What This Wolf Wants

What This Wolf Wants

by Jennifer Dellerman

A Ravenous Romance® Original Publication

A Ravenous Romance® Original Publication

www.ravenousromance.com

Copyright © 2011 by Jennifer Dellerman

Ravenous Romance®

100 Cummings Center

Suite 123A

Beverly, MA 01915

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in whole or in part without written permission from the publisher, except by reviewers who may quote brief excerpts in connection with a review.

ISBN-13: 978-1-60777-436-5

This book is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

Chapter One

Alexander “Zan” Sutton padded down the stairs of the nearly silent house. If he thought about it, the building was more mansion than house, boasting three bedroom suites, four stand-alone bedrooms, three full baths, two powder rooms, a fully equipped gymnasium, a high-end rec room, and a kitchen large enough to feed a small army. Which was an accurate description of those residing in the house, though not generally present at the same time. A special elite group of soldiers called the two-story building their home. Special in that not only were the eight men rough, rugged, and trained in military combat, undertaking dangerous assignments and beating the odds to live and tell the tale, they all had a common but rare and very efficient ability. An ability that included super speed, super human strength, highly keen senses, a talent for hunting their prey, and an uncanny instinct for survival. In other words, each male was a shifter. A wolf shifter to be exact.

Yawning, Zan rubbed a calloused hand over his buzz-cut dark brown hair and briefly contemplated going back to bed. He passed by a window and glanced through squinted eyes at the late afternoon sun. By rote he estimated he’d slept nearly twelve hours, having dragged his sorry ass in around four that morning. Normally not able to sleep much more than six hours at any given stretch of time, he knew the extended nap was due to the prior hellish week of little to no sleep. Running on adrenalin, stress, and caffeine could only last for so long, even for a shifter, and once his mission was over and he’d made it safely back to the mansion, he’d passed out cold.

Zan yawned again, this one wide enough to unhinge his jaw. The man might desire more sleep, exhausted in mind and body, but the other half of him, the predatory beast that started to stretch and wake inside his soul, would want another hunt. Never seemingly satisfied, the animal always wanted more. A more calculated risk, a greater prize. Some days Zan didn’t know who was stronger, the man or the wolf. On those days he felt old behind his years. Days he wondered if he’d chosen the right path.

At thirty-three he was far from old. His six-one frame was heavily muscled yet lean, shoulders wide and strong, hips narrow. Muscles bunched in his bicep as he rubbed the back of his neck, working out the kinks from sleeping so long in one position, and thought about hitting the gym after gulping down eight or so cups of coffee and eating a dozen eggs.

Or a whole pig. He was starving. Remaining mobile and unnoticeable from the day he entered Russia for his latest assignment until his return trip meant a lot of missed meals. He needed to refuel.

Over the sound of the air conditioner struggling to cool the enormous open spaces and twelve-foot ceilings, Zan detected two male voices coming from his destination, the kitchen. Even as he stepped in the room he knew who was there. Scott Boeing and Joe Feider. Even if he couldn’t hear their chatter, he could smell them. Not that they stank. It was just that a shifter’s sense of smell was their strongest, which made it easier for them to find those who were lost or those who didn’t want to be found, as long as they had their scent.

A bunch of damn killer bloodhounds
, Zan thought with a wry sense of humor, that was LunaWatch, the name of the team ensconced in this gilded cage in Virginia. They could leave at any time, of course, and did so for every mission. On many occasions, the men gave into their wolf’s need to run and hunt by sprinting through the vast forest that surrounded the estate. But at times it still felt like a cage to Zan. When that elusive need for
more
came upon them, Zan tended to override his boss’s suggestion of an extended leave of absence.

How much longer he could hide the compulsion of the wolf’s addiction from his boss, Zan didn’t know.

His mother had once stated that Zan’s need for
more
was his biological clock ticking away. What a crock. Men didn’t have biological clocks. And even if the idea of home and hearth was an enticing prospect, it wouldn’t be complete unless he found his true mate. While he could have human children with any fertile female, his wolf wouldn’t necessarily be compelled to stay, and he’d only find himself trapped in another cage.

“Yo Sutton,” Joe lifted his chin in an absent greeting from the solid-wood kitchen table where the much younger shifter sat next to an equally youthful Scott. While both men were in their early twenties, they were dedicated soldiers: strong, smart, eager, and at times acted much younger than their years to the irritation of the older members of LunaWatch. At present they were staring with intent at something in the tech savvy Scott’s hand.

“Yo back at you,” Zan mumbled as he bee-lined for the coffee machine. From the smell it was a recent pot so he filled a large mug to the brim. “Anything new?”

Joe laughed. “Nay, man. You know how it is. Kicking ass, taking down the bad guys and getting the girl. I love this job!” Zan closed his eyes as he savored his coffee. Yeah. It was almost always the same for him as well. Though the girl part was a stretch. Just as he knew it was a stretch for both Joe and Scott. As the youngest in the team, it seemed they had a need to brag about their conquests. In time they’d learn. But for now, the comment brought a small smile to Zan’s lips.

He leaned back against the granite countertop. “What are you two up to now?”

“Evidently not a damn thing.” Scott grumbled. “Thomas took off with Cooper yesterday to Australia and Russell said Joe and I had to take a week off.”

Zan nodded in agreement. Depending on the job, the team might work as a whole unit, in pairs, or alone. As the newest recruits, Scott and Joe were only given the more dangerous duties when paired with a seasoned member, otherwise they worked as backup. If Russell wanted them to take time off it was because their leader sensed the younger shifters’ restlessness. If not monitored properly, their job could turn into an addiction, a dangerous edge Zan flirted with more often than not.

