Until I Make You MINE (Wolves of Amrok Hollow)

by Jeanette Lynn

  Feeling that you’re being watched, chick, sense, I jerked my head in the direction of that eyes boring into my back sensation pricking at me. Eldritch stood leaning against a tree near the area I’d spotted Ansel, wolf eyes watching. In fancier duds than anyone present, he looked sorely out of place amongst us. Arms folded over his chest, his gaze surveyed the area as if looking for someone or something. I watched him for several circuits around the open clearing. Every pass they landed on me, and every pass they lingered, until he spotted me spying him watching me.

  Growing annoyed, and rather confused, I glared daggers at him for the longest moment, knowing he was intentionally avoiding my gaze now. Dismissing him with a loud sniff, I got in line for popcorn. What the hell had I done to him to get on his damned watch list?

  Ansel. He knew. Duh. Fuck.

  Taking a deep breath, I dug deep for calm and cleared my expression. Spotting Mom just ahead in line with Dad, I whistled, catching their attention, and pointed to myself. “Gotcha, honey. You get the blankets,” Mom called, tossing me a thumbs up as Dad lifted his car keys and chucked them at me. Nodding, catching the keys, I took off toward the makeshift parking area.

  Chapter Seven

  I’d just settled down into my self-proclaimed spot as the movie started, having locked up Dad’s car, met my parents halfway back, exchanged goods to part ways, and found myself a neat spot overlooking the small lake, a prime position to witness Fynn’s shenanigans and the movie. Adjusting my hoodie, popcorn in my lap, sat cross legged on my blanket, ready to get my William Peterson and Benchley book turned movie on, I was two fistfuls of buttery goodness crammed into my maw when my skin prickled. Not the nice prickle but the sum bitch watchin’ me kind.

  “It’s not polite to stare,” I grumbled, shoulders tensing.

  “I was debating,” Eldritch said evenly. His voice came across smooth, deep. Mom claimed it had a soothing quality to it, but I’d always felt put up on my toes.

  Feigning interest in the movie, I popped a few more pieces of popcorn into my mouth and chewed. “On what?” I said after I’d swallowed, then popped a few more butter dripped, popped kernels into my mouth.

  “Whether to just join or seek permission,” he said quietly.

  “Free country,” I said with a shrug, but I wanted him to turn around and go sit elsewhere.

  “You’re rather transparent, you realize,” he said with a chuckle, walking over a short distance away to lay his jacket out and sit. He had on a nice pair of dark slacks that didn’t really go with the whole lazy river scene, a thick knit sweater hugging his lean frame. Eldritch had quiet strength. He radiated the Alpha schmooze like he breathed air.

  It was no secret Alphas didn’t always get along, but some, like Eldritch, with the faux put you at ease, lackadaisical, Mr. Chill shit meshing in a strange mish mash with his I’m the boss, do as I say, worked for him, and his harmonious, bossy boots down the line wolves in his pack. It always made me feel nauseous. I’d never admitted it to anyone, never dared to voice my unease out loud, but his devil may care hitting me, followed by the I am supreme being rays, made me want to claw his face off. There. Admission done. I could go on pretending otherwise now.

  “You don’t like me much,” he mused, curling his legs up to rest his forearms on his knees in a relaxed pose.

  “Those words never came out of my mouth.”

  “Of course they haven’t.” Arms falling, he set them behind him, leaning back against them. With an insolent look at the movie, he lifted his chin. “I’m the Alpha.”

  Eyeing him, my mouth was opening to respond, but then he’d spoken again. I couldn’t help it, I burst out laughing. “You’re not full of yourself, are you?” I chortled, burying my face in the crook of my arm to save myself from the shit storm I was probably creating as we spoke.

  When he didn’t sound like he was going to tear my throat out, I peeked up to find him studying me, his head tilted, eyes bright. “You’re not afraid of me at all, are you? Not even a little.”

  What was there to be afraid of? The man was mostly show. I was sure he could back his shit up, but I wasn’t lacking the confidence or stubborn will to think for one second I couldn’t either.

  “You surprise me. The way others speak of you, and from our limited interactions, I’d just assumed... I mean, I can sense it, the Alpha in you. You wear it like a cloak. It’s thick around you but...” Shaking his head, frowning thoughtfully, he chuffed out a huff. His hand lifted and it rolled on his wrist. He was searching for the words. “You struck me as... as...” His hand waved in the air searchingly.

