by Cecilia Lane
Then Becca showed back up in Bearden and he thought magic truly existed. That hope of repairing everything that’d gone wrong crashed and burned within days. The smoldering ruin had been an extra blow to his attitude for six, long months. He slipped back to his default of the last ten years. He worked himself into exhaustion, drank himself to sleep, and whispered his loneliness into the darkness. Nolan hated his empty bed, his bear hated him, and it was one thousand times worse knowing Becca was now always within ten miles of his location.
Darcy gave him another sad smile. “In my experience, women who say they don’t want to talk are looking for some sort of action.”
Nolan tightened his fingers around the bottle of his beer and imagined throttling the wolf across from his mate. “Already tried flowers a dozen times. She throws them away while not exactly looking at me.”
“Not flowers. Think bigger. Like proving an idea she has about you wrong.”
Fat chance of that. He bailed on her before and she wasn’t about to let him get close enough to prove he wouldn’t do it again. If he could go back and kick his younger self’s ass, he would. Fucking teenage dipshit didn’t know what he was losing when he was busy losing his shit.
Two tables down, Leah waved a hand for attention. “Hey, we’re heading over to The Roost. You two coming?”
“Sure thing.” Darcy nodded and cocked her head. “You want to go?”
Nolan took a pull of his beer. “You go have fun. I don’t want to sour anyone else’s night.” She reached for her wallet and he pushed it back into her purse. “My treat. You’re not half bad for a…” He paused, searching for the right word.
Darcy quirked an eyebrow at him. “Girl? Human? Human girl?”
He threw her a lopsided grin. “Friend of Rylee’s. You science folk can barely see beyond your coke-bottle glasses.”
“Let me out of here before I bore you to death with theories that will explode your mind. Did you know we’re probably in a simulation? Pretty shitty game, in my opinion.” She called over her shoulder. “Don’t forget what I said!”
That should have been the end of his night. He flagged down the server for his check and watched Darcy disappear with Callum and Leah. Cole and Rylee were preparing to follow.
He was alone. Again.
Becca laughed once more, and even Jacob cracked a smile. Nolan watched as the wolf reached across the table and brushed his hand across Becca’s.
His mate. His. His!
He was on his feet and moving toward them in a second. Grand gesture? The only thing he could think about at that moment was sinking his fangs into that wolf’s throat and pouring his lifeblood onto the wood floor.
“What do you think you’re doing, wolf?” He bared his teeth with a growl. Red colored his vision.
“You can’t be serious,” Becca muttered.
Nolan tucked those words into a mental pocket. She hadn’t said more to him in a month. He counted it as a win.
Jacob flicked a glance to Becca, then stared a challenge back at Nolan. “I’m just speaking with my friend.”
“Mine.” The word was rough around his growl. Inhuman. His bear shoved forward, seeking more control and lots of blood. “Hands off.”
Nolan didn’t trust the wolf. He came through for Cole when his clansman needed it and Cole insisted he was a good guy. Nolan wasn’t so sure. He’d spent too much time with hunters masquerading as military men. He said one thing and smelled entirely different. Jacob was a wildcard and still too fucking close to his mate.
Another growl entered the air. Conversation died around them. The fine hairs on the back of his neck rose at the threat.
Jacob’s eyes flashed gold. “Or what?”
Nolan snarled and tightened his hands into fists just as Jacob launched out of his seat.
They went down in a heap of punches and curses. Jacob caught him hard in the middle, but he gave right back with a crack of forehead against nose.
Arms wrapped around his middle and hauled him away from Jacob. “Back off! Back off right the fuck now!”
Nolan didn’t silence the uneasy noise that sawed out of him with his every breath. He wanted to taste blood, and he’d been pulled away too soon. His bear roared in his head and demanded more fighting.
Cole pointed a finger at him. Nolan resisted the urge to snap it off with his teeth. Barely.
“You can’t go fighting everyone who talks to her.”
Like hell he couldn’t.
