The Wolf's Concubine

by Erin St. Charles

  Bubba may have been cool with Phelan bringing their witness to Perdition in order to convince her to mate with him, but Bubba was wolf and Lola was not. Phelan had almost lost it when his father told him the story of his mother’s mating by capture. How had he never heard that before? Judging by Lola’s visceral reaction against such a thing, he wasn’t looking forward to the mating conversation. For most of her life, Lola hadn’t had many people she could rely on. Now she trusted him. What would happen when she realized her trust had been misplaced?

  He had brought her to Perdition for her safety, he reminded himself. That wasn’t totally false. A niggle of guilt wormed through his mind. He wasn’t sure Lola would see it that way.

  He rolled his shoulders, snapped out of his self-pitying thoughts and pulled his woman onto his lap. She beamed and settled against his chest. Her body was small, but tough. Soft, but strong.

  Twyla and Jasmine had organized a silent auction, the proceeds of which would benefit the Foundlings Thrift Store. Lola sewed and donated several pairs of leggings to the auction, and the donation was being promoted as “couture leggings by renowned Dallas designer Dolores Black.” Phelan had watched in fascination that afternoon as Lola quickly cut and sewed five pairs of leggings, longer than the ones she usually wore in order to accommodate shifter females.

  “So, what’s this I hear about drinking and carrying on when I was in Dallas?” AJ jangled a small glass of amber liquid and ice before taking a sip. He eyed Jasmine, who had her back turned to him, ignoring him in favor of watching the karaoke performances. He dipped his fingers into his drink, fished out an ice cube, and held it to the back of his woman’s neck.

  Lola and Phelan laughed when Jasmine yelped and hunched her shoulders in surprise, and spun around in her chair.

  “Do you mind!” Jasmine gave AJ her best hairy eyeball while he feigned innocence.

  “It wasn’t like that–” Lola began and stopped abruptly when Phelan squeezed her thigh under the table. He shifted his hips subtly, settling Lola onto the semi he was sporting. She turned to look at him with a guarded expression, then tried to wiggle away. His hand tightened on her thigh.

  Jasmine’s eyes darted around the table, apparently trying to pick up the conversational thread from her tablemate’s expressions. She must have been really absorbed in the karaoke and had missed AJ’s question.

  “What wasn’t like that? What are we talking about?” Jasmine demanded.

  Lola burst out laughing, her face lighting up with amusement at her clueless friend.

  “We were good girls.” Lola stirred her drink, a Shirley Temple, and took a sip. “We made a bunch of mums, and got to know each other. You have quite a fine lady there.”

  Not as fine as my lady

  Lola’s dress had a puffy skirt, and Phelan snaked his fingers underneath. This time when he squeezed her leg, it was skin-to-skin. She jumped. Then gave him an elbow nudge and shot him a chastening look, her meaning clear– knock it out, lover boy.

  But Phelan wasn’t having it, and he slid his hand up her thigh, his fingers headed for her secret garden. This was the first time she’d worn a garment that provided this kind of access, and he was determined to make the most of it. Not to mention the fact that she’d spent the afternoon sewing, not “chopping wood” as they had originally planned. As much as he enjoyed showing her off in public, he was ready to get her home and have her to himself.

  “You ready to leave yet?” he whispered in her ear, stroking her back. It was impossible for him not to touch her when she was near. Lola gave him a peck on the lips and tried to get up, but he wouldn’t let go.

  “Hey, get a room, you two!” AJ said, grinning. “This is a family establishment.”

  As Lola struggled playfully on Phelan’s lap, Twyla went to the stage to announce winning bids for the silent auction. Lola’s mouth fell open in surprise at the princely sum paid for her donation.

  “I can’t believe someone would pay that much for my leggings!” she exclaimed, beaming with pride. Phelan hugged her waist and gave her a peck on the cheek.

