Then she was gone, off to putter over the thousand and one things she thought were essential for creating a perfect holiday. The tasks were all unnecessary of course. We could both feel the joy of the pack filtering in from every direction. But staying busy made my mate happy, so I couldn’t complain.
Wait, was that a sound?
The tiniest mouse-like scratching emanated from the wrapped parcel in front of me and I dropped down nose to paw to focus on the puzzle. Something living? Something mechanical?
And were those words visible through the tiny gap left between wrapping paper and object underneath?
My wolf eyes crossed when faced with letters and numbers, so I shifted form once again and plucked the box off the ground with human fingertips. Perhaps a little extra light would help me focus on annoying human scribblings.
Stepping closer to the window, I leaned into the sun’s warmth. Flick, flick, flick. It wasn’t really opening the present if I just pried up an edge of tape that was already loose. Or at least I hoped my mate would see it that way.
The noise within the box sped up as if the sun’s rays had accelerated a chemical reaction. Cold-blooded critter maybe? Lizard tails were always so tasty wriggling alone on the patio stones. And beetle exoskeletons crunched so nicely between lupine teeth...
Wait. Crenellated edges, a rectangle full of tiny brown lines in the shape of our nation’s southern neighbor. A stamp.
Unable to wait, I found fingers tearing at paper. Packing tape ripped from cardboard. Tiny brown seeds fell out into my palm.
My mate returned just as I popped the first morsel into my mouth, cracked it between flat molars, sucked out the sweet larva wriggling inside.
Delicious.
Tasty morsel a mere memory, I turned to see my mate clutching my gift to her, this parcel still wrapped. The soft cashmere sweater hiding inside would hug her close when I wasn’t available to do the job myself. From her hangdog expression it appeared she needed a hug sooner rather than later.
Pulling her into my arms, I squeezed the angst out, then stepped back. Her mouth was quirked to one side, her eyes on the three Mexican jumping beans still sitting in the palm of my hand.
“You’re disappointed,” she said. “I shouldn’t have gotten you a gag gift.”
I titled my head again, brow creased. She was such a perfect mate, I sometimes forgot she couldn’t see inside my brain. Words then.
“Are you kidding?” I countered. “Hunting Christmas was the best gift ever. Let’s do it again next year.”
Joining Up
AFTER A CERTAIN AGE, a man on the prowl for a life partner has to accept that the dating pool is pretty much limited to single moms. I was good with that.
So when Celia told me about the existence of an estranged daughter, I empathized. And when that same grown daughter came back into both of our lives, I knew I had to do the right thing.
I’d ask Fen for permission before I popped the question to the most important woman in my life.
“Just don’t stare into her eyes,” I reminded myself. “Werewolves hate dominance displays.”
Perhaps that’s why I felt more like a wildlife biologist than a cop as I headed up the hillside to the cabin Fen shared with her spouse. No, scratch that. Her mate. Gotta get the terminology down pat if I wanted to make this errand a success.
“Paul?”
I whirled, pulling my hand away from my absent sidearm. I’d forced myself to leave the firepower behind, knowing that guns and girls don’t mix. Only this wasn’t a girl. This was a massive male whose brawn wasn’t half as intimidating as the feral wolf that peered out from behind his eyes.
“Hey,” I said, watching him sniff my fear out of the air. “Is Fen around?”
Her mate jerked his chin at the cabin barely visible through the darkening forest. “Need any help?”
“No, thanks. I think I’ve got this.”
He smirked. Turned, dropping pants onto the frozen earth. Fell to the ground in the shape of a massive canine and loped away into the winter-bare trees.
I gulped. Combine the size of the male’s teeth with the emotional volatility of a woman and I had a sinking suspicion I wasn’t going to make it out of that cabin alive.
Luckily, I had an ace in the hole. Feeling within my pocket to make sure the trinket was still present, I strode forward with squared shoulders. This really shouldn’t be any worse than the time I’d gotten the call about bank robbers while my partner was out of town. Okay, well, no worse than I’d assumed facing down those bank robbers would be...before they’d materialized into dumb kids in Halloween costumes looking for a candy fix.
