Mating Dance Page 9

  “It must be déjà vu, for you.” Carolina’s voice dripped in sympathy, but she didn’t fool Rory for a second. There was no way the woman would pass up an opportunity to get her own back, and she proved it with her next words. “At least, last time he stood you up, you had the good grace to go home. Poor Marjorie must be fed up with you hanging around like a bad smell.”

  Rory waited for the rush of embarrassment to heat her cheeks, but it never came. She really didn’t care what this pathetic woman thought of her. Her friends and family were all that mattered. Sander was all that mattered. He is a good mate; we can trust him. The reassurance from her wolf stiffened her spine, and she stepped around the three women, intent on going back to the dance.

  “Don’t you walk away from me!” Sharp nails dug into her forearm as Carolina made a grab for her. Her voice was loud enough to draw attention, and people drifted from the main hall into the lobby. Rory watched them gather. Some of their expressions reflected concern but most were there to enjoy the spectacle.

  “Take your hand off me, Carolina.” The colors and shades of the lobby shifted as her wolf surged forward, her voice a growled threat. “I’ll only tell you once.” She refused to turn, giving her back to the other woman in a deliberate insult. She held still, although her wolf snarled at the restraining hold.

  “Rory.”

  The watching eyes, the sharp nails stinging her arm, old ghosts trying to shred her confidence were all forgotten as her mate called to her. Shaking off Carolina, she turned toward the open door as a familiar silhouette came into focus and Sander stepped into the lobby. He looked gorgeous. His charcoal pinstriped suit darkened his eyes to slate. A tall blond man, notable for his casual clothes amongst all the finery, stood just behind him.

  Sander ushered the man forward and a gasp rose from the small crowd behind Rory, followed by a sob of disbelief. “Erik?”

  The man dropped his rucksack on the floor and flew across the lobby, catching the crying woman tight against him. “Julia. Julia.” He pressed his lips against her hair as they rocked together, tears flowing.

  “Dad!” Daniel hurled himself at the pair, and they opened their arms to cuddle their son close.

  Rory started at the brush against her cheek, turning into the warm strength of her mate. “I’m sorry, honey.” He kissed her brow, her cheek, her jaw, as she pressed against the hard heat of his body.

  “You’re here now,” she breathed into his mouth. He claimed her in a searing kiss. Blood rushed to her head, making her clutch at the lapels on his jacket to keep upright. Burying his hand deep in her hair, he ruined the careful waves as he tilted her head to the perfect angle to ravish her lips. The throb of his erection pressed against her stomach, and she stretched on tiptoe, trying to get it to rub against more interesting places.

  “Don’t make me fetch a bucket of water, you two.” The acerbic tones of Miss Kathy broke them apart. Rory struggled to catch her breath, turning away from Sander’s lipstick-smeared mouth before she started to giggle. “You found him, then?” Miss Kathy continued, her dark eyes fixed on Sander.

  “I couldn’t have done it without your assistance. I want to thank you for speaking to Ryker and Saja for me.” Sincerity shone in her mate’s eyes, and the older woman waved him off with a grin.

  “I get damn tired of this town thinking my nephew is the Bogeyman. I remember when Erik vanished nigh on three years ago. Magnum was madder than a snake by then, taking against anyone and everyone. Ryker did what he could against that damn blood oath, never killed anyone unless expressly ordered to do so.” The old woman harrumphed, tossing her silver-black braid over her shoulder. “Come on, girls. Let’s show these youngsters how to move.”

  The matrons returned to the main hall, shooing the remnants of the crowd before them. Sander took Rory by the hand and tugged her after them, but she stayed him with a soft touch on his arm. “What’s the matter, honey? I know I’m late but we’ve still got time for a dance.”

  All the years she had waited for this moment, to prove to herself and everyone else she was worthy of his attention, and yet somehow it didn’t matter one bit. “I want you to hold me in your arms, Sander, but not on the dance floor.”