While Zan could still corral his beast when reporting to Russell, he had a feeling the older shifter wasn’t completely clueless, given his leader’s predilection to suggest rather than order time off, or space Zan’s assignments further apart. Though not a true Alpha of a Pack, Russell was a superior officer, and an order from such the human half of Zan would understand, but the beast would only snarl and snap in a fight for supremacy. Battling Russell for leadership was about the last thing Zan wanted to do. Not only did he respect the man, the shifter had a mate with a cub on the way.

Zan’s circumstances left him at a loss. Remaining with the status quo could lead to undesired results, but Zan had no idea what to do with himself if he took the other option and left the team. Living among the humans could become dicey. Zan might be one of the few shifters strong enough to control the beast during the full moon, but his animal needed to be involved in a Pack environment, otherwise the beast would either whither and die, or go psychotic, taking the man with him.

Of course, there was a third option. Joining another Pack. But where and which one? Maybe Zan should take some time off and do some reconnoitering on that end.

“What was it with that girl?” Joe’s frowning tone broke through Zan’s drifting thoughts. “I mean she’s cute and all, but not really my type.” Meaning she wasn’t a triple D. “What girl?” Zan asked, not really interested but unwilling to go back into the dark areas of his mind.

“That’s because she was in heat and unclaimed you moron. It’s enough to make any shifter look twice.” Scott muttered, moving his thumb over the screen of his cell phone.

And take several photos
, Zan thought as he assumed that’s what the two were doing. What idiot bastard would leave his mate unclaimed?

Finding one’s mate was akin to hunting down a needle in a haystack. Once the mating heat occurred, only the most reprehensible of wolves would leave one’s mate available to other wolves for the taking.

Joe made a rumbling sound in his throat. “I remember that shifter next to her. He was the Alpha of the Pack, wasn’t he? Maybe she didn’t want to be claimed by him. Wouldn’t blame her. He practically skinned us alive with his eyes. Hey,” Joe paused, looked up at Zan and back down at the small device. “Can you make that section bigger?”

“Top of the line, my man. Of course I can.” Scott made some adjustments while Zan contemplated his next move. Hunt down Russell and ask for his next assignment, or start searching for a new home?

“Whoa.”

Zan had turned his back to get a second cup of coffee when his spine tingled. He could practically feel two pairs of eyes boring holes into the back of his head through the sudden and thick silence. Facing the younger shifters, he lifted a brow in question as they alternately looked from him to Scott’s phone and back again. The blood in his veins chilled.

“What?”

Joe was the first to break the silence. “Dude. I always thought you had some strange eyes, but this man’s got them.” Zan’s eyes were an intense green. A clear emerald green that had no striations, no color fluctuations, and had memorized more than one individual with their unending depth.

Though far from the only person on the planet with such eyes, there was one particular individual Zan had spent years searching for, one he
knew
had the same eyes. A male.

His brother.

So fast the motion was a blur, Zan reached across the table and snatched the cell out of Scott’s hand. His heart pounded as he stared down at the color still-frame, eyes instinctively going to the male in the photo.

Longish black hair was pulled back at the base of his neck, matching brows were drawn together in a scowl as the man glowered in the direction of the photographer. The unknown man had the same olive complexion Zan did, but the cheekbones were sharper, and the chin more chiseled.

But the eyes…

The black plastic cracked under the pressure of Zan’s tightening fist. Ever so slowly he brought his head up and looked at Scott. Zan’s eyes were hot, as piercing and startling an emerald green as the man pictured on the device that now mangled in his clawed grip. “Where,” Zan demanded on a barely contained growl. “When?”

Chapter Two

“Well, hell.” Dr. Jacklyn Chavez slid her cell phone back in the purse she’d just set down on the counter of her kitchen next to a blue and white checkered box. The appetizing scent of melted cheese, garlic pizza dough, and steaming pepperonis was enticing enough to make a grown man cry. While Jackie was, thankfully, not a male, she did let out a tired sigh that was quickly followed by a growling in her tummy.

“So much for my triple pepperoni pizza.” Unfortunately the call she just finished couldn’t be ignored. She’d need every scant minute it would take for her to wolf (no pun intended) down half the pizza to ready her guest room for an unexpected visit.

Jackie may not know who or how bad the situation was, but as one of the doctors in the small mountain town of Woodcliff, CO, when someone required help, each second counted. And when that call came from her Alpha of the Pack, it was non-negotiable.

Then again, she reasoned with herself, she couldn’t very well help someone in need if she was running on fumes. A glance at her watch made her realize breakfast had been over twelve hours ago, and with her metabolism rate she’d need more fuel to function. A doctor wasn’t any good to anyone if passed out from hunger.

Flipping the box lid up, she snatched a gooey slice and took a huge bite, burning the roof of her mouth. A minute later she was washing her hands of grease and cheese, her cheeks bulging from a second piece.

Then she headed down the hall to her small second bedroom and turned on the lights.

The walls were painted a soothing greenish-blue, adorned with soft watercolors depicting serene forest scenes. The tiled floor was a simple off-white pattern, sealed repeatedly to arrest any and all bodily fluids, particularly blood. One heavy-duty hospital bed lay in the center of the room and a large oak dresser dominated one wall. A shorter metal cabinet ran the length of another wall, housing and providing counter space for medical equipment. One comfortable chair was set next to the head of the bed while a rolling stool waited on the other side of the bed.

To say the room was crowded was an understatement, but until she could afford a bigger house, either renting like this one or outright buying which wasn’t in the foreseeable future, she needed to work with what she had. And she was very good at doing just that.