Mating Dance Read online

  “Ladies.” He gave them a weak smile, edging away from their table and closer to the counter.

  “Sander Burrows.” A lesser wolf would’ve fled howling at Miss Claire’s considering tone. Speculation gleamed in Miss Kathy’s eye, turning his knees watery. The whump of the kitchen door captured his attention, and he heaved a sigh of relief as he spied his sister-in-law. Seizing on the excuse to escape the increasing scrutiny of the matrons, he hurried over, grabbing Marjorie in an enthusiastic hug.

  “Margie, it’s so great to see you!” Go with it, sis. Please just go with it.

  “Oh, Sander! I was only gone a few minutes, is there a problem?” Marjorie laughed as she pulled back, although she kept a casual arm hooked around his waist. The sideways movement revealed the woman who had exited the kitchen behind her. His whole body came alive as the tangy-sweet scent that had teased him for days rolled through his senses like a heat wave. Blood swelled his cock, catching him by surprise. At least I’m wearing a long jacket.

  Familiar aqua eyes peered up from beneath scowling brows as he studied the source of the alluring scent. Wild blonde curls snarled around her head, her curves emphasized by the simplicity of her clothing, a white T-shirt covered in dirt and boot-cut jeans. Tiny feet clad in practical sneakers added nothing to her five foot five height. A warm smile curled his lips as he recognized the little hellion beneath the womanly guise. “Hey, Rory, it’s great to see you again.”

  The scowl didn’t soften in response to his greeting. If anything, it deepened as the small woman reared back as though struck. “I’ll see you later, Margie.” The words were a direct snub, and he moved away from Marjorie, blocking Rory’s path when she would have retreated.

  “Hold up a minute, honey. I haven’t been back in town five minutes. What can I possibly have done to upset you?” The restraining hand Marjorie placed on his arm should have warned him, but the fragrance that was uniquely Rory, fried his brain. The irrational anger she projected at him added a sharper undertone to her sweetness and rocked him on his heels. Rory Hanson was all grown up and Sander’s wolf was very happy about it.

  “What can you have possibly done to upset me? I see age hasn’t lessened your arrogance, honey.” The sarcasm dripping from her lips made him grin. Far from being deterred by it, Sander’s natural dominance rose to the challenge of her glare. He wanted to scoop the scruffy little woman up and turn her over his knee until all her anger melted into sweet compliance. He stepped closer, deliberately putting himself within her personal space, knowing she would feel the heat boiling off his skin. He wanted her to know his scent, yearn for it the way he suddenly yearned for hers. He wanted to rub all up against her until forest green and sweet fruit intermingled.

  Her scowl faltered to uncertainty, and she swayed toward him before retreating. Not liking the distance between them, he growled low, would’ve stepped close again had Marjorie not tightened her grip on his arm.

  “I thought you had a hot date tonight?” Rory’s cheeks flashed red as soon as she uttered the words, and he wondered where the hell the left field comment came from. She didn’t wait for his response. Turning on her heel, she marched for the door.

  He left it just long enough for her to think she was home free before he moved. Her hand froze on the door handle as he curled over her shoulder, pressing his weight against the palm he rested on the frame. She tugged ineffectually, her strength unable to compete with his, but he had to admire her effort. It didn’t hurt any that her movements rubbed the luscious curves of her ass against his rock-hard cock.

  Her breath came in little pants, the view over her shoulder of her ripe breasts heaving against the cotton of her shirt did nothing to calm his raging lust. Pressing his lips against the soft, pink shell of her ear, he whispered so his words wouldn’t carry beyond them. “I’ll only have a hot date tonight if you agree to take me home with you, honey.”

  Arousal bloomed in her scent before it was stifled in the waves of distress emanating from her. The sudden change dampened his ardor. He stepped back, breaking their intimate connection. She didn’t waste the opportunity. Tugging the door open, she was gone in a flash. Enjoying the view of her curvy behind for a few moments more, Sander grinned before closing the door.

