Wolver's Reward

by Jacqueline Rhoades

  He paid the clerk for the night, stowed his gear in the room, left the truck in the lot, and took the bike. For two hours he rode through the streets seeing things he'd never seen before. His band never operated in the better parts of town, but his Alpha did. Charles had invited him several times over the years, but River had always refused. He could think of nothing better than the woods and fields that surrounded their village. He had no need to see the brick and mortar that lay beyond.

  Now he did. Not that he wanted to see what enticed his former Alpha and Mate away from the pack for short periods of time. No, that was over. What he was looking for was a better class and therefore, more profitable mark. He was a rogue now and that's how rogues earned their living. He hadn't forgotten his early lessons. He was good at those, too, but this time, there was no band to take it from him. There never would be, either.

  As far as he could see, the better part of the city wasn't better at all. Though the odors weren't as offensive, there were too many of them and the exhaust fumes were worse. The concrete and glass made the place feel cold. The noise bothered his ears, and the lights blotted out the night sky.

  He saw what he needed to see and thought about testing his rusty skills on a young and well-dressed couple making their way through an unguarded parking lot. Their gait was unsteady and he could smell the alcohol on them as they passed. They were easy prey, but he decided against it. Though it was several hours away, Alpha Goodman considered this city to be his turf and Ryker would rip River a new one if he got a whiff of what he'd done. The only prey those two believed in was the kind you could eat.

  Shit! Why did he care about Charles' or Ryker's fucking moral code? He was two blocks away when it hit him that their opinions no longer mattered. He pulled a U-turn in the middle of the block and sped back, but he was too late. He arrived at the parking lot just as driver's door closed. The anger boiled up inside him again until he thought he would explode with it.

  He needed to run, free and wild. He needed to run until his body burned off the madness, but the full moon was still a few days off. He felt her call, an insistent lover willing him to find the power within himself to follow her, but shifting wasn't something you could do in the middle of a city street. Instead, he followed his nose and let his innate memory system take him back to the motel by the shortest route which included two wrong turns onto one-way streets and one blind alley. His anger was somewhat abated by the reckless ride, but his room felt more like a cage.

  He took to the streets again, this time stopping two blocks away at a bar he'd passed earlier in the evening. Then, there had been six bikes parked in the small lot. Now, there were two dozen. Built like a wooden shed addition on the end of a short row of older brick storefronts, the place was long and narrow. It was decorated with peeling paint and a wide plate glass window that held two neon signs. One advertised a popular beer, the other said OPEN. River wondered how many times the window was broken before the owner came up with the idea of boarding over the window from the inside with plywood. To River, that plywood said welcome.

  River liked the taste of beer, and more than a time or two he'd sat with packmates tossing back tequila and lime around a fire, but like most wolvers, he didn't get drunk. Wolver metabolism ran too high and the alcohol burned out of the system too fast. It could be done, but it took a lot of booze in a short amount of time. River wasn't about to waste his hard-earned money on that when there were faster and more satisfying ways to burn off steam.

  He parked the Roadliner, and then circled the lot on foot, taking in the scent of each bike and its rider and committing it to memory. About half carried the scent of a female companion. He would try to avoid those riders if he could. His goal was to blow off steam, not embarrass some poor dumb fuck in front of his woman. He'd also avoid the owners of the three-wheelers parked in the handicapped spaces by the door. There was no fun in that.

  All eyes were on him when he entered through a door of cracked glass held together with a web of wire mesh between the layers. It was obviously a local place where few outsiders ventured. Halfway down, River found an open stool and ordered a beer on tap and two hamburgers, plain and rare.

  "Or whatever way the shit comes," he said at the bartender's blank stare.

  The guy was beefy with a belly that overhung his belt, but his arms looked powerful from years of tossing cases of beer and the kegs below the taps. He nodded at River's correction and bellowed the order to whoever was manning the small kitchen.

  "Two flat ones. No green."