The cabin door opened the second my fist touched the wood. Creaking ominously inward, the widening crack revealed an interior pitch black to human eyes. Perhaps putting off this project until sunset hadn’t been the brightest idea.
“Paul?”
Unlike her mate, Fen appeared perfectly normal. Well, perfectly normal with tattoos running up and down her arms and with hair that appeared to have been hacked short with a machete.
She was nothing like her mother. Still, she could have passed for human on a city street, probably because she was only half werewolf on her father’s side. I just hoped Fen was like Celia in the only way that currently mattered.
“I...”
I stuttered my way back to silence, the long explanation I’d dreamed up over the past few weeks stubbornly refusing to emerge. Here I was taking the step I’d dreamed of for so long and I couldn’t spit out more than a single word.
We stood and stared at each other. Finally, Fen’s mouth quirked upwards into a hint of a smile. “Okay, guess I’ll do the talking.”
She stepped back, waiting for me to join her inside. The glass front of the wood stove in the corner glowed from the light of the fire within, but everything else receded into darkness. I inched forward anyway and the door clicked shut behind my back, shutting me inside with a werewolf who I suspected soon wouldn’t consider me her friend.
She was polite, though, as she flicked on a table lamp then pulled a beer out of a mini-fridge and tossed it my way. I grabbed the bottle out of the air...and felt her fingers slipping into my pants pocket faster than should have been humanly possible.
Of course, she wasn’t human. Best not forget that.
Fen’s eyebrows rose as the same hand emerged with her prize. “Not what I was expecting. What’s this?”
My military ID dangled from her fingertips, the spiel I’d planned fleeing from my brain. “I want to marry your mother,” I said at last, all flowery language long since faded into the dim recesses of a brain that begged me to flee, flee, flee.
“And the neck bling?”
I cringed away from words that no longer sounded nearly as amusing as they had in the safety of my own home. Hesitating, I cleared my throat then spoke. “It’s a dog tag. To prove I want to be part of your pack.”
For a moment, all was silent except the crackle of the fire. Then a choked huff emerged from the werewolf’s throat. I couldn’t decide whether to apply the Heimlich maneuver or to run as fast as I could in the other direction.
Only when the hacking erupted into gales of laughter did I relax at last. Like mother like daughter. A woman enjoys a man who can make her laugh.
“You have my blessing,” my stepdaughter said, pulling my head down to drape the chain back around my neck where it belonged. “Welcome to the pack.”
Potatoes and Gravy
“What do you want for Christmas?”
Calla stroked tentative fingers across soft red fur then peered up at the human’s fluffy white beard. She wasn’t quite sure why this stranger was so over-dressed or why he asked such nosy questions. But she was a good-natured kid, so she ignored the former discrepancy and obliged the latter request.
“Snow.”
“Snow? That’s all? What about a Barbie. Little girls love Barbies.”
Calla had a vague understanding that Barbies were miniature plas
tic humans useful for practicing haircuts and streamlining fashion consciousness. She wasn’t remotely interested in learning to accessorize. If she wanted to look pretty, she’d just grow out her fur and return to her more familiar lupine shape.
Werewolves didn’t need Barbies.
“Snow,” she repeated firmly. “I want snow for Christmas.”
“Well, I’ll see what I can do,” the human said, his words agreeable but his body language tense as he all but pushed her out of his lap. Calla shrugged and pattered back to her waiting pack mates, all of them older than herself and more able to fit into this strange human world they’d recently found themselves in.
“Snow, huh?” Lupe asked, pushing her nose into Calla’s hair. Humans would think Lupe was smelling that cute little-girl smell, but Calla knew her pack mate was reassuring her as an older wolf should.
“Snow,” Calla agreed.
“Weather’s supposed to be warm and dry tomorrow,” Sterling said quietly. The protector of her new foster siblings didn’t want to see her disappointed. “Might snow later in the week.”