  The hunt was on. His wolf howled in approval, fur rubbing hard against the inside of his skin. Deciding their prey could wait for now, he released the sexual tension knotting his shoulders and turned back to join his family. The decision to return to Los Lobos was proving to be a good one.

  Movement to his right caught his eye, and satisfaction shifted to dismay as he watched Miss Kathy beckoning him with one finger. Unable to avoid the irresistible tractor beam of the matrons’ full attention, he forced a smile as he returned to their table. With what could only be described as a purr of satisfaction, Miss Lonnie reached across to pat his hand. “We have a job for you, Sander….”

  ***

  It could have been a lot worse, he mused a week later as the truck bounced along the rutted path between the trees. “Path” gave the thinner section of undergrowth too much credit, and he was grateful for the loan of the four-wheel drive from his brother. The truck lurched as the offside front wheel hit a hidden pothole, and he gritted his teeth to avoid biting through his tongue. He rounded the corner. The sun burst through the thick canopy, revealing a small-but-sturdy cabin across a wide clearing. Tapping the brakes, Sander stopped the truck to stare in wonder at the vibrant display greeting him. Flowers of all types and colors flowed across the open area, a beautiful carpet. His heart lifted in simple joy at the sight of it. Succulents covered the roof of the cabin, a clever combination of drainage, insulation, and decoration. Hanging baskets swung from the overhang, bright balls of pansies, petunias, and geraniums trailing variegated ivy skirts.

  The cabin door opened, framing Rory as she raised a hand to shield her eyes. Her stance slipped from curious to closed off. He slid from the truck and adopted a casual pose, resting against the side of the hood. Tucking his hands in the front pocket of his oldest jeans, the denim bleached almost white with age, he bided his time. Planning his strategy on the long drive out, he had decided a combination of relaxed friendship interspersed with intense moments would be the best way to lure his feisty little quarry. The combination of her scent and the giveaway comment about his “hot date” made it clear Rory had been spying on him at the construction site. An enlightening conversation with Marjorie had filled in the rest of the blanks. Too dumb to consider the consequences of his actions, he’d given in to the wanderlust gnawing at him from his late teens onward. Throwing his clothes into a duffle, he’d stuck a note on his bed and hit the road, completely forgetting he’d agreed to act as escort for Rory at the Spring Dance all those years ago.

  His failure to show, combined with a hand-me-down unfashionable dress had left her the butt of the kind of cruelty only a group of teens was capable of. In spite of her tough exterior, he knew she was as soft as marshmallow on the inside, and guilt over his role in her humiliation bloomed bright. What had been nothing to him had clearly been everything to her. Time to make amends. His wolf was captivated and the man intrigued at the possibilities hiding beneath the flannel shirt and the scruffy hair. He wanted to take her to bed and watch her bloom like the flowers she so obviously loved. He kept his distance, not wanting to invade her territory more than he already had. Maintaining control over her environment would be important to such an independent wolf, and it would be an abuse of trust to use his superior dominance against her. So he waited. With a growl of frustration, she threw up her hands, stomped down the steps of the cabin and across the clearing.

  “What the floof are you doing here?” she snapped.

  “I’m your ride.” Sander waggled his eyebrows and gave her a comic leer. Stifling a grin as her cheeks flushed at the double meaning in his words, he pulled open the passenger door and swept into a low bow. “Your chariot, m’lady.”

  “I’m not going anywhere wi
th you, askhole!” Placing her hands on her hips only served to mold the flannel shirt closer, emphasizing her hourglass curves. He stayed in position, bent over, one arm folded across his waist, the other angled up and behind his back. Turning his gray eyes up to hers, he flashed another grin.

  “Miss Lonnie explained your disappointment at not being able to make it into town for the dance meetings and asked if I would help you out. It’s the least I can do for a fellow committee member.” Her jaw dropped so far open, he feared she would dislocate it. Straightening, he gestured to the open door of the truck. “It doesn’t pay to keep the matrons waiting.”

