Alpha Wolf: Black Mesa Wolves #2 (Werewolf Shifter Paranormal Romance) (7 page)

He pulled back. “I know. But this is what I want, for you. I
can wait. Not much longer,” and a self-deprecating grin underscored his voice,
“but for right now.”

He cocked his head just a bit as he looked at her. An
expression of pride and sheer possessiveness crossed his features: the
satisfied expression of a man who has just supremely pleasured his woman.
His
woman.

Sara understood with a crash of understanding that wiped
away the soothing buzz and set her back on her heels.

 Rafe still wanted her. Not just as a quick tryst in
the hot springs—in the hot springs, had she really just done that?—but as
something more.
A mate.
Only a mate would be as selfless as that, to see
to her pleasure while forgoing his own.

Her wolf whined in strong agreement.

Mind stuttering in confusion and a healthy dose of mini
panic, Sara gaped at him. Rafe wanted her as a mate. Only her. Only him. The
mate of an alpha.

Her mind ricocheted from one thing to another. She took a
step back from him, suddenly cold.

If Rafe took her as a mate, she would never be proven on her
own terms, but just as an extension of him as a powerful alpha-to-be. He'd
still see her as a cute little plaything, as would everyone else in the Pack. A
plaything he might treasure, but not one he would fully respect.

If Rafe took her as a mate, it would change everything. She
didn't even know exactly what
everything
was, but it was enough to make
her open her mouth and shoot out the first and only words she could think of.

“I have to go. I'll see you later!”

Her own perky tones rang harsh in her ears as she spun away,
shifted lightning quick, and loped back to her car over the dirt and gravel of
the parking lot. The agonizing silence behind her confirmed her maelstrom of
bouncing thoughts.

Shifting back to human, she grabbed her clothes and stuffed
them inside her car without putting them on. Scrambling behind the wheel
completely naked, legs still quaking a bit, Sara peeled away from the hot
springs and the one man who once again had taken hold of her entire damn world
and shook it like crazy.

Chapter
5

“Swing left. Higher.... Yeah, like that. Okay, come at me
again.... Right hook, right hook, right hook! Good.... Now spin, roll, and come
up to jab me with your left.... No,
left.
Your other left.”

Seated a safe distance away from his sparring brothers, Rafe
let a wry grin crook up his mouth. Caleb was a fighter in every way.
Physically, as man or wolf, mentally, even spiritually, Caleb chose the
warrior's way. He loved fighting. The biggest of all the siblings, despite
being the youngest, he wore confidence with ease and moved with a predator's
grace. His opponent, Tate, bounced up from the ground, laughing as he jabbed at
his brother with the wrong fist.

“Left, right, whatever. I fight better on all four, anyway.”

“Which is why we're trying to teach you to fighter better on
all two, little man,” Caleb said with a taunting grin. His expression changed
as Tate charged in, fists flying, yelling like a banshee. They landed together
on the heavy mat in the exercise room and an all-out mess ensued, complete with
entirely humorous swearing and more insults fueled by brotherly love.

Rafe huffed out a small snort. His brothers always
entertained. He was supposed to be referee and score keeper for this round, but
he'd given up about half an hour ago. Tate had kept complaining that Caleb was
cheating by making up new and increasingly bizarre rules, and Caleb had
responded by saying Tate spent too much time loving the ladies rather than
learning how to fight like a man, which now hampered any natural combat ability
he might have had.

Soothed by the familiar wash of his brothers' good-natured
joking and banzai attacks on one another, Rafe looked back down at his tablet
screen. A daunting list of tasks stared back up at him. Choose Guardians. Find
land with existing homes that would make for a good den, or at least the space
to build. Travel with Kieran to meet the alpha of the Lower Northwoods Pack,
right on the Canadian border. Their land would border that of Rafe's new pack.

His new pack. His own pack. The thought made him feel
simultaneously pleased and cautious. He knew he was ready for it, and the
timing was crucial right now. Yet there were so many variables, so many
unknowns that could derail the positive start of a healthy new pack.