“How about a snow cone?” Lupe interjected. She flourished crisp dollar bills, still proud of being the one granted the cash when their alpha had dropped them off at the mall an hour earlier.
“I like cherry,” Calla said to make them all happy. She did like cherry. But she also wanted snow. Real snow like she’d seen on television, falling out of the sky. She wanted to catch a snowflake on her nose while music swelled around her. To dance and caper in the cold, white fluff.
Calla’s life had changed so dramatically over the past few months. She’d gone from being a Sit-Stay-Aren’t-you-listening? dog to a wolf who could make herself heard with human words. She’d traveled north to join a pack, had found true friends and family, and had learned to walk on two clawless feet.
Still, in the movies, there was always snow at the grand finale. She wanted snow.
The rest of the day passed in a blur of hot chocolate and “Which Christmas present do you want to unwrap tonight?” and stockings hung by the chimney with care. There was a story about Santa Claus—so that’s who the mall human was pretending to be—and flying reindeer and melting snowmen.
The drippy snow creature was ominous. But if reindeer could learn how to fly, surely her pack could rustle up just a little snow.
Creeping downstairs the next morning, she passed by the bulging stockings full of goodies her alphas had hidden in the back of their closet two weeks earlier. She’d really been looking forward to those treats—puzzles and fluffy mittens and, last time she’d nosed into the stash, even some lusciously ripe pears.
But there was something else she wanted to check out first.
Cracking open the front door, she peered out into the dim morning light. The sun was barely beginning to creep up over the mountaintop and frost glinted silver atop the grass.
Silver...but not white. The sky was cloudless, the air was dry. There was no snow.
She shouldn’t have been disappointed. After all, Sterling and Lupe and fake-Santa had all warned her it was too much to ask for. Still, she couldn’t help pressing a hand to her aching stomach as she took a step backward, began to close the door.
Magic isn’t real.
Then, out of nowhere, a snowflake appeared. The house above and behind her woke as music filled the air. “Twas on a night like this,” her pack mates crooned in glorious harmony.
More flakes. She inched out into the gentle cascade, stuck out her tongue, twirled amid the sparkling fall of brilliant snow.
Mmm, tastes like mashed potatoes. Yummy.
Looking up, she caught Lupe sliding closed the window above her head. A last few granules of instant potato mixed with glitter glinted in the rising sun as they drifted down into Calla’s hair.
Licking her chops, Calla smiled. She’d gotten what she wanted. Now, everything else was gravy.
From the Author
I HOPE YOU ENJOYED the Alpha Underground trilogy! In case you missed the prequel novella, you can learn more about Hunter’s tumultuous introduction to Stormwinder in Dark Wolf Adrift.
Then why not check out the Wolf Rampant series? The first book is free on all retailers, and you can also download a free starter library when you sign up for my email list.
Finally, I hope you’ll consider typing up a review on the retailer of your choice. Your kind words keep me writing and help others decide whether to take a chance on a new author.
Thank you so much for reading. You are why I write.
Shiftless
“NO, THAT’S JUST RUDE and inappropriate.” The soft male voice insinuated its way into my reading. A pause, then he continued his one-sided conversation. “Stop for one minute and imagine you’re a woman alone in the city and two guys walk up to you. You probably wouldn’t feel very safe, would you?” Pause. “Okay, one guy and his dog.”
At first, I didn’t realize they were talking about me. I was happily curled up in a comfy armchair with a copy of Patricia Briggs’ newest book open on my lap, already enveloped by the satisfying welcome of a werewolf pack, albeit a fictional one. Yes, this is what my life had come to—it had been ten years since I’d last seen a werewolf anywhere other than in a mirror, so I relied on books to get my pack fix. Depressing, but true.
Momentary pleasure aside, the whole day had been one long mistake. I usually tried to stay away from the big city, but when I woke this morning, my inner wolf had felt like it was gnawing at my bones and my stomach ached with the absence of pack. Filling the gaping cavity in my soul with an imaginary wolf pack seemed worth lying to my boss, putting my good sense on hold, and playing hooky for the day.