  River tapped the bar and sauntered to the back of the place where no sign was needed to indicate the restrooms. The odor made it obvious. He found his mark at the third table back sitting with two other guys and a woman who looked as hard and worn as the old oak floor. The mark was big and old enough to show some wear, but young enough to take the bait.

  He finished his burgers, which were remarkably juicy for being well done, and half his beer before making his play. He turned on his stool. His smile traveled around the room to each of the women, noting that half of them looked pretty good while the other half made the oak faced woman look pretty good, too.

  "Which of you lovely ladies owns the Forty-eight in the parking lot?"

  "What's it to ya?" The big guy at the table asked.

  "Oh, I was just going to compliment them on their good taste. It's such a pretty little bike." River sounded innocent enough until he added. "For a fucking pussy."

  Actually, the bike was a pretty sweet looking ride, but Ryker had told him once that Harley owners tended to be touchy about anyone badmouthing the name of what they considered the god of motorcycles. He was disappointed when only the big guy and his two buddies stood up.

  River shrugged. "Although now that I think about it, most Harleys are. For fucking pussies, I mean."

  Four others rose to their feet. Now that was more like it.

  Wolvers weren't that much larger than their human cousins, but they were a helluva lot stronger and faster, and Ryker had seen to it that River had more training than most. In spite of the older wolver's prowess, River was almost ready to take Ryker to the mat. Ryker had said so himself.

  "If it weren't for that damned temper and that skinny ass of yours, you'd be ready to challenge my position in the pack. But until you lose the piss-assed attitude and gain the pounds, you'll be what you are."

  What he was, was a rogue pup whose mother hadn't cared enough to give him a real name. They both knew that physical maturity would bring him the bulk. Ryker must have finally figured out that the piss-assed attitude was all River had.

  The seven men coming at him were about to figure that out, too.

  Twenty minutes, one split lip, one torn ear, and one blackened eye later, River's anger was spent. Two of his opponents were down for the count, one was on his knees puking up a bellyful of burgers and beer, and the other four were exhausted and nursing more cuts and bruises than they'd probably seen in years. By the way one of them was holding his wrist to his chest, River thought the guy might have broken it when River spun away from the punch and he'd hit the edge of the bar instead. Too bad, so sad.

  The young wolver finished off the last of the beer from the only glass left upright and unbroken on the bar. He placed a few bills on the counter, enough to cover the breakage, and handed the baseball bat back to the bartender.

  "Sorry I had to take it away," he said, "But you need to be careful with that thing. You could kill somebody if you're not careful."

  "Who the hell are you?" the bartender asked.

  River shrugged. "A Yamaha lover."

  The scent of six more bikers struck him as he exited the bar. They dropped the stands on their bikes, all Harleys he noted, and six pairs of eyes moved to him in wary recognition. The leader nodded, wolver to wolver.

  He wasn't much older than River. Tall and lean, blond hair swept back from a clean shaven face, the wolver was a blue eyed Adonis who looked more college boy than biker. His boots looked new a
nd his leather jacket looked too stiff. The men flanking him looked more like the real thing; older, scuffed, and scarred. Behind them was another blond, this one built like the proverbial brick shithouse, big, muscle-bound, and square. His face was too pretty for his build and when River looked him over, he flexed his shoulders as if he had something to prove.

  Next to muscle man were two cubs, older than Dakota and Ranger, but not by much. Any bar but this one would have turned them away at the door. They were both working hard not to smile.

  "How's the beer?" Adonis asked and enough power rippled off him to prove he was an Alpha.

  River lowered his head enough to show respect for the Alpha's position, but not a half inch more.

  "It's beer. Burgers are good, though don't bother asking for rare."

  "You got a reason for being here?" the Alpha asked, like he was looking for a particular answer.

  "Nope, just stopped in to blow off a little steam." Whatever their game was, River wanted no part of it. "And now I'm headed out."

  "We're headed to a Chase," one of the cubs blurted. He bounced with excitement. "Alpha's got himself a Mate."

