Until I Make You MINE (Wolves of Amrok Hollow)

by Jeanette Lynn

  He looked like a really menacing hamster. I almost laughed out loud at the sight of it but I knew better. Ansel absolutely hated being teased, much as he dished it out to me and Fynn, and I’d already poked the wolf once tonight. I had no idea why or where my thoughtfulness towards him came from—perhaps loyalty for all those times he’d played dolls with me and claimed he’d wanted to but I knew his mother was behind it—or why I honored it even now—lord knows he didn’t hold back with me.

  Brown eyes twinkling, I smiled at his scowl, knowing I’d gotten to him. Ah, to be young and ruthlessly mean again. I’m getting old. Those were the days. Thinking of his great bacon caper, my eyebrows shot up and my finger pointed. “You owe me bacon, asshole.”

  “Do I?” he murmured innocently. When his hands shot out and he made to snatch my container from me, I shoved it into my chest. The Styrofoam container gave with the force of it, mushing the remnants of my dinner into my breasts.

  Glancing down at the mess I’d just made, I let out a shocked gasp. Pulling the container away from me, my shoulders slumped. I didn’t know what came over me but I honest to god wanted to cry at the loss of the sugar overload stuffed waffles. “My food.” Those small, pitiful words came out almost a whimper.

  Ansel’s muffled laughter as he choked down the food in his great maw weren’t helping any. It subdued when my gaze lifted to meet his and he caught the moisture in my eyes. “Emmy,” he started to say softly, but I didn’t want his fucking pity. I kind of liked that he didn’t hold back with me, much as the male annoyed the shit out of me whenever he opened his damned mouth.

  “I hate you,” I whispered, glancing away and then back up at him with a forlorn look.

  Ansel’s brow beetled and he blinked. “No, you don’t.

  “I do.” I didn’t.

  “You don’t,” he repeated, eyes narrowing shrewdly, studying me. He was completely serious, like somehow I’d managed to offend him. Again.

  Glancing down at the mess I’d made, my face pinched. Awesome. Now I’m hot, sticky, sweet, all over my Def Leppard shirt. Oh, the irony.

  “I’m going to smell like this tomorrow, even after my shower. I just know it. Walk around smelling like a strawberry confection. Probably get eaten by Habold.”

  “Habold?” Ansel grunted, his expression puckering in confusion. “Who the fuck is Habold?” he barked suddenly.

  Blinking at that, my eyebrows shot up. “Uh... The llama we brought in last month. Guy’s got a nose on him. Eats anything even remotely sweet smelling.”

  “Oh.” Just like that, the wind whipping his sails was gone. Scratching at his chin, he grunted. “May you live to tell the tale,” he intoned gravely.

  Turning, walking to the trash bin, I dumped the remnants of my food. On my way back to the island counter I picked up one of momma’s wooden spoons from the jar near the stove, whacking the pack third on the upper part of his thigh with it.

  The tall, towering male yelped and spun around, gripping his bum like I’d smacked him one on his pert little ass. He fucking wished. Freak.

  “I didn’t hit you there.” I was already moving, lunging to put the counter between us. Grinning, I tapped the spoon on the counter loudly.

  “You mean my butt, Roly?” he taunted. Roly Poly, his childhood taunt. I’d been a rather rotund child, and his nickname reflected that. Sadly, our mothers thought it adorable and it stuck. Too bad mine, since I couldn’t quite pronounce his name right, hadn’t.

  “Is that what that was?” Tapping my cheek with the wooden spoon, I tsked. “I can’t say you could pay me to tap that. Sorry, Ans-hole, but it’s quite a large target, and I wasn’t aimin’ for it. You must be mistaken.”

  Ansel paused and his lips parted. A bark of a laugh left him. “Emersyn Warhola, did you just say I have a big ass?”

  Smirking, I tapped the spoon into the palm of my hand. “If the butt bubbles...”

  And that was how my mother walked into the kitchen, Ansel guffawing, holding his belly, though his cheeks were flushed with a hint of embarrassment, my light brown eyes dancing as I grinned cheekily.

  Mom smiled warmly as she stepped up to the counter. “Glad to see y’all getting along and not trying to kill each other.” Eyeing the spoon in my hand, Mom plucked it from my grasp. “What has you all merry like this?” After a moment, she paused, her smile wavering, hazel eyes darting between us, though she tried to hold it in place. “Do I want to ask?”

