Wild Wolf: Black Mesa Wolves #4 (4 page)

Her wolf made a disparaging sound, batting away Claire's somewhat censorious thoughts with a careless paw.
Yes. He
is
fascinating,
was all she thought, the words and emotions connected to them so deep Claire couldn't really tell if it was her wolf or her human thinking them. Frowning a bit, she again pushed away the intriguing male wolf and tried to focus on the here and now.

Through her wolf, as she walked she picked up on the surrounding smells more strongly than even her unusually heightened human senses. A bakery caf
é
across the street sent enticing aromas of newly baked bread and yummy pastries. Smoky car exhaust, pavement wet from the light rain earlier, the smell of freshly-applied paint that whooshed out an opening door of the business she was just passing by, an autumnal snap to the air, the conflicting smells of thousands of people in varying states of cleanliness, all battered at her nose. Despite her general aversion to crowds, she actually did enjoy opening herself up to the full sensory experience, at least for a little while. It fueled her writer's brain, and it offered such a contrast to her mostly solitary life that she absorbed it all with a small yet real sense of fascination. She could only handle it for a few days, but during that time, she liked to collect the nuanced memories that would spill out in her writing.

Smells different here,
her wolf thought, even more fascinated than Claire.
Wolves?

No. The Pikes Peak Alpha had told her she would not encounter any of his wolves while she was in town these few days. They were being closely monitored and restricted in movement due to some looming rogue threat. He'd gently warned her to be careful herself. Rogues may not know about her existence, but they'd likely try to get her to join their cause if they found her. “And they wouldn't hesitate to use force if necessary,” he'd added in a stony tone. “Just keep yourself alert while you're here. Call me if you need any help, Claire.”

Instantly, she'd bristled at his paternalism, even though rationally she knew he meant well. She was certain all wolf packs would like to have all wild wolves under their control, even if they said they didn't. The Denver pack's alpha was a reasonable man, and since he was a distant cousin of her mother's she'd known him since she was little, when they'd stayed with his pack for a short time. But her mother had never wanted to join his pack, and neither did Claire. While she did shiver a bit from the depth of his concern about rogues, she mostly brushed it off. She traveled by herself often enough. Not once in her life had she encountered any rogue wolves. They couldn't pursue what they didn't know existed.

Dodging a cute young couple pushing a baby warmly bundled into a fancy stroller, Claire ignored her wolf's abrupt longing fixation on the child. Her wolf wanted cubs of her own. Claire, though, knew better. Her rational human mind very occasionally conflicted with the more immediate, emotional mind of her wolf. Cubs meant a mate, and a mate meant being tied to a pack. That was never going to happen, as far as Claire was concerned.

Not even if any wolf in the running was the sexiest, kindest-seeming pack wolf she'd ever met. Or the most fascinating. Ultimately, they all wanted one thing: to possess her, as was the way in all shifter packs. That was never going to happen.

No way.

The bookstore appeared two doors down. Her wolf whined just a bit at the sudden nervousness Claire felt in anticipation of her reading, then softly thumped her tail in a supportive gesture. Squaring her shoulders, Claire lifted her chin a bit and strode to the door. Opening it with determination, she stepped inside to her necessary fate for the evening.

***

Strolling along the crowded downtown Denver streets, leaves crunching beneath his boots, Tate felt like a wealthy man. He was pretty frugal about his money, investing it right back into his business. But this working weekend had netted him enough to be able to play a little tonight in the big city. He'd also gained enthusiastic new clients who wanted to fly him out here every weekend for several months to work with their horses. He'd have to talk to Alpha about that, but it would work out as long as those rogues didn't do anything stupid in the meantime. If they did, he'd have to talk to his clients about sending their horses to him instead so he could continue their training at the local barn he worked out of. One day, he'd have enough for a big spread of his own. In the meantime, he worked his butt off for clients like this, building his reputation, his training knowledge, and his bank account one horse at a time.

