The Wolf's Concubine

by Erin St. Charles

  Lola and Auntie made small talk, and Lola couldn’t help but wonder when Auntie planned on following through with her earlier pronouncement. She actually found she didn’t mind making the mums. It wasn’t that different from creating pleats, pin tucks, or any number of fiddly sewing techniques.

  As if reading her mind, Auntie asked, “How do you like your new sewing machine?”

  Lola was surprised at how deftly the other woman had made her forget this was the reason she sat down with her in the first place.

  “I like it,” said Lola, eyes on the ribbon she was folding. “Singers are very sturdy machines, but hard to find. The one Phelan got me was made in 1963, so it’s nearly a hundred years old.”

  “I really don’t know much about them,” Auntie admitted. “I just do what the spirits tell me to do.”

  “Does that happen a lot?” Lola asked, trying to keep her voice light and casual. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask if she really heard spirits, or if she just heard voices.

  Auntie shrugged. “Often enough. I think the spirits move me to do things they want to have done. They don’t speak to me in the normal way that I think you’d expect.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Lola, mentally scolding herself. Hadn’t she just been wondering whether Auntie was simply batshit crazy? You weren’t supposed to encourage those types of delusions, were you?

  They had by then finished with braiding the ribbons and moved on to assembling their first mum. They attached ribbons to the backing using a hot glue gun. Lolo winced when she burned her thumb with glue.

  “You have to be prepared to sacrifice to the glue gun gods if you want your project to turn out well,” said Auntie with a chuckle.

  Lola sucked on the digit and glanced at the other table where the other women were working. They hastily focused on the task at hand, as if they had been listening in on Lola and Auntie’s conversation, which they probably had been. Lola reached for her glass to take another sip and frowned when she saw it was empty. She must have drained her margarita glass some time ago, something she didn’t remember doing.

  “Would you like another one?” Auntie asked, eyebrows raised in question, head nodding in the direction of the empty glass. Lola could only assume that not only did Auntie listen to spirits, but in fact read minds as well.

  Probably wouldn’t be a good idea to have another one…

  “Sure!” she said, wondering what it was about this woman that made her trust her enough to bring her drink without any fear that she might slip something extra into it. Lola wasn’t convinced that Auntie wouldn’t make a play for Phelan, if the opportunity presented itself. Because seriously, what unencumbered woman wouldn’t want to be with someone like Phelan?

  Just thinking about him made her stomach flip with excitement. Just because she was planning to leave Perdition soon, didn’t mean she wanted the likes of Auntie to get her hooks into him. She resolved to do whatever she could to keep Auntie away from Phelan.

  The object of Lola’s new, dark obsession soon reappeared with another giant margarita. Lola watched as Auntie set the drink on a nearby end table and settled herself cross-legged at the coffee table again. Lola eyed the drink. It looked really tasty, and she wanted more of the fruity goodness, but first she needed to clear a few things up.

  “Are you after my man?” Lola blurted. Auntie blinked and frowned at her in confusion. Twyla and Jasmine once again stared in her direction like a pair of google-eyed doll prizes at the St. Ailbe’s benefit carnival.

  “If you lay a hand on him again, I will Cut. That. Hand. Off!” Lola shrieked with conviction, feeling as if she had well made her point. Satisfied with herself, and also feeling no pain, she lunged for the margarita, only to miss it by a mile and, to her horror, fall on her side with an “oof!” as her ribs connected with the hardwood floors.

  She lay on the floor, wincing from the pain, before she was yanked up and guided to the couch. Perhaps the pain of falling to the floor jolted her out of her alcoholic haze. She was proud of herself for that conclusion. Her countenance wilted when she saw all three ladies watching her with concern. Maybe not so much.

  Lola shook her head, confused, and tried to get to her feet.

  “Wow...I don’t know what came over me,” she said, embarrassment at her inappropriate declaration.