Right now, one of those variables was a complete wild card.
Sara and her bright hair, her stunningly pretty sapphire eyes, the little
wiggle to her walk that was a fascinating blend of innocent and vixen. Sara,
who held his whole damn future in her hands right now. Hands that had been on
him the other night. Until he did the good-guy thing and told her it had been
for her.

Who was he kidding? He'd almost burst just watching her
come. Seeing her eyes darken into pools of sheer lust, hearing the hitch in her
voice as she moaned his name, feeling her clench and shudder around his fingers
as he'd held her amazing ass in his other hand....

His wolf grumped a bit in his head.

“I know,” Rafe muttered. “Way too chivalrous by half.”

A victorious shout had him look up at the mat again. Caleb
sat on Tate's chest, locking him down with a solid arm-triangle choke. Tate
beat his free hand ineffectually on Caleb's side, finally signaling defeat by
flipping him off.

“Winnah!” Caleb yelled. He sprang to his feet and began a
victory run around the room. With his imposing size and gravel voice, Caleb's
mere presence immediately convinced everyone who encountered him of his
warrior's view on life. His good looks managed to attract the ladies in droves,
but Caleb loved like he fought: with calculated moves and an end game that
always ensured one winner only. Which was never the woman seeking Caleb's
heart. As he watched his brother's Chariots of Fire routine around the gym,
Rafe wondered if someday, some woman would be more than a match for Caleb on
his personal battlefield.

Tate emitted a groaning laugh from the floor. “See?” he
said. “Total cheater move. Didn't tell me beforehand what he just did was
legal.”

Caleb, breezing by Tate into another lap, smacked his brother's
head like some big boy game of Duck, Duck, Goose. Tate snarled back, although
the effect was ruined because of his perpetual grin. Tate was the sunny one of
the Bardous, despite his unusual dark features in a family of blonds and
redheads, not to mention being the only black wolf in the pack. Happy, laid
back, and gregarious made up his basic nature. No one who spent more than a
moment of time around Tate was immune to his charm and innate gentleness.

In sharp contrast, Rafe's own nature was serious and driven.
It was why he was about to be an alpha.

He sure as hell hoped it wasn't why he was about to be a
mateless alpha. Not that he actually had a mate at the moment. But still, she
was his mate. She just didn't yet want to acknowledge it. Apparently, he wasn't
handling that aspect of their prospective relationship well.

Shit. This was
Sara
he was thinking about. Sara was
more than a mate. She was—Sara.

His wolf whined in utter confusion. If Sara was his mate,
how could she be more? Mate was everything to wolves.

Rafe hated feeling unsettled. Not being in control was not
an option for an alpha.

“So.” Caleb dropped to the floor beside Rafe and sprawled
out, sending his sweaty odor everywhere. “You ready for everything?”

Caleb's voice became more serious. Tate lifted his head up
from the mat, then rolled over and sat up, alert to the gravity of the
conversation.

“Yes.” No, not everything. Not the mate part. “I was working
on my list while you two lackeys were flexing your biceps over there. I've got
names of the best wolves to ask to come along with me as Guardians, a huge list
of needs, and miscellaneous items to take care of as they come up. It's looking
pretty good.”

The Alpha had pulled his children in for a private meeting
last night. He'd briefly outlined for the rest of them the plan for Rafe to
start his new pack, how that would align with Black Mesa Pack priorities and
territorial concerns, and most importantly what it would mean for the other new
pack led by the former rogue wolf. Rafe knew everything was a calculated
endeavor, likely set up long before he was even born. His father hadn't gotten
to be the most powerful alpha in the western half of the country, if not the
entire continent, by leaving anything up to chance. He'd told his immediate
family about Rafe's impending departure and new venture because blood demanded
the sharing of important information. Beside, each sibling was fiercely devoted
to the others. They'd all been slightly shocked—not that Rafe was to be an
alpha, that had been obvious pretty much since the day he came into the world
as calm and leader like as he was now. The bombshell for them was that it was
happening so soon.

Tate called out from the mat, “And we're all coming along as
your Guardians, chauffeurs, cooks, and diplomats, right?”

