The Wolf's Concubine

by Erin St. Charles

  She expected the man to give her a firm handshake. She was surprised when both Phelan and the man jumped to their feet. The older man bent his head to kiss her hand.

  She jerked at the sound of a low growl coming from Phelan. When she looked over at him, he was no longer smiling.

  “Bob Richards,” said the old man as he straightened. He smiled pleasantly, even in the face of the dark expression clouding Phelan’s features. She looked from man to man, uncertain about the source of the hostility between them, or rather, Phelan’s hostility. Richards didn't seem to be upset at all.

  “Are you a friend of Phelan’s?” Lola asked, looking around for the best place to sit.

  She decided on one of two wingback chairs near the fireplace, sinking in with a happy sigh.

  “You might say that I've known Phelan his whole life,” Richards said as he took a seat again, making himself comfortable. “And it’s been a dog’s age since he’s been in these parts.”

  She hid her surprise that Phelan had once lived here. She thought they were going to some random safe house. She should have known he would take her someplace familiar. She didn’t know what — if any — cover story Phelan had planned to tell the town’s people about his return to Perdition.

  Mr. Richards gave her a pointed stare. “Where are you from, young lady?”

  He looked all casual and friendly, but Lola knew pure nosiness when she saw it.

  “I'm from New Orleans,” she said in a friendly tone, ignoring Phelan's surprised glance. “But I live in Dallas now.”

  “Oh! That how you met?” Mr. Richard said, looking eager.

  Yep. She had heard that shifter town folk were always busy getting into people’s business. This man was apparently trying to figure out whether she and Phelan were a couple. She looked at Phelan for guidance. She had no idea what cover story he had concocted.

  “Yes,” Phelan answered.

  “And you brought her for homecoming weekend?” Richards said with an expectant gleam in his eyes.

  “Something like that,” said Phelan, his frown deepening into a scowl.

  From all his questions, Lola had the impression Richards was the town gossip.

  “Mr. Richards, was there something you needed?” she found herself asking as she took her cue from Phelan. He did not seem to want this man in his house.

  “Well, no.” Richards did not seem in the least put-off by Phelan and Lola’s lack of enthusiasm for his visit. “Phelan here can tell you I’m the unofficial welcome wagon here in Perdition. Always have been. And of course, Phelan’s parents let me know he was back in Texas and might come to town at some point. I kept my eyes open for him.”

  Lola got the feeling that she was being specifically fed information. Richards seemed like a smart guy, one who didn’t make idle conversation.

  “Mr. Richards, thank you for stopping by," Phelan spoke up. "Since there's nothing you needed—"

  “Oh, heck no,” said Richards. “I'll be glad to let your parents know you came for the weekend. And you brought your girlfriend. How long did you say you two have been together?”

  So, this is what this little visit was all about.

  Lola started to protest that she wasn’t his girlfriend, but Phelan spoke first. “Lola isn’t my girlfriend, sir.”

  She knew she shouldn’t be disappointed. But she flinched inside at Phelan's firm pronouncement, even though it was true. She wasn't his girlfriend. She wasn't anything other than his job. She was just his job. He was like all the other men she’d known over the years who said they would protect her.

  Lola was a concubine. A brothel worker. A woman whose past and current life involved using her body and charms to manipulate men. No doubt, Phelan would probably never have anything to do with a woman like her if he had a choice.

  While she'd been lost in her thoughts, Phelan stood and walked the few steps to her chair. He stood behind her and placed his hands on the seat back, his fingers grazing her skin.

  “Lola's not my girlfriend," he said proudly. "She’s my fiancée.”

  Chapter 13

  Phelan gripped the steering wheel on his truck, pride and nerves warring inside him. He glanced at Lola in the passenger seat. She'd handled the announcement of their fake engagement admirably, keeping a straight face as he had calmly asserted the blatant untruth.

  To top it off, she'd even artfully dodged Richards’ pointed questions about the details of their relationship.

  How did they meet? We met at work.

  How long had they been dating? We had a whirlwind romance.

  When do they plan to mate and marry? We haven’t set a date yet.

  Lola answered for both Phelan and herself, smiling—glowing —the entire time. She had effortlessly picked up the lie as if they’d discussed their cover story in detail, and made it her own. Truth be told, she’d taken to the lie so easily that he wondered whether he’d ever be on the receiving end of such deception. Was this something she picked up as a concubine? Or from working at the brothel?

  He wondered what it would take to truly make her his. What would it be like to see her glow like that all the time?

  She fiddled with the strap of her bag, then spoke. “How long do you think we’ll have to stay here?”

  He frowned at the question. Was she in a hurry to get back to the brothel? He didn’t know the specifics of her work, but the thought of her doing any job a beautiful woman at a brothel would do made him cringe.

  Phelan focused on the road. The cabin was well outside of town, the road was unpaved, and only gravel kept the encroaching prairie at bay.

  “Hello? Did you hear what I just said? When do you think I can go back home?”

  “Soon,” he said.

  Never, he thought.

  “Where are we going?" she asked, her head tilted. "I thought we had to lay low so no one saw me?"