  “Less than? Weak?” I guessed. Whatever. Turning back to the movie, I pretended he wasn’t there. How about reserved, or quiet. I was the farthest thing from shy there was, and weak? He could suck my ass.

  The sound of packaging crinkling pricked my ears, the smell of licorice following. When he offered me some, I declined. I hated licorice. “No, thank you.”

  He bit off a piece of the red rope candy and chewed. “You realize what you’re doing, don’t you?” he said into the silence that followed.

  “Hmm?” Sparing him a brief glance, I stopped mid-chew of my second to last handful left of popcorn to find him leaning in to sniff in my general direction.

  Spotting me watching him, he smiled in a way I didn’t like, unease creeping up my spine. He made no move to back the hell up. When he remained that way, I let my displeasure known. I didn’t give a shit who he thought he was—Alpha or what the fuck ever—get out of my personal space, sir! A growl rumbled my chest warningly and my eyes flashed.

  When his smile widened and he acted as if he meant to lean in even closer, I pushed my feelings into my growl, glaring at him with the force of my ire.

  Eldritch blinked and frowned, a befuddled look on his face as he jerked back.

  “I know,” I muttered before he forced himself to admit it. “My parents had the same struggle.” Shifting uncomfortably, I went on, “It’s not a big deal. You’ve got nothing to worry about, if that’s where your thoughts are headed.” Scratching at my jaw, peeking at him unobtrusively to find him frowning at me curiously, I shrugged. “I have no designs on the pack.”

  “But you could be, easily. You just subdued me without so much as a look,” he blurted. It was his turn to shift awkwardly.

  “Nah. No, thanks.” Pulling my hoodie over my head, tugging at the ties, effectively shutting him out of my field of vision, I hunched. Curling my legs up to rest my chin on my bent knees, I tried to focus on the movie. “It’s not the power of the will, but how you choose to use it. I promised myself a long time ago never to use my super powers for evil or good and just enjoy my fucking life on my terms. I’m not cut out for any of that shit. I like peace and solitude. Best decision I ever made.”

  “Your parents never told me of this,” he said suddenly.

  “I told them not to.” Then I’d promptly told them to forget about me commanding them. All of it. Their crazy with the Alpha bullshit coming off of me. I hid it decently well, and my natural standoffishness, my skittish ass, helped. That was the one and only time I’d ever commanded anyone to do anything, and I lived with the guilt of it every day. But this was my life, and I was going to live it on my terms, not on some Alpha mumbo jumbo bullshit I was born with. Full-fledged pack bologna was the farthest thing from my mind. And if they’d told Eldritch, I’d have been on his radar as a potential mate or upper ranking pack lackey member. I shuddered at the thought.

  “Did Ansel know?” Eldritch stretched his legs out, his tasseled loafers tipping towards the sky.

  “Not that I’ve ever been aware of. If he knew, he kept it to himself.” Feeling the need to say something else, I grumbled out, “I hide it pretty well.”

  “No shit,” he muttered, his package crinkling as he grabbed another licorice.

  Grabbing up another handful of popcorn, I chuckled.

  “You knew you were Ansel’s mate and worried I’d separate you two?” he guessed. />
  “I had no idea that bastard was mine,” I stated bluntly. “But I can’t say I’d have been keen if you’d tried to score me for a mate, or pawn me off on someone else you could easily manipulate, and solely based on bullshit Alpha vibes? Wouldn’t have happened.”

  When he looked like he was going to try and argue some obtuse point, I held up a hand. “Don’t try to tell me you could have coerced me into it, worked me up to it, shown me whatever. As I’ve just proven, your shit doesn’t work on me, and I’m obviously not that easy to impress. And that shit should be banned, you ask me.”

  “I wouldn’t have forced you,” he said defensively.

  “You’d have had to.” There was no other way it would have worked. “And then I’d have murdered you and taken your place as Alpha, and the pack would go to shit. So, all in all, yay us on never having to cross that bridge, eh?”

  “You’re an interesting beast. Has anyone ever told you that?”

  “Have you met Ansel?” I prompted. “What doesn’t the male say?” We glanced at each other then and grinned. It was an odd moment of mutual amusement, but then a growl sounded from somewhere in the woods. Ansel! That ass was still out here?! Grr. Was he stupid? What was I saying? Asshole was a bloody idiot!

