“Oh, Brenna.” He released a low whine. Each pinprick was due to his overwhelming need to possess and protect her from those who would steal her.
Declan reached for her, hands outstretched and ready to ease each and every sting, but she didn’t allow that. Instead, she clambered away, shuffling backward in an awkward crab-walk that put distance between them.
Brenna shook her head, blond hair swinging with the rapid movement. “Stay back.” He eased forward, intent on keeping her within reach. She couldn’t get away from him. He had to protect her, claim her. “I mean it. I’m not one of those.” She waved at the space behind him. “I don’t know what the fuck… No…”
The shuffle and scrape of someone closing in on them had Declan spinning to face the newest arrival, but he cut off his growl before it had a true chance to begin. Connor and Harper—both now wolves—crawled toward him, their bellies hovering hardly an inch above the driveway. The moment his attention focused on them, they both rolled to their backs, baring the most vulnerable part of themselves in submission.
A low whimper had him refocusing on his mate, on the way trembles wracked her body and how the scent of her fear overwhelmed her blood and pain. She shouldn’t ever fear him. Others, but never him.
The sounds of the couple inching forward increased with each passing second and the nearer they eased, the farther away Brenna scrambled.
The wolf raged at the expanding distance, shoving forward once again and demanding they pounce on her, keep her near. Declan held back the urge to pin her beneath him, shoving the animal aside when it leapt forward. Violence had caused this mess; it wouldn’t solve their problem.
“Brenna?” He remained still, tension pulsing through his veins, but he managed to hold the beast in check.
“No.” She shook her head. “I thought… I almost believed… I won’t become that. I won’t! That’s not me!” Brenna’s terror vibrated her words and speared his heart.
“Easy.” He held out a hand to her, dropping it when she crawled further away.
“I won’t. I wanna go home. Can I go home? I don’t want to do this anymore.” Her chest heaved, body seeming to fight for oxygen as panic overtook her.
“Okay, okay,” he crooned. “It’s fine. You won’t be that way, Brenna. Calm down.” Declan’s wolf was anything but calm and he imagined his unease merely added to her fright. A wolf instinctually took direction from its Alpha which meant his fear and disquiet fed hers. He took a deep breath, begging his wolf to relax, before he spoke again. “I will take you home.” It caused his wolf to rage, to fight to take flesh from bone in a bid for freedom, but he made the promise anyway. “I’ll take you home.”
Declan didn’t add that he’d remain in the area, lurking in the bushes or sleeping in front of her door. He might allow her the comfort of her own space, but he refused to leave her side. Not when he knew she was his and his alone. Not when a rogue still lurked in his territory.
As far as Declan was concerned, as far as his
pack
was concerned, Brenna was the most important person on Swan Mountain.
She just didn’t know it yet.
Brenna lowered into her favorite chair, the plush cushions welcoming as she relaxed and curled her knees to her chest. The mug of hot cocoa warmed her palms, calming her further. She needed that bit of comfort after her day. The events continued to replay in her mind… Harper’s office, Declan, the ride to his home and subsequently his explosive show of aggression. The
wolf
.
She’d refused to climb back into a vehicle with him, demanding a car, Harper’s or his own, and was finally tossed a set of keys. Declan followed her home, but she didn’t care. He hadn’t stopped her from racing inside or locking him out.
Werewolves? Mates? None of it mattered in the face of that violence. She was sure she’d awaken tomorrow and discover the day was nothing more than a horrible, margarita-induced nightmare. At least, she hoped.
Then a movement in the shadows caught her attention, a subtle shift of the bushes that revealed dark gray fur and a single yellowed eye. Even though she’d only gotten a brief glimpse earlier in the day, she knew that animal. Or rather wolf. Werewolf. Declan.
She sipped her drink, savoring the chocolate on her tongue and flowing down her throat. No matter how comforting, it couldn’t take away the new tension pulsing through her veins.
So, he’d allowed her to return home but hadn’t left her alone. She wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Especially when something inside her jerked, an internal, involuntary movement accompanied by a low whine. A whine similar to the ones she’d heard only hours ago.