  Between the four of them, Auntie was the closest thing to a medical professional, so Lola had the additional indignity of having to address her new nemesis as the other woman patted her face as if to restore clarity to Lola’s feeble brain.

  “I... don’t usually do things like that,” Lola said. “I don’t know what came over me,” she repeated. Then she swallowed and looked Auntie in the eyes.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t think you’re after my man,” Lola found herself saying. In truth, she was sure Auntie was after her man. Or at least, she wanted to feel Phelan up, and Lola was not having it.

  Then Twyla surprised them all by letting out a loud snort of laughter.

  “You’ll be fine,” said Twyla, her shoulders shaking from her laughter. Jasmine and Auntie looked at Twyla like she’d lost her marbles.

  Twyla pulled herself together, then burst into laughter again. Lola’s alcohol-fogged brain was beginning to understand she was being laughed at, not laughed with.

  After about a minute of Twyla’s annoying laughter, Lola had moved past being uncomfortable to being angry.

  “I think I’ll go…” said Lola, getting to her feet. Though she had no way of getting to the cabin, and in fact, wasn’t even sure where the cabin was, Lola was hellbent on leaving.

  “No, no, no, please don’t do that!” Twyla was now visibly trying to get herself under control. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. It’s your mating instinct kicking in, warning off possible challengers for your mate’s affections. I just never saw a human do it.”

  Oh, well, in that case…

  “Ah, it’s getting late,” said Lola, now embarrassed enough to want the hardwood floor to open and swallow her whole. She ignored Twyla’s assertion and got ready to get the hell out of there. “Phelan is still on his run, but maybe I can walk home. I don’t think we’re too far from the cabin.”

  “I think the alcohol went straight to her head,” said Auntie. “And from what I understand, mating hormones are no joke. I’ll take her home, make sure she’s okay, and be back in a few.”

  Before she knew it, Lola was bundled into the passenger seat of Auntie’s little Corolla. The ride took only a few minutes, all of which Lola spent looking out the window, sulking and studying the dusky shapes of the countryside. When Auntie parked outside of the cabin, Lola grabbed for the door handle.

  Auntie spoke before she could open the door.

  “Listen, I know you probably don’t want to hear this from me, but I need to let you know what the spirits told me about you and Phelan.”

  Lola’s eyes narrowed on Auntie, ready for an outlandish (but possibly accurate) prediction to spill from her cute, doe-eyed face.

  “What is it?” Lola demanded, letting out a harsh sigh. This was more than she felt like dealing with. She wanted to crash and have some quiet time.

  Auntie beamed, grasping both of Lola’s hands in her own.

  “You’re going to have a beautiful family,” Auntie said. “The spirits are predicting you and Phelan will have six children. Isn’t that exciting?”

  Not really. Not at all.

  Lola managed to hide her shock at the crazy woman’s prediction. She swung the door open, surprised that the pleasant weather of a few hours ago had morphed into what felt like a cold front coming through.

  “Good night, Auntie,” said Lola, getting out of the little car and stumbling a bit because the car was closer to the ground than Phelan’s truck. She played off the not so smooth move by straightening her body, adjusting her hobo over her shoulder, and marching to the front door, rubbing her arms against the chill in the air.

  She turned to look at Auntie, whose Corolla
still faced the cabin. She smiled brightly, waved at the other woman, and wiggled the doorknob, which thankfully was open.

  Exhausted and out of sorts, she closed the door behind her and leaned against it as she watched the retreating headlights cast shadows across the great room wall. Lola rarely drank alcohol, and as a result, she was a lightweight. Her mouth felt as if someone had poured sand into it. Sighing, she wobbled to the kitchen cooler for a bottle of water. She cracked the seal, then went to flop on the leather sectional and close her eyes.

  She must have nodded off because the next thing she knew she was startled awake by a loud knock at the door.

  Must be Richards. Was Auntie coming back for some reason? Was it Phelan?