Rafe gave his brother a quick, thankful grin. Tate's cheery
nature masked an uncanny ability to smooth over any situation, whether with the
horses he trained or with wolves at each other's throats for the most petty
reasons. Rafe would give his right arm to have Tate come with him. But Rafe
himself would be the only Bardou going.

Except Sara, of course. Because she would be a Bardou when
she realized she still loved him.

An electric jolt shot through his veins at that thought. His
wolf sat up in his mind, at laser-like attention. Caleb jerked back a little
under Rafe's undirected gaze. His wolf must be showing in his eyes.

“So. How's it going with Sara?” Caleb's voice was careful.
Rafe could sense Tate's ears perking up across the room.

Rafe gave them each a long, quelling stare. Tate snorted
softly but looked away. Caleb made a show of stretching, which covered the fact
that he, too, had to look away from Rafe's alpha-like gaze. He might not be
their alpha, but every wolf could sense who was in charge.

When he'd returned from the hot springs that night, he'd
stopped at the den to have a quick session with the punching bag in the
state-of-the-art gym they sat in right now. Working out seemed an excellent way
to release the tension from
not
having a mind-bending orgasm with the
hottest, most intriguing, most stubbornly unyielding female wolf in the world.
More like a foxy little vixen instead of wolf. He'd then unexpectedly come
across his brothers having a late-night snack in the kitchen and arguing about
who would win an arm wrestling contest. They'd stopped short when he strolled
in. Even after pummeling the hell out of the bag and grimly enjoying a long
shower, Sara had been all over his mind. Not to mention her scent was still all
over him.

His brothers had known instantly. They'd actually been great
listeners as he vented a little about his apparent misstep, without mentioning
specifics, of course. Rafe did not kiss and tell, not even with the wolves with
whom he otherwise was the most candid. Despite not having the greatest track
record with women either, both Caleb and Tate had give him solid advice: let
her go for the moment so she could figure things out on her own.

Well. Now it was less than three days later, and waiting had
made him as restless as a caged...wolf. He needed to handle this situation.
Besides, he and Sara would be back on patrol together tomorrow. Any tension
affecting their work was unacceptable.

His wolf growled again and paced in his mind before curling
into an annoyed ball.

“She's been avoiding me,” he finally forced out. “No calls,
no texts, and I haven't seen her around the den at all. I thought about asking
Lily but, you know. She'd probably kill me for being an idiot with her bff,” he
ended ruefully. Lily adored her brothers with unshakeable love, but when it
came to them merely being guys, she was a little less forgiving.

Caleb shook his head. “You might have fucked it up.” Typical
straight-talking Caleb. “I don't know what you did and I don't really want to
know, but Sara's pretty cool. She wouldn't be giving you the cold shoulder if
you didn't screw it up somehow.”

“Thanks,” Rafe said drily. “Any words of wisdom from you?”
He directed that toward Tate's dark head, which had flopped back onto the mat.

Tate paused before he said, “Just keep going slow with her.
Don't push her or rush her. She's still trying to understand what you want.
Remember Sara's really independent. You need to give her time to mellow into
the idea of having you as a mate.”

Rafe exhaled slowly. That was part of the problem. It seemed
going slow had freaked her out. She'd picked up on something that made her run.
Clearly, he was out of practice.

“That doesn't seem to be working well so far.”

Caleb sighed in exaggerated botheration. Never one to mince
words and always marching straight to the heart of the matter, for good or bad,
he had no patience for, well, patience.

“Then tell her she's your mate already. Throw her over your
shoulder and drag her off to your man cave. You're going to make one lame-ass
alpha if you can't even bring your woman to heel.”

Caleb's sly look bracketed his fighting words, and Rafe
laughed it off despite his wolf's muffled but clear warning growl, like that of
an irritated older wolf to an annoying pup.

Rafe looked from one brother to the other. On their range of
life views, Caleb always supported the brash, offensive move. Tate preferred
the quiet, gentle approach. As usual, Rafe fell somewhere in between.

Fine. He would go slow with her. After he tracked her down
right now. He had to try to get that gorgeous rosy blush to cover her face and
neck again. Fool or not, he needed to be certain he could still arouse the
sweet vixen in her the way she aroused him.