  A sexy smile tilted the corner of his mouth as he scooped her into his arms and turned toward the exit. Rory rested her head against his shoulder, utterly content.

  There was, after all, more than one type of mating dance.

  Matchmaker, Matchmaker, Make them a match…

  With Drew’s reign settling the hills, wolves are returning to the Black Hills. Wolves who need mates. The pack needs to grow, right?

  So four of the surviving matrons take it upon themselves to set up couples. Question is, how do these ladies decide who to match? Whichever unattached wolf they see first, from a list, or do they just draw a name from a bag?

  Their method doesn’t matter, but you can bet they’ll call in favors, make behind-the-scenes plans, and pull whatever strings or stunts required to put wolves together in the name of furthering the pack. And who knows? They might even set their sights on the cantankerous lone bear, Gee….

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  A Mate’s Redeeming Touch by Merryn Dexter

  Chapter One

  A force of nature, more power than grace, the gray wolf pounded through the trees. His scent overlaid the familiar route, providing a territorial marker and guiding his passage. He twisted through the towering pines, sending a shower of pebbles flying as he loped up an incline and down toward a clearing in the trees.

  The click of his claws on the stones, the whisper of the breeze through the trees, and the splash of water in the nearby river were the only sounds. Birds and other forest dwellers fell silent in his path, and his tongue lolled out in a grin as he barreled along. Top of the food chain, predator elite, no creature in the vicinity could offer him challenge. He was magnificent, a dominant in his prime, the undisputed master of his surroundings, king of all he survey….

  “Hey, kiddo.”

  The wolf drew up so sharply, his rear paws collapsed beneath him, leaving him sitting like a fucking lapdog at the feet of Gee Rivermoon, bear shifter, enigma, and one huge burr in his fur. At six foot seven, Gee was one of the very few men associated with the Tao pack who over-topped him in his two-legged form.

  The wolf had very little time for two-legs these days. He could patrol more efficiently as a wolf. Two-legs had an annoying habit of talking, something he preferred to avoid in either of his forms. The bear gave him a look he recognized all too well from his wayward youth. Gee had something to say, and he’d better damn well listen.

  “We need to talk, Ven.”

  Being right sucked ass. The wolf growled and retreated a few steps from the huge shifter.

  “Shift.” Gee spoke softly, but his thick arms were folded in a take-no-nonsense stance. The wolf curled a lip and growled his defiance again, making sure to be out of swiping range first in case the bear decided he’d pushed his luck. A sharp scent caught his attention, and his head whipped around to face the new threat. A large reddish wolf paced from beneath the pines, the flecks of gold in his thick fur catching the sun as he prowled closer. Ven shifted his position until he could watch both the bear and the approaching wolf. The Enforcer had come for him.

  He was royally fucked. Wolf burger with a side order of those nasty fried pickles Gee loved to dish up in his bar.

  Lowering his massive bulk, he adopted a stance close enough to deferential to get away with it.
Tension vibrated through him as he braced for the first sign of attack. A shimmer in the air caught him off guard as the reddish wolf transformed into his human form. Why would he shift to a weaker form if he’s come to kill me?

  Ryker rose to his feet, long black hair drifting gently in the breeze doing nothing to soften the stark planes of his face. The blunt features and black eyes spoke of their shared Native American heritage, but the Enforcer was no brother to Ven. Angling his body to mirror Gee’s, face expressionless, Ryker spoke a single word.

  “Shift.”

  The dominance in the command rolled across the open space toward him, compelling the most instinctive part of his makeup. Ven reached for his human form, shocked when his wolf resisted his command. He gave a hard mental shove and tried again but his animal snarled its defiance inside his mind. Digging deep, he tried again.

  And again.

  Panic rose as the wolf refused to shift and Ven cast around the clearing, keeping his head down to avoid eye contact. If the Enforcer thinks I’m deliberately disobeying him…. The trickle of water over rocks caught his attention and he loped quickly over to the river. It ran slow and smooth here and the surface barely rippled as he stared into the reflective surface.