Brenna tried to suppress it, pretend it didn’t exist, but then a soft shuffling scratch jarred her. She startled with the touch and sat up straight as she scanned the room. The feeling had been there, close and drifting across her skin, yet she was alone.
The whine was louder this time, a cool wet nose nudging her from within.
Still, no one was nearby.
Movement in the yard had her refocusing on the wolf lurking in the shadows. More of him was revealed, the distance between them lessened. He’d obviously eased forward, stepping to the boundaries that separated the forest from her lawn.
The thing inside her, the one she
refused
to call a wolf, whined once again. It urged her to go to Declan, to rub against him, and lean into his side. She sensed the barely suppressed urge to throw herself at his feet and raise her tail. But that wasn’t happening. The
thing
was strong, but Brenna was stronger. At least, for now.
The grumbles and begging slowly eased, drifting to the back of her mind, but not completely disappearing. The
thing
accepted her dominance and she breathed a soft sigh of relief.
She wasn’t sure who would have won had the wolf—no, the
thing
—pushed the issue.
The wolf behind her house jerked its attention from Brenna to the side of her home, lip curling as it narrowed its eyes.
It. No, she should just call the animal by name.
Declan jerked his attention from her to the side of her house, curling his lip, and she imagined him releasing one of those hair-raising growls.
That distraction immediately preceded a knock on her front door, the rap of knuckles on wood both timid and unsure. The wolf inside her—fuck, she was a werewolf and she couldn’t deny it—reacted with a rolling rumble of its own. Brenna imagined it raising its head and scenting the air, searching for the visitor’s identity.
She refrained from doing the same with her human body. Barely.
Another knock and she set her mug aside before rising from the chair in an easy shift of muscle and bone. There was no grunt or groan as she hauled herself to standing. Not like normal. She cracked her neck. Or rather, tried to. Again, no more aches accompanied the move. It was as if the wolf had soothed…
Had it? Could it?
Probably. She didn’t have any doubt the animal sped healing. By the time she’d clambered from the compound’s driveway and raced home, the evidence of her fall was gone. Cuts and scrapes no longer lingered and marred her skin.
The knock came a third time, the sound causing an immediate reaction in the wolf surveying the house. Declan stepped forward again, and she knew he’d venture farther if she didn’t answer the door.
Brenna padded forward and her wolf urged her to breathe deeply, to try and identify her visitor. Air filled her lungs, sinking into her body, and the beast helped her sort through the aromas. Those familiar to her home were discarded. It was those that didn’t belong that the animal hunted. Spice. Sweetness. The well-known hint of disinfectant that caused her nose to wrinkle.
They all belonged to one person: Harper.
She rested her forehead on the smooth wood of her front door, the surface solid and heavy. Would it keep Harper—or Declan—out if they really wanted in?
Probably not.
The wolf snorted at her thought.
Okay, definitely not.
Twisting the deadbolt and disengaging the chain, Brenna finally turned the knob to grant her friend entrance. With the overwhelming wave of Harper’s scent, other things also became apparent. The look Harper gave her, the combination of fear and timidity with a dash of hope that filled the normally confident woman. As Brenna continued to stare, silence stretching between them, Harper squirmed.
Harper’s next move clued Brenna in to one of the blatant differences. Similar to the submission—yes, she researched real wolves, sue her—shown at Declan’s, her friend now tilted her head to the side, eyes downcast. The longer the quiet lasted, the more of Harper’s neck was bared, and her eyes were now closed.
This was wrong and even the wolf whined at the change in her friend.
“Harper, what are you doing?” she whispered and reached for Harper, ignoring the woman’s flinch. When she tugged, her friend eased into Brenna’s embrace without hesitation, slumping against her. A tremble wracked Harper and she was quick to quiet the woman, rubbing her back and squeezing tightly when a low whine escaped Harper’s lips.
Brenna’s inner-wolf was pleased with her actions, happy they’d cared for one of their wolves.
Their. Wolves.
They were possessive and sure of the claim.
After researching wolves, she’d accepted the likelihood that Declan was an Alpha. Connor and Harper’s submission notwithstanding, the man just seemed overwhelmingly dominant.
And he’d said Brenna was his mate.
Which made her the… Alpha Bitch.
God save her. Hell, God save everyone else.