Cole rounded on Jacob. “And you! No dirty tricks. This is a nice place. No one wants you spilling his guts on the floor.”
Jacob nodded and tapped his temple like a madman. “Nice place. No dirty tricks. Got it.”
Nolan scented the air and realized the person he fought for was gone.
Becca had disappeared during that madness.
Fucking fuck.
He opened his mouth to demand an answer, to go after her, to make her see that he needed her back in his life when a familiar beeping caught his ear.
First Cole’s, then the device on his belt. They were being summoned to the firehouse.
And just like that, the red-hot madness that sent him reeling and brawling was replaced with a cold, dispassionate sense of duty. Fires didn’t care for the rights and wrongs or hurt feelings. The lick of flames just wanted to consume. He was the line of defense to keep that from happening.
It was like that during summer. They were on call if they were in town. An extra team ordinarily wasn’t needed, but they’d rather be safe than see the entire mountainside burn up and threaten the town and surrounding ranches. And the week was proving to be unusually busy.
Cole turned and found Rylee in the gathered crowd. Some whispered words and a quick kiss were their farewells. Rylee’s face twisted into worry. Sorry, lady. That worry wouldn’t ever fade. What they did meant they risked death whenever they went into a blaze.
Nolan wondered if Becca ever felt that worry before he could kill the thought.
He needed a quiet mind and his bear didn’t fight him. The animal knew there was no room for argument when it came time to work.
He followed Cole and loaded into the man’s truck. Callum jumped into the back just as they pulled onto the road between The Roost and Hogshead. Then they were speeding toward the firehouse a handful of blocks away.
One lone probie waited for them in the middle of the bay, bouncing from foot to foot.
“The night crew is at a site near the southern territory edge. Forest fire, probably a campfire out of control. This call came from one of the ranches on the north side. Got a barn burning,” the man, barely old enough to go through training, said in a rush.
The others of the Strathorn clan materialized out of nowhere and they silently geared themselves out. Thick pants, heavy boots, protective jackets. Headgear, oxygen tanks. Load into their engine. Fire up the sirens. Rush out of town.
Fire shot high into the sky by the time they arrived. He was out of the engine first. Cole jumped down after him and grabbed him by the shoulders. A quick press of their foreheads brushed away the last bit of fight between them. Callum started shouting familiar orders.
These men were his brothers, his clan. Hell, he was sure they were taking Becca out to keep her out of trouble and keep him calm. He still hated seeing her with anyone else, but the evidence of fights with his clan faded fast.
Nolan sucked in a smoky breath. Quiet mind. Ready to put out a different fire than the one he’d let rage inside him earlier.
Chapter 3
Becca crossed off another job listing in the classified section. It was something to do while trying to keep her mind entirely off the shit show Hogshead turned into.
At least talking to Jacob hadn’t been so bad. Hurt like hell, opened the floodgates on her guilt, but she could see him relaxing bit by bit. Until Nolan stuck his stupid face into her business. He did not own her. She could see whoever she wanted. She didn’t need some stupid bear starting a brawl because she—gasp—had dri
nks with someone else.
Now that she thought about it, she was certain he was behind the utter dry spell of her social life. She’d had a few contenders for arm candy when she first got back on her feet, then those free drink tickets vanished into thin air. That fucker.
Becca crossed off another listing hard enough that the paper ripped under her pen. She growled at the tear and tried to read the next offering. Nolan was not going to ruin an already terrible day. She wouldn’t let him intrude on any other thoughts.
She slid a hand across the paper to straighten the mess she made. Three positions were already filled, and three others were work she didn’t want. Working for her sister in a coffee shop was preferable to cleaning horse stalls. Mug Shot wasn’t even her first coffee rodeo. She’d worked for chain cafes from coast to coast.
She turned the page to the comics and took a quick glance around the quiet shop. She had to pay attention to the customers, Faith said. The Old Maids—gossips, all three of them, and tough for elderly boar shifters—continued plotting whatever mischief they were attending to that week. Two teens snuggled together in another booth and didn’t look like they wanted to be disturbed.