His wolf growled, low and worried, at the thought of rogues. They'd killed a good friend of his a few months ago. The memory of that senseless, wasteful death still made Tate clench his jaw even as his eyes prickled. Tate didn't get crazy upset about things the way Caleb did. Nor was he as coolly calculating as Rafe. His modus operandi was to consider the situation, then throw his weight behind whichever plan seemed best. That usually tended to be his Alpha's plan, or Rafe's. Tate would never charge off after the rogues on his own to exact vengeance. That wouldn't solve a thing except likely get him killed, too. He really wasn't all that interested in fighting anyway. Sure, he could fight, and he could do a darn good job of it. But there were better ways to solve problems. Even when the price paid had been the life of a cubhood friend.

Rogues are danger,
his wolf whispered in his mind. Worry still underlined his tone.

Yes, they were. There'd been no reports of any of their activity in this area, however. No rogues prowled here right now. He didn't have to think about them anymore tonight.

Stepping aside to let a couple with a stroller pass him, he took a second to smile at the cute little baby in it. He often babysat for the few Pack couples with very young cubs. He'd always liked babies, despite the fact no way was he ready for something like that himself. His wolf grinned at the thought of cubs before quickly sending an image of chasing deer in the mountains, unencumbered by young wolves who needed far too much attention. Tate laughed to himself and kept walking.

Inhaling a deep whiff of the crisp fall air, he relaxed even more as he wandered through his favorite time of year. The trees above him were loaded with bright golden leaves haloed by the glow of streetlamps. The scent of leaves midway between green and dead had always fascinated him. Humans couldn't really tell, but there was a subtle difference in the fragrance released by the leaves right during their peak colors. To him, fall leaves smelled like an exciting promise. Everything was so bright and clean and alive with the slight chill in the air, after the lazy days of summertime.

Smells like outside. Smells good,
his wolf murmured in his mind.

Denver hopped with energy this evening, people walking and laughing and chatting as they ebbed and flowed along the sidewalks, heading to their evening's entertainment. The smell of woodsmoke, probably from some trendy restaurant, drifted through the air as Tate stepped back into the crowds and continued his easy stroll.

Relaxed by the surroundings, he let his thoughts drift for the millionth time to the strange female wolf from a few days ago. His
mate.
He still couldn't believe it. He'd pretty much not slept that night, restless with excitement and anxiety, though thankfully he'd conked out on the short plane ride in the morning so he hadn't been totally useless on his first day with his new clients. Tate had never given serious thought to a permanent female wolf in his life. Women were great, easy company, especially because they went to their house at night and he stayed at his, and no one got upset about anything. No muss, no fuss. He stayed friends with the ones he dated for longer periods of time, and never in his life had he had any woman truly mad at him. He kept things honest and easy, and that kept everyone happy.

His wolf hurtled images of joyful hunting, playing, and tussling together with the nameless female wolf. His
mate
, he thought again in some awe.
A passionate sense of aliveness held the images, a sense of being truly alert and aware for the first time ever.

“Right,” he muttered to himself as he sought again the memory of her crisp, pure scent. He'd just found the one woman who could rocket him into a higher level of being, and he didn't know who she was. Nor was he sure he was ready for this mate thing. Of course wolves mated, that was a given. It was to be expected. But the encounter had been so unexpected, so startling, he wasn't quite sure he could wrap his mind around it just yet. And immediately recognizing his mate upon seeing her—that wasn't necessarily common, either. Some mates took years to realize they were meant for one another. He just hadn't ever really given much thought to the matter.

Now, though, the intoxicating scent of the beautiful strange wolf stayed with him every moment, teasing him. He could hardly wait to get back home so he could track her down and talk to her. The next time he saw her, he would be sure to approach her much more carefully so she didn't flee again. His no-holds-barred galloping up to her, he recalled with a grimace, had been a stupid mistake on his part.

With a disgusted huff, his wolf agreed.

Rounding a corner, Tate paused as his cell vibrated in his jeans pocket. Slipping it out, he stepped aside to peer at the message while not getting trampled. It was a group message to him, Lily, and Caleb from Rafe.

Remember birthday gifts.

Tate groaned, drawing a slight frown from a passerby hurrying down the sidewalk. He'd totally forgotten it was his mother's birthday next week. Leave it to responsible eldest brother Rafe to remind them all.

His phone jumped in his hand again.
Rafe sending a message to just him.

Tate, you should pick something up while you're in Denver. She likes old books. There are some great bookstores there.