  She let out a deep breath, shook her head to clear it, and went to the door, groggy, a little queasy and chilled, to open it. She had the door halfway open before she realized her mistake. The goosebumps on her skin stood at attention and a shudder vibrated through her body when she saw who was at the door.

  Chief Dennis Lauder.

  Chapter 38

  She really was a pretty little thing.

  Lola Black stood barely taller than five feet, a tiny morsel of a woman with big brown eyes that dominated her face, a flawless mahogany complexion, and a large cloud of dark hair that framed her face like a halo.

  Not just pretty. Beautiful.

  “Chief?” Her voice quavered with unease as she greeted him with the unnecessary information that he was the town’s chief of police. She swayed slightly on her feet, and she smelled of limes and alcohol.

  Margaritas.

  Lola had been drinking the fruity, alcoholic drink recently and was still a little drunk. She looked at him with wide eyes, like a deer aware of a predator before it pounced. As a non-shifting wolf hybrid in a town of shifters, having others fear him was a rare treat.

  Her fear of him made her more stunning than the last time Dennis had seen her.

  But she reeked of Phelan Cermak.

  When she’d come to town, Phelan and this tiny woman had not smelled like a mated couple. Now, this beautiful woman who cowered in fear of him, smelled like Phelan. Although she didn’t appear to have a mating bite, they’d definitely had carnal knowledge of each other. The corner of his mouth started to lift in a sneer he quickly squashed. He didn’t want to frighten her any more than she already was.

  He doffed his hat and smiled at her.

  “Aren’t you going to invite me in?” he asked.

  Her eyes saucered and she looked terrified at the prospect of him entering the house. Her face crumpled in disgust.

  “I–” She started to speak, then stopped when he put a hand up to stop her.

  “Never mind that,” he told her with a chuckle. “I prefer to stay right here, where the wind will carry my scent away. Wouldn’t want to annoy your fiancé, now would I?”

  He put emphasis on “fiancé” and watched her lips twitch at his words.

  No way were they truly mated.

  “What do you need, Chief?” Her voice was a small, frightened squeak. Her eyes travelled over his face, no doubt taking in his swollen nose, his blackened eyes. Thanks to Phelan, he’d be wearing a reminder of their tussle in the diner for a while.

  “Yeah, your fiancé did this, and we’ll get to that in a bit,” he told her. He bared his teeth in a tight grin. Her wary eyes slid away from his. Indecision passed like a shadow over her face as she weighed what to do.

  “Come outside, darlin’, so we can chat,” he urged her. “I know your fiancé is at a pack run, but he’ll be back soon, won’t he?” Dennis asked, though he knew for a fact it would be a while. He had a deputy monitoring the pack run, as he did for every pack run.

  He was taking a chance by coming here, and he did not relish the thought of another punch in the nose from Phelan. But he had a feeling after he relayed the message from Pantheon, she’d be disinclined to mention the chief’s visit to the other wolf. Based on what he’d been able to piece together from his own research, someone in Dallas wanted her, badly.

  Maybe she was a witness to something back in Dallas, or had pissed someone off. One of the gods might even want her. Dennis didn’t know, and he didn’t care.

  Regardless, Pantheon representatives were not allowed to cross the town’s borders. The only way they could get their hands on her was to flush her out. That made getting her to leave Perdition, and leave Phelan, an especially satisfying turn of events. Two birds, one stone. He’d be paid handsomely for his assistance, and he’d be able to deprive his old nemesis of something he couldn’t easily replace.

  Long moments passed as her eyes bore into his in an assessing manner. Then she shut the door in his face. Stunned, he stood there for a moment pondering what to do next when it swung open again and she stood on the threshold wrapped tightly in a faded quilt as if it were a suit of armor.

  This fear was something he’d noticed the second time he’d seen her at the diner, when she reluctantly sidled up to his table to take his order, trembling like a wet kitten. Afraid of him, as she always seemed to be. The cover story they had created for the town’s consumption had them waiting until they met her family in New Orleans to consummate their mating. Dennis knew this to be a lie. When he’d first been contacted by Pantheon, he’d ran his own background check on her. She was an orphan and had no family. She had no one to introduce them to. No one to give her their blessing on the upcoming union.