  River offered a congratulatory nod. "Good luck." Finding a Mate was a big deal for an Alpha. It solidified the pack and enabled pairs to breed.

  "Yeah, thanks," The Alpha accepted with a nod of his own. "We were supposed to meet someone here. One of our own," he added. "Is he in there?"

  "Nope, just some busted up bikers. Hope you find him, though." River started to move away when the Alpha called him back.

  "You're welcome to come with us."

  River kept moving. "Sorry, but I've got someplace else to be. Enjoy the party."

  Parties after a mating chase could last for days with plenty of food and music. Outside packs might be invited and under the full moon, unmated females would be hot and looking for company. What the hell, he had nothing better to do, but by the time he changed his mind, the wolvers had already entered the bar and he didn't want to look like he was begging.

  He pulled out the ramp and rolled the bike back on the truck as soon as he got back to the motel. Deciding it probably wasn't a good idea to spend the night so close to the bar in case some pissed off biker came looking for him, River stayed only long enough to shower and shave. His cuts and bruises were already healing, one of the advantages of being born wolver.

  He found the nearest Wal-Mart and parked between two monster RVs that were also parked for the night, he pushed the seat back to its limits. Laying his head back on the rest, River slept until the rising sun shining through the windshield awakened him.

  Chapter 2

  "It's making that sound again," Celia said from her seat in the back of the van. She readjusted the pillow beneath her, groaning a little to make everyone aware of how uncomfortable she was on the floor.

  "Told you we should have stopped at that gas station a ways back," Darla told the driver. She too, was on the floor because there were no seats in the back. The van was meant for cargo, not wolvers.

  "We didn't need gas," Arnold, the driver, reasoned.

  "Yeah, but it wouldn't have hurt to put some oil in. The light's on again."

  "The light wasn't on when we passed the station," Arnold argued.

  "It looks like we have two of them on now." Lawrence rose up on his knees to look over Arnold's shoulder. "What does it say?"

  "Check engine."

  "Yeah, like any of you would know how."

  "If you wanted a mechanic, Darla, you should have gone with Jude. Engines are his domain, not mine."

  "Margaret says I stay with Reb."

  "Rebecca," Lawrence corrected.

  "Becky," Rosemary quietly corrected from her seat by the back door. "I think I feel sick," she added.

  She'd been thinking she felt sick for three hundred miles, but no one paid much attention. Anything new or out of the ordinary made the timid wolver feel sick.

  The knocking of the engine continued.

  Reb/Rebecca/Becky sat quietly in the passenger seat, head bowed, fingers playing with a loose thread at the hem of her shirt. She ignored the constant corrections, as she always did, since her voice held no sway in the matter.

  It had always been this way. The pack functioned as a whole under her parent's guidance, but divided along lines of sex when it came to her name. She thought of them as Team Alpha and Team Mate with the males siding with her father who called her Rebecca and the females choosing her mother's Becky. Only Darla used the name she preferred, Reb for Rebel, a name she'd chosen for herself when she was ten and had done her best to live up to ever since.

  Reb wasn't feeling too rebellious now. What had seemed like a great idea months ago when this whole misadventure began, now felt like a sentence of life imprisonment where only death-do-you-part opened the cell door.

  She was on her way to be mated to an Alpha she'd only met once, one of three Alphas, actually, all of whom she'd only met once. She was rooting for Dennis to win this race for her hand, but only because he was young, and hot, and shared her father's dream of living a true wolver's life surrounded by nature. Her parents and their pack would never make it on their own, though that was another opinion no one cared to hear.

  "You mustn't worry, Becky," her mother assured her. "The magic of the Alpha's touch will make the mating rituals quite pleasant."

  Though she'd rather not think of 'mating rituals' when it came to her parents, if you had to be locked up in a mating of convenience, hot sex with the hot Alpha Dennis as a cellmate would at least make it bearable. And having her birth pack around her would help.