She’d give them another ten minutes of handsy bullshit before she pasted on her biggest grin and plied them for pictures wearing the coffee shop’s infamous criminal props. She would enjoy seeing their hands fly onto the table and red spread across their cheeks when she shoved striped prisoner outfits at them and forced them to pose for a snapshot to hang with all the others that decorated the Mug Shot Most Wanted wall.
She had to give it to her sister. Faith knew how to work with a name.
Another customer huddled at a table by the door. Becca didn’t recognize her. Which was becoming less unusual by the day as more scientists poured into town and more shifters wanted to find a place to call home now that their existence was public knowledge.
Becca inhaled and sorted through the scents of the shop. Boars and bears and more fur, but with a hint of dirt baked in the sun. Big cat of some sort, she thought.
Kitty glanced up and pointed to the paper in front of her. “You looking for jobs, too?”
Becca smiled sourly at her paper, then twitched it closed. “I’m never getting out of here,” she muttered under her breath.
As far as jobs went, Mug Shot wasn’t so bad. She served coffee and ridiculously priced pastries to the people of Bearden. Junkies looking for their fix of caffeine and sweets. Faith wouldn’t let her call them that anymore.
And if someone else needed a job, like a mysterious feline pawing through the same classifieds she combed over, Becca felt it was her duty to hold the line and help. She could stay on as Faith’s right-hand bitch for another week.
“Like horses? There’s a stable hand needed by the lion pride,” she suggested. Maybe Kitty would want to be with her own people.
Kitty made a face. “Shoveling shit? Not unless there’s nothing else. I’m Mara, by the way.”
Old Miss, the leader of the Old Maids, made a noise like something caught in her throat. Becca rolled her eyes and joined Mara at her table. She could keep an eye on the counter and avoid the Old Maids clutching their pearls at voices louder than a whisper. “Becca. You’re new.”
“Just arrived last week, actually. I’m staying up the street at the bed and breakfast.”
“Muriel will treat you right. Best place to stay in town.” She peeked over at Mara’s paper and chewed on her lip. There really wasn’t much to recommend. Newspaper delivery, stable hand, Pierre’s needed a server but she wouldn’t suggest that to her worst enemy. The man was a terror about his fine dining, as if Bearden was a bistro with Eiffel Tower views.
“What about here?” Mara twirled a finger through the air. “I’ve got experience.”
“Don’t we all. I think it’s a requirement these days. Some countries have mandatory military service, we have coffee shops that need to be staffed.” Becca shrugged uncomfortably. She wanted out of Mug Shot on her terms. Being forced out by competition wasn’t an option. “You’d have to ask my sister. She owns the place.”
Relief in the form of a Strathorn came through the door and she sprang to her feet. “What can I get you, Cole?”
He caught her before she could make it around the counter. “Can we talk?”
He looked exhausted. She glanced at his shirt, then took a better look at him. Wrinkled clothes, with a smudge of soot on the side where he wiped his hand, and heavy eyes. Of course. The Strathorns were called to work soon after she melted out of Hogshead. That didn’t mean their day shift went away. Callum would rotate them out to give them all some time for sleep, but Cole wasn’t the lucky one.
Becca pressed her lips together. She thought she knew what was coming, and she didn’t want to talk about him. Not ever, but especially not that day. The gnawing pain was hard enough to handle on a regular basis, but anniversaries really dug in for the hurt. “Sure.”
Ten years to the day, she left Bearden. Ten years and three months, she lost her baby. Ten years and six months, she started to lose her mate.
She thought she could handle being back in Bearden and the rush of memories that came with it. Every day was proving her wrong.
What choice did she have? Be on the outside of the enclave again, now with the added bonus of the human population knowing about her kind? One slip up and she could have a target on her back. If she stayed in Bearden, she was simply one of the masses. But that meant seeing Nolan far too often.
She was losing it. Her mask of snark was going to slip any day. Already she was thinking too much, allowing too many memories and feelings to ruin her morning.