  “Probably not,” Dad chimed in, joining Mom.

  I was surprised to find Eldritch standing off to the side behind them, leaning against the door jamb, the swinging door pressing into his back. His lean frame fell against the jamb in a relaxed pose, but I knew better. Eldritch was cool, composed, steady as she goes, but the man was anything but relaxed.

  “Emmy was trying to beat me with a spoon.” Ansel sobered, staring at me. The ball was in my court, the asshole was just waiting for my reaction.

  “It’s too true,” I surprised him by admitting. “I was.”

  Walking past everyone, my hands lowered to expose the mashed cream cheese smearing my chest. If one didn’t know what it was, they’d assume the almost transparent material was... something else. Something else white and creamy and sticky looking. Cough-cough. Eyeing my shirt disgustedly, I held it out and away from me. “Backfired, though,” I added, making my way past everyone, “he really, really liked it.

  Stealing a peek at Ansel as I passed Eldritch, the Alpha’s lips twitching with a hint of amusement, I watched the pack third’s eyes bulge, his dark brown eyes darting from me, my shirt, to my parents, who were standing there blinking rapidly, eyeing the male.

  “She- I didn’t- Emmy!” Ansel called, but I was already rushing past the dining room, headed to my bedroom.

  “I’m not- We didn’t- Wouldn’t- I wouldn’t dare to- Emmy!”

  Muffling a chortle, slipping inside my room, I listened for a moment and then shut the door firmly behind me. Ansel’s voice still carried.

  “Waffles. Cream cheese. Strawberries- That’s not- She was- Gah. That’s not funny... Eld, stop laughing so hard. I- Noah, Dara-Lee Ann- EMMY!”

  Slipping my shirt off to chuck it into my dirty clothes hamper, I nabbed a clean one out of my laundry pile and made my way into my bathroom. Humming as I readied the shower, his sputtering, helpless bellows were music to my ears. Payback is a biatch, I singsonged in my head.

  Chapter Three

  This was a bad idea. My gut was churning. I was swimming with nerves, drowning in the anxious chaos.

  A mixer. That’s what the council had agreed on when they’d decided to accept my mate help request. A freaking mixer? Mate matchmaking was apparently not necessarily their purview anymore, the progressive louts. Honestly, I had to agree with Dad, who mentioned the council probably feared backlash if word got out they’d set up an arranged anything for anyone. Aw, these modern times we live in, and, oh, how fast that gossip train of misinformation gets-a-movin’ and the mob gathers. I couldn’t say I blamed them. While my situation was a far cry from the days of old, and consensual, the potential shit storm it could create simply wasn’t worth the trouble. Ironic, considering many of the things the pack still openly embraced from their older than dirt shifter roots.

  So here I was, in a nice pair of dress slacks and a cute button up blouse in a pretty plum color, my shoulder length hair in something other than a quick, slicked back, tidy bun atop my head to keep my hair out of my face, my feet pinching in these stupid tiny heeled shoes, wondering just what the fuck I was doing here. Scrubbing my hands up and down my arms to ward of the gooseflesh threatening to pebble my dark skin, I felt like a putz just standing here.

  My fingers ached from gripping the chair I was standing in front of like a shield. I’d finally pried them open long enough to clamp them down on my elbows, but the urge to grab the chair again was strong. My brown skin looked pale white around my knuckles and fingertips, I was grabbing my arms so tight. I’m gonna leave a damne
d bruise. My face felt flushed one moment and drained of all color the next. Did they all know why I was here?

  Jesus, of course they did. We were all here for the same damned reason. My cheeks heated until they hurt. I was vacillating between gonna puke on the inside to get me the fuck out of here, on the outside, heat staining my cheeks harder as I swallowed hard.

  There was a crowd about, and to my mortification more than one person had come up to idly chat, not to introduce themselves or hey hello me but to talk about my setting this whole thing up, as Eldritch had not so helpfully told everyone at the last pack meeting. Lord help me. My gaze dropped to the shoes pinching my feet. I was a comfort shoes kind of gal. These contraptions were going to be the death of me. I made a note to burn them after this whole thing was done and over.