  The black-eyed wolf, the other half of his soul, regarded him, lips curled away to reveal sharp white teeth, thick gray hackles raised across his shoulders. This is how we should be, always. Strong, protected, invulnerable. The wolf held firm and a ripple of fear struck Ven.

  Focusing hard, he looked beyond the reflection as he pictured himself in human form. Long dark hair secured off his face with two braids, dark skin like burnished mahogany, black eyes set deep above a sharp, proud nose. Full lips twisted in a perpetual sneer above his pointed chin. Once he had his face set, the rest of his image snapped into place. He was a big man, maybe an inch or so shorter than Ryker, but thicker through the chest and solid muscle.

  With a grunt of effort, he forced his wolf down far enough to transition to his human form. The shift seemed to take forever and sweat soaked his skin by the end of it. Crouching on the ground, lungs sawing with effort, he scooped one hand into the water of the river and splashed his face. The shocking cold chased away the last vestiges of fear, and he became aware of the two men standing close by.

  Hating the vulnerability of kneeling before them he shoved hard to his feet, ignoring the ache in his muscles. He staggered. Gee grabbed his arm in a meaty fist, preventing a humiliating tumble onto his naked ass. Naked ass. Where the hell are my clothes? He’d never not manifested his clothing during his shift before. Not all wolves could do it, but he had the ability to shift without stripping down to his skin.

  “How long had you been wolf?” Ryker spoke in a mild, deceptive tone. Never one to shout, his calm, measured voice turned Ven’s blood to ice.

  Brow furrowed, he tried to remember when he’d last stood on two legs and found he couldn’t place it exactly. There had been the first dusting of snow on the ground. Now the trail edges were a sea of yellow flowers, early spring sunshine bringing the meadow zizia into full glory.

  Tugging his arm free from Gee’s grip, he braced his bare feet to make sure he held his stance. Since childhood, his best form of defense had always been attack and he channeled the ever-present well of anger bubbling in his gut. Better to be angry than scared. His lack of awareness of the passing of time seriously spooked him. He twisted his upper lip into a sneer, an expression he’d perfected and wore like a shield.

  “What the fuck difference does it make? I run my patrols. I keep this northern section safe. Why do you care whether I do it as wolf or man?” His belligerence was legendary amongst the pack. Whatever else people called him, and they had a few prime choices, Ven would never be called a people-person. Or a wolf’s-wolf.

  What-the-fuck-ever.

  “It makes a difference when it takes you ten minutes to shift. It makes a difference when I have to put you in a hole in the ground because you forget your humanity and go rogue.” Ryker’s tone never altered throughout his speech. And, for a wolf who rationed the words he used to the point of being monosyllabic, two sentences counted as a speech.

  Shock rippled through Ven. Ten minutes to shift? Flicking his horrified gaze to Gee, the sympathy shining brightly in the old bear’s eyes morphed Ven’s horror to anger. He hated pity more than anything else. Disdain, anger, disappointment rolled off his back like water. Pity carried ghosts of the past. Ghosts the pack seemed determined he should never forget.

  He’d had a gutful of it when his feckless parents abandoned him, leaving a confused eleven-year-old to cope with the vicious rigors of pack life under Magnum Tao. And the very unwelcome attentions of his Uncle Silas. He had learned too young and too often the one lesson he needed to survive. Keeping the nasty bastards in life from attacking meant becoming the meanest of the lot.

  The ghosts rose, the way they always did when he lowered his guard. Foul breath huffed against his neck. Jagged nails scraped against his skin. His stomach heaved in reaction. He clamped his jaw tight, grinding his teeth to hold in the pathetic whimper crawling up his throat. Never again. Never. Again. The litany echoed in his head until the roiling in his gut subsided.