Becca’s fox whined in her head and then buried herself in a flash of bushy tail. There would be no support from her inner animal.
Becca jerked her chin for Cole to follow and slid into a booth as far from any other customer as she could manage. She felt cornered. No Faith meant she couldn’t leave the shop. Cole had her pinned down.
He tracked movement over her head and stayed quiet as Mara passed them to head to the restroom. Then his eyes snapped to Becca.
“You need to talk to Nolan.” He held up a hand before she could open her mouth and rushed over her words when she objected. “I don’t mean you need to accept him or forgive him or become best friends or fuck buddies. He’s dying inside, Becks. What happened between you two has been eating him up inside for ten fucking years.”
She pressed her hands to the table to stop them from shaking with her anger. “I’m sick and tired of hearing about poor Nolan. What about me? What about what he did to me?”
“We were all shit heads when you left. You included.” Cole frowned. “Have you tried telling him it’s over? Make it crystal clear you don’t choose him?”
Becca tongued her teeth and refused to meet Cole’s eyes. She hadn’t. Not in so many words. Every time she tried, her fox shoved past all her control and stole her words away. It was like she could see herself and hear herself speak, but the definitive words never reached her lips.
No matter how much she wanted to close that chapter of her life, the stupid inner beastie wouldn’t let her.
But she’d made her point without words. Definitely without words, since she refused to speak to him. She stayed in the same restaurants or bars because she had to, but she crossed the street to avoid him if she didn’t need to be polite.
“I don’t know why I need to keep rehashing—”
“Because you’re not dealing with it. Neither of you has dealt with it. You ran out of here like your hair was on fire and he’s been torn up ever since. It feels fresh because it still is.” Cole lowered his voice. “He’s part of my clan, Becks—”
“Don’t call me that. I’m not fifteen anymore,” she snapped with the righteous indignation worthy of her fifteen-year-old self. Woo, she was lashing out wherever she could. She’d feel embarrassed if she wasn’t burying the emotion as quickly as it appeared.
He ignored her. “You’re both h
urting. Callum is talking things over with Nolan, and I drew the short straw to risk my neck with you. Like I told Jacob, it helps to get this shit out in the open. Don’t let it fester inside. That goes for everything, not just Nolan.”
She jerked to attention, nostrils flaring with another dose of barely contained anger. Not only did she have Nolan to contend with, but Jacob was spreading her secrets. “What did he tell you?”
Cole’s face softened. “Enough to know you’re not in a good place. You know I’m here if you need to talk. Rylee, too.”
“Rylee knows?” Her voice didn’t rise above a whisper. She might as well print up flyers and hang them around town. Becca Holden, murderer. Possibly, but unlikely, done in self-defense. Definite coward. Will run at first sign of trouble.
“It doesn’t feel right keeping anything from her. She’s my mate.” Cole flashed too many teeth at her in warning. No one threatened his mate.
Becca twisted her hands together and didn’t meet his eyes. “You’re getting soft, Strathorn.”
Cole rubbed a hand over his head. “Blame Rylee. I think she injected emotions into me while I slept. I feel things now and it’s terrible. I don’t want to care about you fuckers.”
“Lies. You’ve always had a soft spot for the broken and bruised. Did Callum really send you, or are you here because you can’t let this rest?” Callum was alpha to the Strathorns, but Cole served as his second. And seconds were notorious caregivers, even if Cole tried to hide it behind tattoos and snarls. No wonder he’d been the one to take Jacob under his wing.
His grin didn’t give her any answer. “Just think about what I said. Might help you get all this craziness out of your systems. I’d love to go out at night and not have busted lips or broken bones to deal with. You’ve really disturbed the peace. Is your picture up on the wall of mug shots?”
“If you’re lucky, I’ll show you my real ones.” She stood and waved toward the counter. “Now, pay for something or get out of here. I’m on the clock.”
“Like that’s stopped you from slacking before.” Cole snorted. “Since I don’t trust you not to poison me right now, I’ll see you around.”