstool and downed the last swallow of his beer. He grabbed his wallet from his back pocket and dug out a ten and one of his business cards, placing the items in the center of the bar between them.
“If you have any information, give me a call, eh?”
Gee made no move to pick up the card. Instead, he grabbed the ten then the empty bottle, tossing it in the trash feet away with a clatter. Slipping the cash in his pocket, he tipped his head and moved on to the next patron at the bar.
Well, that could’ve gone worse. To hell with it, he would try again tomorrow. However, it would require an entirely different approach. Tonight though, he was damn tired and in need of sleep. He veered around people, making his way toward the exit. With one last look over his shoulder, he pushed open the door and slammed into a solid force.
He glanced around in surprise at the sizeable man blocking the exit. Anger simmered in the man’s narrowed, emerald gaze. Beneath a neatly trimmed beard, a muscle ticked along his jaw.
At that point, Mike wasn’t up for confrontation. Instead, he simply wanted to get the hell out of there. “You mind moving?”
Fury poured off the man in waves, and his nostrils flared, but he didn’t mutter a word. He stepped sideways and shoved past, their arms knocking into each other’s, as he strode inside the bar.
Asshole. Mike shook off his irritation and walked down the sidewalk to his patrol car. Another hour at the office then he could go home, collapse in his bed, and try to forget the uneventful night altogether.
***
When the vehicle rounded the bend and the high beams illuminated the long stretch of driveway, Damien balled his hands into fists at his side. Standing in a dense patch of trees off the side of the darkened ranch-style house, he willed his impatience to calm the hell down. Though the steady night’s breeze was chilling, his body still burned from the inside out.
As the car eased to a stop and the engine cut off, he growled low in his throat. He kept his gaze trained on the dark figure that stepped from the vehicle and ambled toward the backdoor. His steps blending with the silence of night, he stalked toward his target then seized the advantage of stealth.
With a burst of speed, he rushed forward and pinned the figure against the door, leaving the keys to dangle in the lock.
“What the hell did you think you were doing tonight?” His voice was as coarse as the gravel lining the drive.
At once, the tension drained out of his prey’s shoulders. “Fuck, don’t do that shit to me. You know I hate it.”
Damien affixed his fiercest glare in place and spun the human to face him. “I asked what the hell you thought you were doing tonight.”
The sheriff quirked a blond brow in challenge. “I heard you the first time. And to answer your question, it’s called work. You should try it sometime.”
For several heartbeats, he studied the man’s crystal-blue eyes and flushed, clean-shaven cheeks before he answered the need thrumming through his body. He weaved his fingers through the sheriff’s short hair and pulled his head closer to his own.
“You worried me, Mike,” he confessed in a rough whisper. Unable to bear their close proximity any longer, he fused their lips together and slid his tongue inside the welcoming heat of the other man’s mouth. He closed his eyes while he savored the spicy flavor.
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