  “It’s time to change your mission, and now that I’ve seen you, I’m worried we have left it too long.” Ryker’s deep voice chased the last cobwebs of memory away. He glared in the direction of the Enforcer, although he kept his eyes averted to the left. Ryker raised an eyebrow and Ven lowered his head farther as his wolf strained hard to be free again. The wildness of his other half rode him hard. A sprinkling of hair flashed and receded along his arms as he battled the urge to shift.

  Gee spoke, his deep voice a gruff but welcome diversion. “The gas station on the approach into town has been ruined too long. We can’t afford to leave any part of our territory unprotected. Given the recent murders, Drew has ordered all remote members of the pack to be rotated closer to home.”

  “Murders?” The word blurted from between his lips. His lack of awareness prompted a long meeting of eyes between the bear and the Enforcer. Embarrassment prickled his neck. The silent disapproval of the two had been a regular feature of his youth. At thirty, he couldn’t keep screwing up this badly. What the fuck had been happening in town? How the fuck did I lose track of an entire season?

  He forced the unease down and focused on the rest of Gee’s words. The gas station stood at the opposite end of pack territory. Its position about ten miles out on the only road into town made it the last place Ven wanted to visit. The road meant people, the gas station meant people stopping. And talking. He shuddered at the very idea of it.

  “What does the gas station have to do with me?” Ven had a sneaking suspicion about the direction of the conversation, and he didn’t like the sound of it.

  “Your new assignment is to refurbish and run the gas station.” Ryker spoke this time. He and Gee were a regular conversational tag team.

  “Fuck, no!” He couldn’t suppress the snarled words. Fisting his hands, claws dug and cut into his flesh as his wolf battered against his skin, fighting to be free. The fury and force of its challenge for dominance nearly dropped him to his knees.

  “Don’t make me do it.” The Enforcer’s expression remained unreadable, but Ven knew he’d crossed the line. Crossed it hard.

  Gee reached out and touched Ryker on the shoulder and the Enforcer swung away, striding toward the tree line. “Explain it, Gee.” His soft voice carried easily. The air shimmered, like heat haze on the horizon and the man departed in a flash of autumn-colored fur as he raced into the shadows beneath the pines.

  Ven glanced at Gee, hating the sympathy once again written on his face.

  “It’s a good idea, Ven. Whether you realize it or not, you need to reconnect with the pack.” The big man shifted his stance, subtly creating distance between them that gave Ven a chance to leash the wolf tighter. “As the town grows, the traffic into Los Lobos is increasing and w
e need someone we can trust guarding the road. Rumors are spreading into the local community as the demand for supplies draws attention. We need you there to keep an eye on who is coming into town and to act as a sentry point. Strangers tend to stop there and fill up, check for directions, grab a cold soda. Your job will be to discourage the curious. With your winning personality, you’ll be perfect for the job.”

  Hotheaded he might be, but no one had ever called Ven stupid. He read the underlying message in the words the bear didn’t speak. It was a test of loyalty. Something had changed in the pack and there would be no more leeway given to isolated members. Drew had been keen to demonstrate he would be a better Alpha than his father, refusing to impose his will on the pack. No more, apparently.

  “How, exactly, am I supposed to afford this?” An embarrassed flush heated his neck even though Gee knew all the nasty details of his dire personal circumstances. His parents had cleaned out what little remained in their bank account and left town in a trail of debts and broken promises. No one had expected Ven to take on the debt burden, but he’d insisted, trading free labor to local businesses left short when the Thornes had fled. He’d spent a summer bussing tables at The Den to settle his father’s tab.

  “The pack will provide the necessary funding. Drew and Ryker have reviewed all existing security protocols and deemed this a priority requirement. Once the station is up and running, you can use the proceeds to support yourself. The accommodation is basic, but it’ll keep your fur dry.” Gee spoke with real seriousness. Ven realized he’d been well and truly boxed into a corner. The decision had been made and he would either have to go along with it or hit the road.