  The food was great, I could praise this event in that aspect, catered by Hanky’s, Aaron working the event alongside Kel, Marin, Devlin, Rach, and Hanky himself, and the music had at least a dozen partygoers shaking it out on the makeshift dance floor, but for me, in the meet a potential mate department, total bust. I dance, but not when I know anyone is watching, and I was too nervous to eat more than a few nibbles of a few tasty bits I’d picked from the buffet table.

  Fynn, who had promised to be here, had all but ditched me. Work, he’d claimed, but I had a niggle of a feeling there was a bit more to it. Ansel, working the event, was circling the room like a panther about to pounce. More than one eager lady wolf had approached him. For what, god only knew. No, I knew. Shut up, Em.

  I’d made it a bit of a game watching the pack third, betting to myself which one he’d ultimately pick for his next belt notch. Asshole seemed rather glowing-eyed this mate looking centric eve, his wolf in his peripherals, his trademark scowl all the ladies seemed to think lent him some kind of dangerous air—or so I’d overhead two chicks giggle and titter amongst themselves in line at the supermarket one rainy day, of which I didn’t quite understand myself a bit—his mug was more pressed and pinched than usual.

  Honestly, I’d thought to myself more than once the wolf needed to lighten up a little, then regretted it when I told Fynn, who’d taunt his brother with this as if it was his idea, and he did. Ansel lightening up meant Ansel picking on Fynn or me. That was the only time I saw the perpetually scowling grump crack a grin. Ansel had a nice smile, when he actually smiled, I noted, then dismissed the observation as shewolf number nine... ten? I’d lost count- approached him.

  It occurred to me, as I stood there gripping my chair again, my death grip slowly easing as Ansel’s seeming discomfort with all the sudden attention grew, that these females were assuming he was there not to work the event but to find himself a wolf honey. Prying one of my hands from my chair, I pressed it to my lips, desperate to cover up one of my godawful snort laughs.

  “You know, if you weren’t scowling so much, perhaps you wouldn’t scare all the timid ones off,” a voice said as a male approached, sidling up until he was right near my ear.

  “Perhaps I don’t wish to draw the weak ones in,” I murmured thoughtfully, daring a glance over my shoulder, giving Rowdy a long, measuring look.

  Pulling back, throwing his hands up, the pack second grinned and stepped away from the glowering shewolf eyeing him evenly. Dark, hazel eyes twinkled, his sun kissed brown face pulling into a craggy smile. “What say you dance with a real wolf, then?”

  “I’m not here for fun. Least of all with you.” Starting at my words, how utterly obtuse they sounded, I blanched. I’m here to enjoy myself and hopefully find a mate, to actually mingle. Yet... I was treating this whole thing like a work obligation or a doctor’s appointment. Wincing at the truth of it, I sighed, the sound long and loud.

  “Who says I’m not here lookin’ for a mate?” Rowdy chuckled, stepping up beside me until we were shoulder to shoulder. Rowdy was a big guy, broad shouldered and thickly built, but no taller than me. I believe he was actually just a smidge shorter. His dark blonde hair was getting darker with age, almost a light brown now. A hint of grey peeked through, making me wonder just how much of a mad scientist he’d look like with his wild, messy mop of hair when his hair finally gave away to wizard white like his daddy’s had.

  “Makes sense. You are getting old.” Now, Rowdy could handle a tease. That was the man’s language.

  He grinned as I poked at him. Then, leaning in, he literally poked me, reaching out a finger to pop me once, sharply, in my side. “Maybe I’ll find me some mean little cuss like you and sweet talk her into popping out some cubs.”

  “Rowdy, Rowdy, Rowdy, don’t you know, darlin’? You just ain’t the matin’ kind.”

  Rowdy grinned so wide I thought his face might split. “Ain’t that the truth.”

  Standing there in companionable silence as we watched folks shuffle onto the dance floor and feign pleasantries, I stole a peek at the male. “Why are you really here?” I wondered aloud.

  “Working the event.” Broad shoulders lifted in a shrug.

  “How many of you have they got on it tonight?” I thought to ask, counting five enforcers present.

  “Half a dozen. You know how these things can get.”

  No, I didn’t. In fact, this was actually the first event of this sort I’d ever attended. Between working at the animal sanctuary and the part time, seasonal job at the plant, I ate, slept, attended mandatory pack or parentally blackmailed into stuff only, and aside from meetups with Fynn or family functions, my favorite pastime was trying to catch up on sleep or taking on the odd side job.