  “Off the porch,” she said, her tone less frightened than before.

  The trembling wet kitten persona she’d had when she’d opened the door to him was gone. He cocked an eyebrow at her, then backed away and stepped off the porch.

  “Thank you,” she said, sounding annoyed, her eyes narrowed. “So, what is this message?”

  He paused for dramatic effect, wanting to savor the moment for as long as he could. She caught a chill, shivered, and wrapped the blanket tighter around herself.

  “It would be a shame if your money went ‘poof,’ wouldn’t it?” he asked.

  Her face went still, her expression unreadable.

  “I’m sorry, what did you say?” she sputtered, wrinkling her brows. She couldn’t believe what he’d said.

  “It would be a shame if your money–” he started again, only to be interrupted.

  “I think you’d better leave, Dennis,” she said, her eyes blazing in fury. He didn’t much like her using his first name. He wondered how much money had gone “poof.” Judging by the expression on her face, it must have been a lot.

  “I guess that means something to you, huh?” he asked her, taking great satisfaction in her obvious discomfort.

  She said nothing in return.

  “I have something else to add to that message,” he said, his voice low and menacing.

  Her eyebrows knit together. “What do you mean?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

  “You’d do well to reign in that fake fiancé of yours,” he said, enjoying the stricken expression on her face. “That’s right...I know your cover story is a lie. I don’t know what you’re doing here in Perdition, nor why Cermak brought you here, but I know it’s not because you’re mated, or even engaged to be married. As a matter of fact, I don’t think you even knew each other before a few days ago.”

  Her face morphed from fear to anger.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked, her voice tight.

  He chuckled. “It means that according to pack law, Phelan Cermak had no justification for threatening me, or hitting me, since he wasn’t protecting his mate bond to you. You know the punishment for assault against an officer of the law?”

  She shook her head slowly, eyeing him suspiciously.

  “Banishment,” he said simply. He felt a mean satisfaction when she blanched before a sad expression crossed her face.

  “Phelan–?” she started, but he interrupted her. He really didn’t want to be here if and when Cermak showed up. Dennis was ready to be done with this bit of business.
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  “You wouldn’t want to see Cermak banished, would you?”

  She continued to stare at him, still swaying a bit, and her lips parted. She was even more innocent-looking, delicate, as she shook her head slowly.

  Dennis donned his hat again, turned on his heel, preparing to leave.

  “Chief?”

  Dennis could barely contain his smile. She was buying this hook, line and sinker. He turned around again to look at her. She still had a slightly dazed expression on her face.

  “How much time do we have?” she slurred in a shaky rush, her face crumpled in pain.

  “No rush, really,” he said, keeping his hat on. “You don’t want to attract too much attention, so I’d wait until after homecoming. But don’t wait too long.”

  She nodded. Her shoulders sagged and her eyes were downcast. He had to quash the buzz of elation that coursed through his body.

  He turned again to leave, a broad smile stretched across his lips. He wished he could be around when Phelan found out she was gone. He’d be sure to let Juno know she’d be leaving the day after the homecoming dance.

  His smile remained all the way to his police-issue SUV, parked some distance away in the small wooded area where the juvenile wolves he’d paid to run down Lola Black had laid in wait. No sense taking any unnecessary risks.

  Climbing in, he checked in with the deputy assigned to pack run duty and learned the runners had just returned to town.

  Let the fireworks begin.

  Chapter 39

  When she was sure Dennis was gone, Lola went inside the cabin, slamming the door behind her and locking it. She tore through her hobo bag, fished out her secret smartphone, and connected to her numbered bank account.

  What used to be a six-figure bank account was now a zero-figure bank account. She stared at the tiny screen in disbelief.