  Once over the shock of losing their homes to a shopping mall and eminent domain, the pack had embraced their Alpha's dream of purchasing land in the north woods and living out their lives in noble contemplation of the beauty and abundance of nature. The money received from the government as payment for their land was used to purchase more land where their dreams could be fulfilled. They talked about the 'adventure' constantly. They read piles of books on wilderness survival, sustainable living, and of course, the healthful benefits of getting back to nature, but Reb was pretty sure not one of them knew which end of the hammer drove the nail or how to take down a buck without getting skewered.

  Dennis would provide that knowledge. If they ever got to the wildlife preserve they'd agreed upon to hold the Chase. If Dennis won the Chase. If one of the others didn't beat him to it.

  Jeremy would be her second choice if she actually had one, which at this point, she didn't. He was young too, and not half bad looking, but he was a city wolver who wore suits and ties, and frankly, wasn't all that sexually appealing. He was too sleek and his hands were too soft, and he just didn't come close to the wolver of her dreams. Jeremy would take her away to live in the city, but he'd promised to make a huge investment in her father's back-to-nature experiment.

  And that's what all this was about. Money. Though no one would put it in such crass terms, Reb was selling herself to the highest bidders. And the highest bidder of all was the oldest of her three suitors. The Alpha Donavan was not her favorite, though she couldn't put her finger on why. He was strong, he was handsome, and just a little rough cut, which should have made him appealing, except he was at least as old as her mother. Her father thought Donavan would be a stabilizing influence for his high strung daughter. Her mother advised that age had its advantages and since her father was over twenty years her mother's senior, she knew whereof she spoke.

  There was just something about Donavan that made Reb leery, but not leery enough to protest, and she could have protested. Her parents had given her the right of approval and she'd rejected three others outright. Donavan was old, but he was also wealthy enough to do her pack the most good, so he remained in the running. Reb just had to keep her fingers crossed that age had slowed him down.

  So she'd made her bed, so to speak, and now she had to lie in it. Each of these Alphas was paying fifty thousand dollars for the chance to lie in it with her. Selling herse
lf? She supposed she was, but if, as an Alpha's daughter, she had to marry an Alpha and become a pack's Mate, her birth pack may as well benefit, too. It wasn't much, considering their numbers, but every penny would help as they embarked on their adventure and money was something her father rarely thought of until it was too late.

  The knock, knock, knock of the engine suddenly became a loud bang and the van rolled to a stop.

  "Fudge," Reb muttered.

  "Providence," Darla muttered behind her. Darla wasn't happy about this Chase or an arranged mating of any kind for Reb, but she hadn't voiced her opinion to anyone but Reb and she'd done it repeatedly.

  "You meet the right wolver. You and your wolf fall in love. Then and only then do you mate. That's the way it works and that's the way it supposed to work. Look at me. I'm holding out for the right wolver and when he comes along, I'll know it. In the meantime, I'm having some fun. You should be having fun, too."

  Darla was forty-five and still waiting, but Reb had to admit, the female knew how to have fun, even if she had to find a human male to have it. Everything Reb knew about sex she'd learned from her best friend and unofficial nursemaid.

  Reb would never say it, but Darla and the other pack females were another reason for this Chase to succeed. It was part of the bargain her father had made with each of the Alphas. Her mating came with the promise of more males for the Sweet Valley pack where females outnumbered them two to one.

  "What are we going to do?" Celia asked. "We're in the middle of nowhere."

  "I knew we should have stayed on the highway," Lawrence complained. "Where will we find help on a road like this?"

  "Then why didn't you say so before we got off," Arnold answered back. "You always know things after they happen."

  "Why bother? You never listen to a word I say."

  The two bickered like a long mated couple which, Reb thought, they were.

  "Here's what I think..." Celia began.

  The debate about what they should do continued for twenty minutes, and adjourned for five while they exited the van which was becoming stuffy with all the hot air. It started again and went on for another fifteen until Reb raised her hands in the air and yelled, "Stop!"