  Her gaping mouth snapped shut as she stared from him to the truck and back again. If memory served, it took some doing to shock Rory Hanson into silence, but apparently he’d achieved it. “The meeting starts at three and it’s already past two thirty.”

  She didn’t move, just continued to stare at him. Moving closer, he took her arm and guided her toward the vehicle. She climbed in without protest, turning to look at him through the open window. He pressed the door closed. Her plump lower lip glistened, inviting a wolf with an inclination to nibble on it before drawing it between his lips. And he was very inclined.

  He forced himself to move back. Brushing the front of the truck in his haste to join her in the confines of the vehicle, he climbed into his seat. She turned her head to study him, as he snapped his seat belt on and started the engine. “I didn’t agree to this. I didn’t agree to any of this,” she whispered. Her tone of defeat hurt his heart, and he tried to lighten the mood.

  “It’s the matrons. They’re like the Borg.” He wondered if she would get the joke, his time living amongst the humans had left him with an addiction to certain TV shows like Star Trek. He didn’t remember a television from the few visits he’d made up to the cabin when they were kids though. Thankfully, the stupid joke did the trick, and her shuttered expression lightened as she mimicked his action and fixed her belt.

  “Resistance is futile.” She giggled, giving him a brief considering look through her lashes. She folded her hands in her lap. The movement drew his eyes to the scars on her right hand, to the tiny stumps of her missing digits. They had always been a part of her. Although some saw it as a weakness, Rory included, to him it was a symbol of her strong will to survive. She tucked the three remaining fingers deeper under her left hand, and he bit back a growl. Turning his attention away from her, he backed the truck out of the clearing. Once Rory was his mate, he would make damn sure she never felt awkward or embarrassed about anything to do with herself.

  Mate? Golden wolf eyes flashed as he flicked a glance at the rearview mirror. Her cranberry-and-vanilla scent warmed the interior of the cab, curling around his senses, settling into the deepest recesses of his being.

  So be it.

  Chapter Four

  The scent of pine trees in winter filled her nose. Rory fought the urge to twist her head and bury her nose in the crook of his neck. The collar of the red-and-navy-striped polo shirt he wore was folded down, the buttons open, revealing an expanse of golden-brown skin. The brown curls she had always loved were just starting to show as his severe haircut grew out. Those same gray eyes, bracketed now by soft laughter lines, deepened to wet slate when she laughed at his joke. Gathering the shreds of her long-held resentment closer, she withdrew from the warmth she saw shining there.

  It was too late for him to show an interest in her now. Is it? The wolf inside whispered and she shushed it sternly. That little traitor had always been keen to bare her throat to the dominant wolf looming large in every aspect of Sander’s persona. She caught his eyes resting on her scars and automatically tucked the lame hand from sight. Hating feeling so exposed under his scrutiny, she turned toward the side window, watching the tree line as they bounced down the rough track toward town. The silence between them stretched as he steered carefully along the rutted path. He seemed content, concentrating on the path ahead, but the hairs on the back of her neck rose every time his eyes flicked in her direction.

  Desperate to break the tension, she spoke. “So what have you been roped into doing for the dance?” She’d already conceded to handling the decorations. The matrons had outflanked her. By providing what seemed to be a perfectly reasonable solution to her transportation issues, they had backed her into a corner. If she made a fuss about Sander coming to fetch her, it would only draw more attention. They would ask why she didn’t want to be around him. The last thing she needed was them thinking she had any feelings toward him.

  “Ryker and his team are busy with the increased patrols so they’ve asked me to plan the security arrangements. I’m happy to do it as it will give me an opportunity to study the changes around town since I left.” A lot had changed in the years he’d been away. Thriving homes had been abandoned to the elements by families fleeing persecution. Shops and stores stood empty, although recent arrivals were making inroads into reviving a number of businesses. New homes had sprung up, too, as Ross and his team worked hard to provide shelter for the influx of new arrivals. The recent spate of fires had destroyed more than just the barn as well.

  “How will you fit that in around the construction work at the hall?” She shifted in her seat, studying the hard lines of his strong frame as he steered the truck down the hill.