  “I’d like to acknowledge the Perdition Pack’s newest member,” Twyla announced from the stage, “who so generously donated her custom designs to the silent auction, Ms. Lola Black!”

  Lola’s face reddened as all eyes turned to her. Phelan liked that she was currently perched on his lap for all to see.

  “Get up and let everyone have a look at you!” Jasmine made “get up” motions with her hands and smiled encouragingly. Lola got to her feet, smiled and nodded to the crowd shyly. His heart was ready to burst with pride. Twila took up the mic again for another announcement and Phelan grabbed Lola and tried to pull her back onto his lap. She sidestepped him.

  “I’m going to powder my nose,” she told him with a smile, and then left the table carrying the small bag she’d brought with her to the event. He had persuaded her to leave the hobo in the truck. As he watched her petite form head for the back of the function room, Phelan had but one overarching thought.

  Mine.

  At least until he came clean to her. Then, all bets were off and his groveling would commence. He settled back in his chair, draped a napkin over his inconvenient erection, and sighed.

  Chapter 44

  Something had changed. Chief Dennis had never met Juno face to face, but there was something in her demeanor when he received her call that made him think she was somehow running out of time. Her tone, usually so measured and steady, was clipped and impatient.

  “Chief, I need a status update,” she told him.

  “Ma’am, I don't understand–” he started, only to be abruptly cut off.

  “Did you give her the message?” Juno demanded.

  Dennis found Juno’s attitude puzzling. She did not seem to be the type of woman given to impulsivity, and it hadn’t even been forty-eight hours since she requested the message be delivered. He paused before answering.

  “Ma’am, the message has been delivered,” Dennis said, trying to think through what had Juno so agitated.

  “How did she react?” Juno said, pressing for more details.

  “I wouldn’t say she was happy about it,” he told her cautiously.

  “We’re so close–” she started, then stopped herself. She let out a sigh so hard and loud that Dennis could almost feel her breath on his ear.

  Dennis waited, listened, and wondered if Juno would say more. There was silence on her end, then finally she spoke.

  “Make sure she understands what’s at stake. If she wants her money back, she’ll have to come to Dallas to get it.” Juno’s voice was strained, with an undercurrent of desperation.

  Dennis had a feeling this operation was bigger than Lola’s stolen money. Bigger than his long-standing grudge against the Cermaks. The tone of Juno’s voice conveyed an urgency born of something much more personal than money.

  Dennis was mostly a petty man, but sensed an opportunity for even greater reward for the help he would give Juno than the woman was currently offering. Possibly a reward more valuable than money. Juno had something on the line that was important enough to be personal, and Dennis had the opportunity to do something for Pantheon that was this important. One of the gods might actually owe him a favor as a result of completing this task for Juno.

  When Dennis responded, he was careful to keep his bubbling excitement from his voice. Dennis, petty and mean, managed to sound reassuring when he spoke again.

  “Ma’am, I’ll take care of it,” he told her. “I’ll take care of it tonight.”

  Dennis disconnected the call. He sat up in his desk chair, got to his feet, reached for his hat and exited his office.

  He knew exactly where Lola was, and he knew exactly what he’d say to motivate her to leave. There was an element of risk with his plan because where Lola was, so was Phelan Cermak.

  Dennis jogged down the steps of the police station, buoyancy in his step, as he headed for St. Ailbe’s.

  Chapter 45

&nb
sp; Lola heard Twyla announcing more silent auction sales as she made her way to the restroom. She was in a great mood. Tonight was the first time she had ever been recognized for her design work, and the fact that the recognition had come without the security blanket of her savings was not lost on her. She had no doubt she would get her money situation straightened out, but the first time in her life, she realized the path to her dreams might be different than what she expected.

  She wasn't just the orphaned street urchin. She wasn't just the bar girl, the failed concubine. She was Lola Black, designer of whimsical fashions for women.

  What was more, a touristy pack town like Perdition could very well be the ideal place to start her business. After the party, she and Phelan would have a heart-to-heart about their next steps as a couple.