“Good point,” he said under his breath. There had to be a bookstore nearby. Thumbing his screen to the browser, he quickly searched for local bookstores. A decent one was around the next block. Still ambling and enjoying the evening, he headed in that direction.

His phone buzzed again. This time, though, it was ringing. Rafe must have decided he needed a verbal reminder.

“Hey,” Tate greeted his older brother good-naturedly. “Got it. Book for Mom. I'm almost at a bookstore.”

Rafe chuckled, sounding eerily like their father. “How's Denver?”

“Big,” Tate replied, dodging a group of laughing people as they spilled out restaurant doors almost right into him. He crinkled his nose just a bit at their tart smells. Seemed most of them had ingested a bunch of garlic with their dinners.

“I have a question for you,” Rafe said. “Alpha talked to me the other night. After the meeting. He wants us to leave week after next to get things actually started.”

“Already?” Tate said, surprised.

Rafe had been tapped by the Alpha to start a new pack far up north, almost to the Canadian border, to keep a sense of order and lawfulness extending farther up toward the wilder reaches where fewer packs existed. With the rogue threat and the realization the most powerful pack in Canada was run by a sick old wolf who planned insurrection, the placement of this new pack was even more important. Even so, Tate hadn't realized his father wanted Rafe and his mate, Sara, to go quite this soon. The sense of the impending loss had already been hard for him to think about, even though he rationally understood all the reasons for the decision.

“Tate,” Rafe said. His usual seriousness became even more firm, alerting Tate's wolf into watchfulness. “I asked Alpha for a substantial favor, and he said yes.” Rafe paused and took a breath before continuing. “We want Caleb to join us in our new pack.”

“Whoa,” Tate said, his thoughts suddenly tripping over themselves. He tried to imagine Caleb's reaction to that invitation, and failed. Caleb and the Black Mesa Pack went together like a cowboy and his hat. Or in this case, like a sometime cage fighter and his gloves. And Caleb answering to Rafe might be a major issue. They got along just fine as siblings, but as an alpha, Rafe would not tolerate even an ounce of Caleb's fired-up temper.

“I need him,” Rafe said simply. “He's incredibly valuable for many reasons. He might even be a Guardian again someday, if he demonstrates he's ready to resume that role. He will respect my authority. He also knows I'll wipe the ground with him if he ever tries anything stupid.”

Both siblings laughed, although there was an uneasy, somewhat unhappy edge to it. Reactive Caleb was not known for making the most well-thought out decisions. Then again, Tate mused, slowing his steps as he approached the bookstore, Caleb's temper had been, well, tempered by Rielle. She was definitely a saving grace in his volatile younger brother's life. Maybe Rafe was counting on that.

Tate's wolf shot him an image of the gorgeous strange female wolf gently rubbing up against his side, washing his face in the way wolves did when they wanted to relax one another. Hmm.

“What did he say when you told him?” Tate asked.

There was a pause before Rafe answered. “We haven't asked him yet. I needed to talk to you first. I wanted to wait until you were done meeting your new clients this weekend, so you could focus on them first.”

Tate frowned. His brother carefully thought out his words as well as his actions before ever doing anything because he always had an endgame. “Why me first? I don't want to have to hide something from him.”

Rafe sighed. “I know. I'll meet with him tomorrow, after you're home. That's also why I wanted to talk to you now, so you have the evening and flight home to think about it.”

Suddenly suspicious, Tate said, “Think about what?”

Another slight pause before Rafe went on. “If Caleb comes with us, it means you'd need to one hundred percent commit to being a Guardian.”

Tate bristled very slightly, making his wolf whine in reflected agitation. “I am one hundred percent committed to my pack. You know that as well as anyone.” He kept his tone neutral.

“You're also very committed to your other career, Tate,” his brother shot back. His voice was understanding, but firm. “Caleb enjoys being a fighter, but it's always been for fun. He always made it clear that he would drop that part of his life in an instant if it came down to a necessary choice. What I know better than most, except probably our parents with their alarming ability to apparently read our minds”—despite himself, Tate laughed in agreement—“is how much you love what you do. How much it defines you. And I'd bet these new clients you just worked with loved you so much they wanted to hire you to continue working with them, right?”