  "Town," he said, relieved to have a safe topic to discuss. "Since Richards knows we’re here, it’s safe to say everyone else in town will know, too. We don’t want to attract too much attention. It would be weird if we stayed out here while everyone was in town for homecoming. Wolves are social creatures."

  "Yeah, that’s what I’ve heard,” she said lightly. "Does Mr. Richards always show up like that?"

  "He's a friend of my parents," said Phelan, shrugging.

  “I get why you told him we were together..." her voice trailed off and she looked apprehensive, her eyebrows furrowed.

  No, she didn't. Not really. And he had no idea how he was going to tell her that she was his mate, that fate had brought them together, that he couldn't ever let her go.

  "If I told people that I was guarding you, that would raise too many questions." He gave her a partial truth. "Unattached females are fair game in a pack town. This is safer for you."

  Also, safer for me. I won't have to worry about maiming someone who tried to take you away from me.

  This situation was careening out of control now that Richards knew they were holed up in the cabin. Phelan needed to persuade Lola to mate with him. Soon. Too bad he had no clue how to go about it.

  Did she enjoy her job? If so, could he persuade her to try another line of work? What would happen if she didn’t want to change jobs? The thought of going back to work to be leered at by strangers didn’t sit well with him. For one thing, he’d have to kill too many men to protect what was his.

  He thought about what Bubba had told him.

  Find out what your mate cares about.

  "Have you been to a pack town before?" he asked, giving her a sidelong glance.

  "In Louisiana, yes," she said, amusement in her voice. "Not here in Texas."

  “The Cermaks were among the first settlers in town,” he told her.

  "What was it like? Growing up in a small town?" She turned in her seat to face him. Her clear brown eyes shone with interest.

  "I don't know," he said slowly. How do you explain something you have no comparison for? It was fine, I guess. Everyone’s
always in your business, though. You know what I mean, right?"

  "Uh, not really.” Her face clouded over for a moment. “So, I take it Mr. Richards is not an exception? I should brace myself for a town like that?" She smiled.

  He couldn't help but notice how her face lit up. She had beautiful white teeth that contrasted nicely with her brown skin. She really was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.

  "Yeah, that's about right. It's just the way we are," he smiled at her.

  Even in full daylight, her skin was perfect. Smooth and dewy.

  "How long ‘til we get there?" She reached for the radio dial as she had the night before. This time, he didn't try to stop her.

  "I don't think that will work this far out of town. We'll be there in about eight minutes."

  "Eight minutes? Precisely eight minutes?" Her lips twisted into a smirk.

  He looked at her, puzzled. "Yes. Eight minutes."

  "I guess you don't realize how bizarre it is to know it will take you precisely eight minutes to get somewhere," she said, her voice brimming with humor.

  He frowned slightly, not understanding her amusement. It's not like the town or the cabin had moved locations. Why wouldn't he know how far it was between the two?

  She rolled her eyes at him and explained, "Most people, when you ask them how long it takes to get somewhere, would say something like 'five or ten minutes'. You are...precise. Is that how you are about everything?"

  He frowned, feeling a little affronted. "Yes. Why wouldn't I be?"

  "Never mind," she said dismissively, rummaging around in her bag.

  More than ever, he wanted to know what she kept in that bag.

  They bounced over ruts in the road until they came to the Farm-to-Market road leading into Perdition. His tires hit the paved road and the ride smoothed out.

  "So," Lola started again. "What are the activities this weekend?

  Her demeanor seemed relaxed, but Phelan could sense her tension.

  "I'm not sure. To be honest, I didn't read the invitation," he admitted. "My guess would be a football game, a tailgate, a pack run. And an alumnus get-together. They used to do a carnival in the church parking lot, but I don’t know if they still do that."

  "Oh," she said, her voice flat and toneless. She shifted in her seat and stared out the passenger window.

  He glanced at her, worried. Had he said something to upset her?

  “Is there an issue?” he asked carefully

  “No," she said, but her face grew tight with tension. "I just...”

  “You just…?” he prompted when she didn't continue.

  She let out a soft, unhappy sigh and glanced at him. “I don’t have anything to wear.”

  “I hadn’t counted on you trying to get away from the person protecting you,” he accused. “If you had stayed in the car, this wouldn’t have come up.”

  She frowned and he could feel her disappointment.

  Shit. Probably not what you say to a woman you want to woo.

  “Doesn’t matter,” he said confidently. “We’ll find you something to wear.”

  “Or, you could just take me home…” She gave him a pointed look.

  Over my dead body, he thought. But what he said was, “I’ll take you shopping.”

  “Won’t the evil doers be able to track my purchases?” she pointed out.

  “Since I’ll be paying in cash, that won’t be an issue. We’ll find you something in Perdition,” he reassured her. “No one will track us here.”

  She relaxed in her seat, the tension draining out of her. Despite her tough exterior, she seemed to be relieved at the girly prospect of going shopping. Every woman loved to shop, right? He made good money, and taking Lola shopping would be an easy way to score points with her.

  “Everyone here is pack, and pack sticks together,” he said. “We don’t do things to put each other in jeopardy. And everyone upholds the mate bond.”