  Lola did her business in the ladies’ room, washed her hands, and stepped back into the corridor to return to the party when a familiar sensation rolled up her spine.

  Danger. Dread.

  Her prey instinct gripped her, smothered her like a wet wool blanket. She had no weapons to defend herself with. No Omni to use to call for help. Phelan was in the function room way down at the other end of the corridor, and she had no way to communicate with him.

  “Hello? Who's there?” Her voice echoed off the walls of the empty corridor. In a town wall to wall with nosey shifters, how could there be no one around to help her?

  Stay calm... Stay calm...

  She repeated the mantra over and over in her head as she carefully made her way down the hall. She could see the double doors of the function room far down the corridor, the long, skinny windows that abutted the doors casting the muted colors of the party on the tile floor.

  A few feet from the doors, she felt a presence a behind her and whirled around, braced for an attack.

  Standing in the half light, his eyeshine glowing, was Chief Dennis Lauder.

  Her hand flew to her chest and she gasped.

  “Ch— Chief Dennis?” She forced herself not to tremble as she looked him straight in the eye. “You frightened me.”

  “Sorry about that, darlin’.” The chief’s eyes glowed with malicious intent, and his face twisted into a mean grin. Lola didn’t know what it was about him that tripped her prey instinct, and she didn't believe for a moment that he was sorry.

  “Don’t be afraid of me, darlin’,” he said, faking a good old boy demeanor. His sudden movement to remove his hat had her flinching. She shrank away from him.

  “I'm not going to hurt you,” he told her. The man had almost a foot on her and he tried to use his size to intimidate her.

  “You're not going to hurt me because I won't let you.” She stiffened her spine and raised her chin in defiance.

  “Now don't be that way, Dolores Black,” he said, his voice saccharine sweet. “I just came by to see how you were getting along. I expect you'll be headed to Dallas soon?”

  Her eyes narrowed at his use of her full name. He wanted to run her off, but she wasn't having it.

  “That's my business, Chief,” she said, her voice dismissive. “My mate is part of the pack, so now I’m part of the pack. I'm part of the pack now, Chief. You can't tell me what to do.”

  This asshat wanted to run her away from her home. Well, fuck him.

  The chief’s smile faltered, and she felt a zing of triumph.

  “Well now, I guess I wasn't clear the other night when we had our little chat,” he said.

  “You were very clear,” she told him. “However, I’m not a fourteen-year-old boy who stole your girlfriend. Your daddy can’t just banish me or Phelan. We are fated mates. I don't know everything there is to know about pack law, but I do know messing with a mating bond can get you banished.”

  His eyes gleamed and his face darkened with rage.

  “See here. I know you’re not really mated. You’re on the run, missy, and you’re trying to use pack law to get away from whatever is after you.”

  How would he know she was on the run?

  Something must have shown on her face, and the chief seized upon her change in demeanor.

  “Did he say you needed to stay here for your protection? Or did he tell you he was your fated mate in order to get close to you?”

  This had her pulling up short as she considered the possibility that she might have been able to go home at any time. But if it was safe to go back, Phelan would have told her... wouldn’t he?

  “Do you know for a fact that you can’t go back to Dallas?” he asked, leaning back on one hip and peering at her with a smug expression on his face.

  The double doors opened before she could reply.

  Several people spilled out of the room, laughing and leaning against one another drunkenly. The music blared, and just like that, her fear dissipated. When she whirled around again, Chief Dennis was gone. She leaned against the wall and heaved a ragged sigh. Then she slid down the wall and crouched on her haunches. Her body wanted to go utterly limp, but she forced herself to resist.

  Phelan had told her it wasn’t safe to go back to Dallas. Phelan, and no one else.

  She had trusted him implicitly. But maybe she shouldn’t have.

  The door squeaked again. She looked up, and into the eyes of her fated mate.