Her inner-wolf demanded Brenna calm their friend—
their
wolf. So, she led Harper into her home, drawing her into the living room where she’d relaxed only moments ago.
“C’mon. Sit. Want some cocoa?” Harper nodded against her shoulder, trembles still overtaking her and her fingers grasping Brenna’s thin shirt. “Gotta let go, hon.” Harper shook her head and she sighed. “Harper…”
Her friend sniffled. “Sorry. Just so sorry, Alpha.”
This was something she could do without. She was already freaking about the getting furry thing, and being Declan’s mate thing, and now her best friend acted like they hadn’t given each other shit since they’d met in first grade.
Growling, she pushed Harper from her arms and onto the couch. In the same move, she plopped her fluffy ass on the coffee table and stared at her trembling friend. Damn it.
First, why did werewolf furriness only fix aches and pains? Why couldn’t it nip and tuck her ass a little, maybe make her boobs a little perkier? She was happy with her body overall, but a girl didn’t mind pert tits whether they were A’s or DDD’s.
And second, this was so not gonna work.
“Listen, bitch.” Harper flicked a glance at her and then away, sending Brenna’s anger higher. Thankfully her wolf agreed with her plans. Everyone else could bow and scrape to them, but not Harper. Never Harper. “I have been poked, prodded, bandaged, snarled at, kidnapped—”
That snared her friend’s attention, the normal Harper pushing forward. “No, you agreed to go.”
“Under duress.”
“Duress, my ass. You wanted to climb Declan like a tree. Hell, better yet, you wanted to eat him like a birthday cake.” Harper pointed at her, eyes narrowed. “With butter. Cream. Icing.”
The tone was accusatory, but no less true. Because, really, she wanted Declan. And if she wanted him like birthday cake it
had
to have buttercream icing. Birthday cake without buttercream icing wasn’t birthday cake. It was a crime against nature and should be hauled into the yard and doused with beef bouillon before it poisoned the Sugary Forest of Goodness.
Brenna’s wolf released a relieved sigh, thankful her friend was back to being snarky and no longer looking like she was ready to flip over and expose all that furriness. She did not want to see Harper’s business, even if it were covered by fur.
“What. Ever.” She pushed off the coffee table just enough to spin around and flop onto the couch beside Harper. “So…”
“So…” Harper leaned over and rested her head on Brenna’s shoulder. Not in some wolfy move, but because they’d adopted this position repeatedly over the years. They’d leaned on each other when their lives went to crap and then they’d push to their feet long enough to snare ice cream and resume positions.
Brenna wondered if her wolf would help burn off all those calories.
The wolfy snort did not give her an optimistic outlook.
Bastard bitch.
“So you’re a werewolf.” Brenna started with the obvious.
“Yup.”
“Connor, too.”
“Uh-huh. He’s the pack’s Beta.”
She scrunched her nose. “What’s that? That wasn’t covered on the nature websites I visited.”
Harper froze. “Nature websites? You went online to research real wolves?” A snort escaped. “
Real
ones?”
“Shaddup.” Brenna nudged her friend. “Tell me about you furry people already or you won’t get ice cream. I’m a big badass now. I can do that and stuff.”
Harper hacked out a laugh, but did as Brenna asked, filling her in on the Land of the Wolf and how she fit into a world that existed on four feet.
There were betas and fights and protection and in the thick of it stood the Alpha. Beside him stood his Alpha Bitch.
Brenna decided if she was gonna be called a bitch, it better be Queen Bitch.
Then Harper had to ruin the information overload by mentioning one last tidbit she’d been happily ignoring all day.
Declan is your mate. Yours. Better or worse, sickness and death. Yours. Give him a chance or your wolf won’t give you a choice.
Yippee.
*
Declan kept his gaze focused on Brenna’s house while keeping his other senses on alert. She was his mate, his other half, and if she refused to remain in his home, he’d protect her from afar.
He’d been alarmed at Harper’s appearance, his wolf taking a moment to identify the newcomer, but it’d quickly calmed when her scent came to him. On the heels of that aroma came Connor’s. The male approached him slowly, eyes downcast even as Connor towered over Declan in his wolf form.