  Eldritch’s smile fell and he glanced up sharply. “Did you hear that?”

  “Hear.” Cough. “What?” Cough. “Oh my god!” I called out loudly, then fake-coughed louder, until my throat burned. Giving myself a headache pretending to choke on popcorn loud enough and long enough to hide Ansel’s dumbassed growls, I sat up, smacking myself on the chest. Turning away from Eldritch as he came forward, watching me, asking repeatedly if I was alright as I waved him off, I glared in the direction I’d heard Asshole’s growl coming from, mouthing, Fuck off! Right now! hoping he could see me and read these lips. “Need a drink,” I wheezed, “popcorn.” Snatching my blanket up and rushing off, leaving my popcorn carton behind, I ditched my damned movie to go hideout next to the car.

  Fucking Ansel, I thought with a snarl, sprawled out on Dad’s car’s hood, watching the starry night sky as I listened to one of my favorite movies ever. He was going to pay for this. Oh, yes, he was.

  Chapter Eight

  It was late. Propped up on the pillows on my bed, comfy, soft cotton jammies on, a certain Kung Fu Panda doing cool moves across the green print, I tapped my foot to the song stuck in my head as I read. My books were all neatly lined along the top of my dresser, the coffee cans full of change on either end of my collection serving as bookends. I was so engrossed in my read, I didn’t register the noise at first.

  Pausing at the sound of leaves crackling underfoot, an ominous creak like metal bending, followed by a thunk, had me marking my place with a hairpin, sitting up, sliding off the bed, to slink my way to the open window. Peering out, I blinked, staring at Ansel as he dusted himself off, picking himself up off the ground, and, eyeing the tree near my bedroom window on the second story, began to scale it. The man was like a monkey, practically running up the thing. It was when he reached the top, eyeing the too thin branch leading to the roof, that he found himself struggling.

  “What the hell are you doing?” I whispered, staring at him, wide-eyed.

  “What’s it look like I’m doing? Hold on. Here.” Situating himself along the fatter branches, he pulled something out of the back of his pants and chucked it at me. Catching it, I stared at the packet of Sweet Heat Skittles. My absolute favorite. They rattled around as I tilted the package this way and that in my hands.

  “They’re warm. You had these crammed down the ass of your pants,” I pointed out, eyeing the bag uncertainly. Nope. I was still gonna eat them. It was a big bag and it was still sealed. Butt Skittles. Yum. What was a little booty sweat on the packaging?

  “I’m wearing underwear,” he grunted out, giving the puny branch he was eyeing a test jiggle. The branch swayed hard.

  “You can’t do it. It’ll give under your weight and you’ll tumble to your death, break your fool neck.”

  Ansel paused and glanced my way. Wolf eyes glinted in the night. “You sayin’ you’ll miss me, Roly?”

  “I’m sayin’ you’ll be dead, tryna climb into my window and failing, being a dumbass, and I’ll be suspect number one if they decide there was foul play, pocket pooch.”

  “Love it when you talk dirty to me. I miss this. Foreplay,” he said with a smirk.

  My cheeks heated and I fidgeted awkwardly. “You’d know, right?”

  Ansel’s head shot up and he blinked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I dunno, manwhore.” I fidgeted harder. “You tell me.”

  “Did you know my uncle thought I must be into dudes,” he said suddenly. “I was showing zero interest in the opposite sex. He’d wondered at it. My mom’s sister, Aunt Calpernia, you remember her?”

  I nodded, my eyebrows kissing my hairline, thinking of all his feminine conquests. Did uncle dear live under a friggin’ rock? Asshole had a reputation as a walking hard-on around these here parts. Mr. Date N Dump. His list of one and done’s was impressive.

  “She tried to set me up, on his suggestion, with one of her Bridge lady’s grandsons. Cool dude, awkward day. We’ve kept in touch throughout the years. He lives two towns over. Invited me to his wedding last year. Nice guy. Beaver shifter—his mate, not Martin. Nice wedding. Beach themed. The cake had strawberries or some shit in it between the vanilla. You like strawberries, Roly?”