  I had enough money saved up now to float me for a while so I could finally afford some time off to concentrate on getting some vocational training under my belt, apply to be a vet tech, see about volunteering for the local animal rescue. I supposed I should slow down a bit now, and what with the sanctuary closing down for their big relocation soon and my season just ending at the plant. Life was just passing me by, I realized. Watching the people out over the crowd, it hit me pretty hard.

  “I’m gonna go get some fresh air,” I said to no one in particular. My feet were moving before I’d even finished talking. No one approached me, though several females in attendance smiled and nodded as I strode past. The looks they slid my way were just short of sly. I didn’t get why. I was feeling a bit like there was an off limits sign on my ass but I didn’t know what I’d done to deserve it. A cursory sniff of my person said I smelled as one should. A peek at my reflection in the window I passed showed no sign I had anything weird going on with my face... A heart shaped face looked back at me, large but not too large eyes framed with dark lashes, a strong chin with a slight point, clear skin, bright eyes, my curly hair brushing my shoulders perfectly primped, not a curl out of place. I looked good. What gives?!

  The air was cool as I stepped out. My skin prickled as it tromped across the back lawn, headed for a stone bench in the Zen, find thy inner peace this-a-way, looking garden setup the hotel had going on.

  Thick shrubs sectioned off areas almost like a maze. Headed to the area on my right, a naked cherub fountain with a little cupid guy relieving himself into an open clam shell greeted me, much to my amusement, set up along the far end of the garden. Surrounded by thorny rose bushes, red rose buds surrounding the little clam waterer, I couldn’t help but laugh at that ridiculousness. Plopping down onto the bench, ignoring the cold stone threatening to freeze my bum, I set my elbows on my knees, my chin in my hands.

  I knew the moment he approached. I just always knew. I could sense him like my wolf picked up on incoming storms.

  I had no idea how long I’d been sitting out here, the slight chill in the air as one season tried to hold on desperately while another took their turn leaving my skin cold and kinda damp. Eyeing me, he stood there off to the side, steady, quiet.

  “Is it me?” I blurted. “Or am I just surrounded by pretentious assholes?”

  “Bit of both.” Moving closer, Ansel stopped right before me. He was wearing dark denims, black boots, black t shirt stretched a
cross his wide chest, and that older than dirt Pendleton I could clearly recall him living in since back in his high school days. Did the man ever throw anything out? Lifting my hand, reaching out, I tugged one of the cuffs of the faded blue and grey, lined plaid jacket, and jerked it. “Can’t believe you still have this thing. I’m surprised it hasn’t fallen apart.”

  “I’m surprised you noticed.” Eyeing me, he grunted.

  Scooting along the bench, I made room for him. “Hiding out from all those limber shewolves ready to Gumby themselves for ya, huh?” I gave the space next to me on the bench a pat. “Don’t worry your pretty little head any, honey, the mean ol’ spinster wolf next door will protect you.”

  “You aren’t even a lick afraid of me, are you?” Ansel’s face split into one of his rare, wide grins.

  Scowling, face morphing until I was squinting up at him, I couldn’t make heads nor tails of the male. “Are you implying I should be, big guy?” Had I ever truly feared him? Not to my recollection.

  “It’s there, you know,” he tapped the corner of his eye as he glanced over his shoulder, as if to make sure he didn’t have any level five clingers lurking, ready to try and latch on. “In the eyes. When people approach, it’s there, doesn’t matter how hard they bluff. That fear...” he trailed off.

  “Lucky you, finding the one woman who isn’t interested in jumping on ya like a hot cake in the name of that thrill seeking whatever you call it.”

  “They don’t really want me. It’s...” The wolf winced. “It’s complicated.”

  My lips pulled into a fake pout and I reached out to pat his hand sympathetically. “You poor, oversexed wolf, you.”

  “Are you always this much of a dick or am I just on your radar tonight? If I didn’t know better, Roly, I’d think you were jealous of all the attention I was getting.”

  “Don’t flatter yourself, Asshole. I suppose I’m always this much of a shrew,” I admitted, unabashed, because it was the damned truth. “Sorry.” My shoulders lifted in a helpless shrug. My expression implied I wasn’t sorry in the least.