  “Oh I’m just grunt labor there. Stefan wanted to keep me busy, and I was happy to lend a hand. I’ll still pull shifts when he needs me, but there are plenty of skilled carpenters around who are better placed than me to do the technical stuff.” A haunted look filled his eyes, and a deep frown marred his brow. His scent changed, an acrid thread marring the cool, clean fragrance. “I used to be a cop, but there’s not much call for that here.”

  She nodded in understanding. Pack worked differently than the human world. The enforcer was in charge of protection, and he appointed his own team of trusted dominants and scouts. It would take time for a returnee like Sander to prove himself, to gain enough trust for one of those roles.

  “I don’t know what my purpose is anymore, Rory. I needed to come home, but now I’m here….” Pain and uncertainty filled his voice, unlike anything she remembered of the brash young man he’d been. So many years had passed, and he was different now. His face had lost its boyish softness, all hard planes and angles. His body had filled out, thickened through the shoulders, giving solidity to him.

  Thinking about his body, she flashed back to the feel of him pressing up against her the previous evening. The solid, reassuring weight plastered over her back, the nudge of his cock against her ass. She closed her eyes as a rush of arousal arrowed into her belly, making it clench. She jabbed the button on the armrest to lower her window, the blast of cool air good against her flaming cheeks. A soft growl rose next to her and she squeezed her eyes shut. She hadn’t been swift enough to clear the change in her scent from the confined space.

  He braked hard, the sudden movement bumping her against the side of the cab. She kept her eyes screwed shut. If she concentrated hard enough, perhaps she could teleport like some of the characters in her favorite books could do. A soft metallic click, a whisper of cotton, and warm breath bathed her neck. He was right there, filling up her space again, stealing the oxygen from her lungs. Her wolf whimpered, betraying their interest, and she knew he was close enough to hear her heart thunder in her chest. Frozen in place like a rabbit mesmerized in the presence of a predator, she waited. And waited. Nothing stirred in the cab other than the tangle of hair covering her neck as his steady breath tickled it against her skin. Anticipation built. She wanted to squirm at the tingle rising between her thighs.

  “Look at me.” Although soft, his tone brooked no resistance, and she flicked open one lid to peer at him. Gold shone in his eyes, the wolf studying his prey. He blinked and the gold washed back to dark gray. The force of passion she read there was more intense than even his wolf gaze. His tongue slicked across his lower lip. She watched in fascination as it slid lazily back and forth
before disappearing again. “You and me, Rory.” His words were a claim of possession, a declaration of intent.

  “No,” she whispered, her voice shaky.

  “Yes.” A statement of absolute fact. If she’d fancied herself in love with him as a girl, this new version of Sander had the ability to devour her heart in a single bite. She fumbled for the release handle. Flinging the door open, she made a bid for freedom. Unlike him, though, she had forgotten about her safety belt and the mechanism arrested her flight, pinning her back against the seat. Panic fluttered beneath her breastbone as she scrabbled for the lock, rising sharply as he grasped her damaged hand and held it firm in his grip. Reaching across her with his other hand, he closed her door, trapping her between the cool metal and the wicked heat of his body.

  Those slate-gray eyes never left hers as he raised her hand to his lips, tracing the scars with soft kisses. His gentle movements spoke of a well of tenderness she was terrified to tap. “I won’t hurt you, honey.” Sincerity shone in his eyes. He pressed a kiss in the center of her palm before placing her hand in her lap. Her fingers curled, trying to capture and hold onto the promise he’d placed there. She wanted to believe. She wanted so much to believe all her childish hopes and fantasies had come to life at last.

  Opening her mouth to acquiesce, to reach for this magical gift he offered, the ghosts of the past took advantage of her vulnerability. Harsh laughter and taunts rippled down the years, whispering in her mind words of rejection and mockery. He edged closer, his lips an inch from hers as those old insecurities took control. “You already did,” she whispered. Her wolf whined as he pulled back, as though her words dealt him a physical blow.