  “Lola? You okay?” He pulled her to her feet, embraced her, then held her away from him to examine her. He looked worried, his brow furrowed, his eyes hooded. Then he looked perplexed. He raised his head as if catching a scent. He looked at her again and cocked his head. His lip curled and a growl erupted from the back of his throat.

  “Where is he?”

  Seriously?

  He started down the corridor, following Chief Dennis’s scent. She grabbed his jacket sleeve and he dragged her along. She had never seen him so angry.

  “Phelan–”

  “I warned him to stay away from you. I told him there would be consequences.”

  “Please, Phelan! Wait!”

  But it was like he was a raging bull, seeing red, enraged beyond the capacity to see reason. Or like he was defending his territory.

  She let go of him then, paralyzed by the notion she was nothing more than territory to be marked, defended on principle, and not because of her. Not because he loved her. He kept moving, headed for the doors leading outside, intent on his mission to accost Dennis. She stopped, considered what to do, then ran after him.

  When he stepped into the cold night air, she was hot on his heels.

  She grabbed for Phelan’s sleeve again, stumbled, but held on fast. She had to know. She had to know if Dennis was telling the truth, if Phelan had semi-kidnapped her and kept her from all she knew, all her goals, to play games with her. She was tired of the futile chase of the life she wanted. She was tired of being denied the things she desired in life. If she was going to be denied this time, she was sure as hell going to get answers.

  Was she an idiot for trusting him? Was she an idiot for falling in love with him?

  “Was it a game?” she screamed at him through tears. “Were you playing games with me?”

  That made him stop in his tracks. They were close to a firefly willow. It illuminated their faces so that when he turned his angry gaze on her, she caught his blazing eyeshine. His mouth gaped and he looked at her with incredulity.

  “What?” He was growling again, practically snarling at her.

  “Were you playing games when you lied and told me it wasn’t safe to go back to Dallas?” she screamed at him, hoping against a lifetime of instinct and experience he was the one person in her life she could trust.

  Hoping he’d take her in his arms and tell her he loved her.

  Hoping he’d say he would never betray her trust and keep her from the home and life she was building for herself after a lifetime of belonging nowhere.

  Hoping he’d say he would never lie to her about something so important.

  Instead, he only looked at her. His anger ebbed away. She could see it in the softening of his features. Then the tendernes
s gave way to an expression of utter defeat. His emotions slammed into her, nauseating guilt poured off him in waves.

  The emotional bond that had formed between them told her a story without words. For a person who couldn’t trust easily, such an empathic bond was both a feature and a bug.

  She was hurt, sad, defeated and angry. Oh, so angry.

  She brushed past him. In a series of quick, jerky motions, she stomped over to the truck, wrenched the passenger door open, and grabbed her hobo. When she whirled around to look at him, he stood there like a dummy, a stricken expression across his features.

  She tossed the bag over her shoulder without sparing him another glance and marched off in the direction of the Glide station.

  Chapter 46

  Lola was pissed. There was no way around that. Phelan had no idea what to do about it. He was one-hundred percent in the wrong, and he wasn’t sure even groveling could fix it.

  Not knowing what else to do, he followed behind her in his truck as she walked to the Glide station in town. He stayed a few paces behind her, outside of range should she decide to lob projectiles at him. He abandoned pursuit of Chief Dennis. The man was a weasel, but he was also a daddy’s boy, and was unlikely to leave Perdition before Phelan could catch up to him and give him a beat down.

  At the station, he parked the truck, then approached her with caution as she waited for the 10:15 pm train in the heated enclosure. She was still wearing her little strapless dress, and once she burned off all that anger, she would be cold. And the switchblade she’d used to defend herself from the changeling had been confiscated at the agency and was no doubt locked in the safe they kept for contraband weapons.

  She would be cold, unarmed, and probably hungry. She needed him.

  The station was all but deserted, completely automated, and entirely self-serve. Phelan took a seat inside as far away from her as possible.

  He cleared his throat.