Only after I’d settled in a chair by the bookstore’s front window, paranormal fantasy in hand, did I see the error of my ways. Or rather, hear it. At first, I’d merely blocked out the man’s words as they drifted over to insinuate their way into my reading, but now I noticed the frustrated, yet loving, twist to the man’s tone. Despite my better sense, curiosity made me peer up from my page and crane my head around to seek out the source of the conversation.
The speaker was about my age, and he did have a canine with him, but the slight smile on my lips leftover from overhearing his words was quickly stifled as I realized that the monstrosity was no dog. It was a wolf, and not just any wolf—the man’s companion was a werewolf like me.
While you might think that would be a good thing given the yearning in my stomach, I had kept my distance from other werewolves for a very good reason. Now was not the time to go back. I could feel my cheeks heating up, and the man’s voice became distant as terror stole blood away from my ears, sending the nutrition to my tensed muscles instead. I had to get out of there fast.
This danger was the precise reason I rarely came to the city. Even though the area was out-territory, not owned by any wolf pack, who was to say I wouldn’t bump into another werewolf drifting through? As much as I hated my history, my father was an alpha and I was aware that I smelled like the best kind of mate material to male werewolves. The alphas, especially, were used to taking what they wanted, and one glance into this wolf’s eyes was all it took to prove he was as alpha as they came.
The reality was that I had fled my home pack a decade ago to prevent a forced mating. And even though the packless ache in my stomach was a constant reminder of what I’d lost, in the light of day, that pain still seemed like a good trade for my independence. No way was I going to let a momentary slip rope me back into being an alpha werewolf’s pawn—I needed to get out of this wolf’s sight immediately.
Even though I hadn’t paid for my book yet, I figured it was a worthy casualty to save me from being drawn back into the werewolf world. So I dropped the text onto the couch cushions, sprang to my feet, and speed walked out the door, back into the seeming safety of the street. My car—and freedom—were only two blocks away, and I could almost taste how good it would feel to slam the door, pop the locks, and hit the accelerator. I could be back in my
empty cabin in half an hour, this close call forgotten.
But my car was still out of sight when I heard the bookstore’s door open and close behind me. No longer concerned with appearances, I broke into a run, Stupid, stupid, stupid echoing through my mind in time to the beat of my shoes on the pavement. I couldn’t let myself believe that this is how I would be sucked back into a pack, due to a chance meeting in a bookstore while reading about fictional shifters. If I’d picked up Twilight instead, would I have been treated to a sparkly vampire?
Even as that thought drifted through my adrenaline-charged mind, I realized that no one’s footsteps pounded after me. I would be able to see my car as soon as I rounded the corner, and for a moment, I thought I might be safe. Maybe I’d misread the acquisitive gleam in the alpha’s eyes; maybe a random customer had left the store soon after I did, not a hunting werewolf.
But I knew better. With one short bark, the wolf stilled my flight, then the man’s voice came a beat behind, asking me to wait. But it was the alpha’s command, not his partner’s words, that had stopped me in my tracks. Just like my father’s orders had been impossible to disobey, now another alpha had taken away my free will with one bark.
I was so angry and terrified, I almost expected to feel my wolf rising up through my skin the way it used to in the Chief’s presence. And for the first time in a decade, I would have welcomed her strong protection rather than being afraid of the wolf’s wild nature and sharp teeth. Instead, I heard only my human mind, which reminded me that there was no sense in running now that I’d been snared in the alpha’s net. Taking a deep breath, I let my shoulders slump as I succumbed to the inevitable.
AS MUCH AS I WANTED to stay in place and ignore the approaching alpha, I couldn’t let danger creep up behind me unseen, so I turned and waited for the duo to catch up. As they advanced, I focused on the man instead of the wolf for the first time and noticed that he was clearly a werewolf just like his partner. He was also apologizing profusely even before he reached me. “I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry!” he exclaimed, switching the leash he held into his left hand so he could reach out to shake mine. “I’m Chase, and my very rude friend is Wolfie.”
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