  “Martin was a wolf? Sounds nice. I prefer raspberries, personally.” I was surprised I could follow along with his chaotic rambling so easily, but Ansel and I, or at least we used to, on the rare occasion we weren’t bickering or picking on each other, had that rhythm, timing, whatever you called it, thing. Cadence? We jumped into tune with each other. For the most part I had it with Fynn too, but with Ansel, it always startled me just how much so, how two people who could barely be in the room with each other could mesh so well, so easily, on the off chance we had one of our truce type moratoriums going on and spoke more than a few polite words.

  “Yeah.”

  “Still not smellin’ what you’re sellin’ with this, here, Asshole.”

  Ansel laughed. He enjoyed me calling him an asshole much more than I’d ever thought possible. I shouldn’t find it that amusing. And yet...

  “Eldritch knew what was going on. He-”

  “Hey, wait. If Eldritch knew, and your parents knew, and Fynn knew, who else was aware of this? My parents...?”

  Ansel shook his head. “I think they suspected. Your mom had hinted at mine, but then they were held in the Alpha’s thrall not to speak of it, and then I let you be and it sort of faded out.”

  “I’m sorry, but I find it hard to believe you just let me go, your supposed maybe mate, to just, what, watch me hook up and possibly move on with other guys while you dated and banged half the town?”

  “Have you hooked up with other guys?” Why did he say this like it was a rhetorical question and just needed something to say?

  “You mean other than your brother?” It was a jab, plain and simple. Take that, ho bag, I banged your little bro. Ick. Nope. Didn’t even sound right saying it in my head. Gah.

  Ansel snarled at the mention of Fynn. “He’s lucky he’s my brother,” he growled, fur starting to sprout up along his face and arms.

  “Hey, hey. I was only fucking with you, which you should be just fine with, with your belt notched resume, may I remind you. Now quit getting pissed and shifting. Your werewolf form is too heavy to be fiddle farting around in that tree!”

  “Help me in, then.” His voice was rough with his beast, but his hair was already going back to human proportions.

  Leaning out the window a little farther, I peered down at him. “You could always go back down the tree, like a normal person?”

  “Normal is overrated. You helping me in or am I barging in? Your choice, Warhola.”

  “My name is Emmy, Emersyn, you know, just in case you’ve forgotten it.”


  “Help me in and I can call you mine,” he grumbled. He said it so sweetly, earnestly, I laughed.

  Remembering it was the middle of the night and my parents were sleeping, I put my finger to my lips. “Shhh. You want to wake the whole house, big mouth?”

  “You don’t honestly think they don’t know what’s up?” he countered, “Or half the neighborhood, for that matter.”

  “Oh- Give me your hand.” Gripping the windowsill, I reached out with the other hand, fingers wiggling for him to take them. “Jump the distance and grab onto me, I’ll pull you in, but be quick about it.”

  Ansel eyed the jump and my hand skeptically.

  “Fynn used to do it all the time,” I grumbled thoughtlessly. Realizing belatedly how that must sound, I cringed. “That’s not what I-”

  Ansel’s nostrils flared. Large body coiling tight, he leapt, partially shifting as he launched off the tree, putting an extra spring in his step. Landing with a too loud thud, his claws raking the tiles on the roof, displacing more than a few, his clawed hands lifted and slapped the windowsill, digging in.

  My hands shot up as I stumbled back. “Well, that was definitely one way of doing it,” I muttered.

  Gripping the windowsill as he slipped back into his human skin, he shook himself out. Eyeing the give in his pants, the material, to my surprise, was stretchy denim, the elastic holding, he slipped in through the open window.

  A strange bulge in his pants made itself known then. Grinning, eyeing where my gaze fell, he tugged on the waistband of his pants, pulling it away from his person, and whipped out, of all things, a book. Tapping the cover, he held it out to me with a flourish.

  “A dick book. Wow, asshole, you shouldn’t have,” I deadpanned, yet I leaned in to read the title. Oooh. Another book pretty. Mine.

  “Told you, Roly. I’m wearin’ chones.”

  “So you say,” I murmured, but practically snatched the book from his hand. Smoothing my fingertips over the glossy cover, my eyes danced. “Iriduan Test Subjects. Susan Trombley.” Flipping over to the back, I read the back, a slow smile tugging at my lips. “Badass.” My head shot up and I met his gaze. The book’s spine was worn in a loving way. It had been read more than once, many a times, if I were to guess. “You’re loaning it to me?”