  He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, hoping to gauge her reaction to the idea of being his mate.

  She scoffed. “I thought you said there were non-shifters living in Perdition?”

  “Yeah, but when you live in Perdition, you become pack. The punishment for betraying the pack is banishment.”

  Her face remained neutral, but he sensed the wheels turning in her brain. Her guard went down a bit, as evidenced by the way her body relaxed in her seat. He decided on another line of questioning.

  “Why did you rabbit?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Why did you run away from me? Where were you going?” he asked her.

  “I already told you. I can take care of myself. I’ve been doing it—”

  “All your life? Yeah, I know. You told me. But you needed me to rescue you from the changeling. If I hadn’t come along—”

  She crossed her arms over her small, perky breasts. “If you hadn’t been following me—”

  "I could just go back home, you know," she said in a hopeful tone.

  "No," he said firmly. "That's not how protection works. You can't keep running away."

  “I ran because I didn’t think I needed protecting any longer,” she said, looking haughty.

  He scoffed at her admission. “You seriously thought that?”

  “I’ve been taking care of myself since I was a little girl,” she said lightly, shrugging her shoulders.

  “Right. I’m sure the other victims felt they could take care of themselves, too.” His voice held a low, confidential tone. “And none of them have been seen again. All of them disappeared without a trace. All but Julie Wheeler, who threw herself into oncoming traffic to get away from her kidnapper.”

  Lola harrumphed, giving him a pointed look.

  “If you say so…” her voice trailed off as if to convey her disagreement.

  There was no way Lola could protect herself against a changeling. She was his mate, and he had to show her that she no longer had to do life alone. Later, he would explain to her that they were mates, that he would always protect her. Somehow, he'd figure out a way to bring this up with her. Once she trusted him more.

  She was his mate. They would work it all out. It would just take a bit of time.

  Chapter 14

  Unease fluttered in the pit of Lola’s belly as they drove into Perdition. Phelan steered his Tahoe onto Main Street. In only a few hours, the sleepy little town had awakened and crowds of people milled around the establishments lining the streets.

  More people in town also meant more squares—clean-cut, well-scrubbed people who had never seen the velvet-lined inside of a brothel. Nice people who’d never looked for breakfast in a dumpster, or hidden all their possessions in a knapsack for fear of having things stolen by the other kids in the group home.

  She fingered the patchwork seams of her bag and pushed the unwanted memories aside. Her stomach continued to flip and flutter, but she did her best to ignore it. She could fit in.

  She saw the thrift store ahead and remembered the vintage sewing machine she’d seen earlier. She craned her neck to catch a glimpse of it as they drove by, but they were going too fast for her to get a good look. She settled back in her seat, brooding.

  “What’s caught your eye?” Phelan asked her. She didn’t know if she felt pleased that he’d noticed and asked, or resentful that he felt the need to get in her business.

  “Nothing,” she snapped.

  He shrugged, looking unbothered. “Suit yourself.”

  He pulled his truck into a parking space in front of the diner. He turned to look at her. She ignored him and continued to pout in the passenger seat, not liking the loss of control she was currently experiencing.

  “What are we doing here?” she grumped. “I’m not hungry.” But her stomach disagreed and made cranky, rumbly noises.

  “Why do you keep lying about being hungry?” he asked, his face twisted into a frown of incredulity.

  Was he angry with her? She couldn’t tell, but he needed to know he couldn’t boss her aro
und and make decisions for her.

  She glared at him, remembering all the times she went without eating because asking for food always seemed to come with strings attached.

  “If you must know," she said coldly. "I’m on a diet.”

  She looked out the window again, but felt his eyes on her.

  “Somehow, I don’t believe you,” he said softly, all trace of anger gone from his voice.

  He had leaned in close to her, and she felt his breath on her neck. She turned to look at him, her lips pursed and her eyebrows knit together, to find him looking into her eyes with an unreadable expression.

  “So... anything I need to know before we go in?” She found herself mesmerized by his impossibly blue eyes. When he spoke, his breath, warm and minty, fanned over her face.

  But she was keenly aware of the fact that they were on his turf, among his people. Life had taught her to stay flexible. To roll with whatever life threw at her. But she had been off-kilter since the moment she’d boarded the Glide.

  * * *

  She was going into a situation she could not have imagined twenty-four hours before. To top it off, she was entering an environment where most everyone knew more about her “fiancé” than she did.

  “Nothing, really," he said, leaning back in his seat. "We’re going to go in, be seen, eat, then get the hell out of here. I don’t know about you, but I’m tired.”

  She was tired. She didn’t know what their sleeping situation would be, since the cabin was so small, but at the moment she didn’t care.

  She noted the dark circles under his beautiful blue eyes. Guilt lay heavily on her shoulders. It was true, they wouldn’t be here had she stayed in the truck at the fueling station, and she felt a little sorry that her decision had resulted in their fake engagement. All things considered, he seemed like a nice enough guy, and she felt bad that he might lose face when all this was over and she left.

  The thought of leaving and possibly damaging Phelan’s reputation weighed on her, but she couldn’t dwell on that.

  Her mind whirled with what she would do to him when she left, and she frowned.