Trey

She-wolves in bikinis, empty beer bottles, sand between my toes. San Clemente State Park is the perfect place to camp with the gang on an October weekend.

My mom’s easy, but I’m not sure how most of these kids got their parents to let them come—must be because Garrett, our future alpha, headed up the trip. Either that, or they lied and said it was a school outing.

I know if I was Sheridan Green’s dad, I would never let her sleep anywhere near the likes of us. Of me. Because she is in serious danger of getting marked right here and now.

And it’s not just the stolen beer keg talking.

We’ve never hung out before—we run in totally different circles, but somehow we ended up playing frisbee in the water together this afternoon. Now she leans against me in front of the small beach fire someone lit, the skin of her bare shoulder warm against mine, her scent in my nostrils. I haven’t touched her yet, mostly because I don’t trust myself. I can’t even believe we’re hanging out. Homecoming queen, pack royalty, straight A student—she’s everything I’m not. At seventeen, she works in the upper offices of Wolf Ridge with the rest of the royalty, not on the factory floor, like me and my mom.

And she’s the most gorgeous she-wolf this pack has ever seen.

I thought she’d date an alpha kid from another pack, someone like her cousin Garrett, who is and has everything. Or even Jared, who at least has a mid-pack pedigree.

“You know what I can’t figure out, Robson?” Her voice is husky and soft so only I can hear her.

“What’s that, sweetheart?” I take a hit off the joint Jared passed me and offer it to her. She shakes her head, but I don’t sense judgment.

“Why a guy as smart as you sits in the back and screws around during class. If you applied yourself, you could get a full ride to college somewhere.”

My chest tightens but I force a laugh. I wrote off college a long time ago. Probably about the time my eighth grade teacher told me I was as worthless as my imprisoned dad, and I should get my ass into vocational school. “What makes you think I’m smart?”

“You wouldn’t be in the advanced classes if you hadn’t tested in. And you ace every test even though I never see you study.”

She’s been paying attention.

That in itself makes my world shudder and rearrange.

“Nah, school’s not for me. I can’t stand authority.” I flash her my bad boy smile and she leans into me, her forest green eyes lit by the flames.

“You follow his authority.” She lifts her chin in the direction of Garrett Green, our pack leader’s son.

“He’s different.” I mean it. Garrett may be one-hundred percent alpha, but he’s one of us. He doesn’t care for school or authority, either. He won’t toe the party line. He’s told his dad point blank he will never run the brewery. More than anything, though, he’s a friend. He’s as loyal to his mini pack of teen wolves as we are to him. He’d do anything for us.

And I’ve had way too little of that in my life, so yeah—I’m sticking close. Where he goes, I follow. And we sure as hell aren’t going to college to become suits at Wolf Ridge Brewery.

She turns her gaze back to the fire.

Across the way, Garrett howls and strips off his swim trunks. With a whoop of excitement, the rest of the boys follow, dropping their suits and shifting to howl. A bunch of girls, do, too, calling to me and Sheridan. She stands up and hesitates, shooting an unsure glance at me.

As much as I’d give my left nut to see Sheridan Green naked, there’s no fucking way I’m going to let her do it front of the rest of the gang. Yeah, we’ve all been shifting together since we were kids, but that was before puberty. Before our teeth bore the serum capable of permanently marking a female.

“Not here, sweetheart.” I snatch her up by the waist and run, carrying her toward the cluster of tents while she giggles and fights me to put her down.

I drop her in front of her tent and turn my back. “Last one on four legs is a rotten egg!” I shove down my trunks and shift while she’s still ducking into the tent.

She squeals in frustration and then darts out, her tawny coat thick and shining. She runs at top speed down to the water and I chase, nipping her heels, my wolf already ready to mate, to mark.

Down, boy. Sheridan Green is about as far off limits as a nun in the Vatican.

My wolf doesn’t give a shit.

He wants her. Preferably in human form, naked and on the beach.

He wants her tonight.

Sheridan

For a second Trey just stares at me, eyes wide as if I shot him in the chest.

Again.

The pain and shame of that night comes back to me like a black fog rolling over my body. I’ve tried so hard these last twelve years to claw free from it, to believe I did the right thing. Especially since the Tucson pack has done well for itself.

My first boyfriend then turns and kicks the leg of the desk.

“Fuck,” he spits. “Fuck fuck fuck.” He kicks a trash can and it goes flying.

“Lovely,” I drawl, stopping a rolling beer can with my foot. “You always were so eloquent.”

“You were never this much of a bitch,” he shoots back, and I flinch.

“I can’t believe I ever loved you,” I mutter. I don’t mean him to hear but he glances up sharply, anger flushing up his neck. Stupid sensitive wolf hearing.

I raise my chin, daring him to comment.

“What the fuck is this, Sheridan?” There was a time I would melt when he said my name. Very inconvenient to remember that right now. Trey is angry. Very angry. But the wolf in me feels his heat and interprets it differently. She remembers when Trey’s big body and all his anger at the world became fiery passion he unleashed on me. The perfect alchemy.

“You show up after twelve years, talking big… let me explain something, sweetheart.” He jabs a finger in my direction. “You don’t have the authority to shut me down.”

“My alpha does.”

“So you’re going to turn tail and run to him? You were always good at tattling on us. Twelve years hasn’t changed a damn thing.”

I flush. Score one for the angry he-wolf.

“That’s not why you’re here.” Trey crowds me, giving me an eyeful of the flexing muscles of his chest, and suddenly I can’t think straight. “I think you got tired of your pretty little place in the pack and pretty little life. Is that right, sweetheart?” The shaded edges of his neck tattoo fill my vision. It’s hot, almost too hot to breathe. “You always wanted to walk on the wild side. That’s why we were together in the first place. I wanted to get my dirty paws on a pack princess, and you”—his breath warms my ear and I feel dizzy—“you were slummin’.”

He steps back to survey my dazed expression, a satisfied look on his face. My blood rushes faster, faster, and my wolf wants to know why we still have so many clothes on.

“That’s why you’re here.” Trey folds his arms over his broad chest, effectively closing himself off. “Another taste of the dog’s life. Then it’s back to your cushy gig, after you piss all over everything I’ve done. Because you’re still out for revenge.”

“This isn’t personal.”

“The fuck it isn’t.” He tosses his beautiful head, and I recognize the flash of pain beneath the fighter’s stance. It’s the very thing that attracted me to him when we were teens—what gave him depth. He wasn’t another dumb meathead follower of Garrett’s. His emotions ran deep, and though he kept them bottled up most of the time, they came out through his fists, and with me, through passion.

I just want to move close and comfort him. As angry as he is, I know he won’t hurt me. He would never hurt me.

“You still have it out for me.”

“I don’t.” I swallow, trying to wet my mouth. I need to remember why I’m here. I need to remember that Trey is a player, and any attraction I feel for his beautiful fighter’s body will soon be obliterated because deep down he’s a lying, cheating low-down dirty dog. “I represent the pack.”

“Not my pack.”

I want to scream at him, ask why he’s playing stupid. “The Phoenix pack. Wolf Ridge. Your old pack.”

“That never was my pack.” His lips barely move.

“Please,” I scoff. “Tell your mom that. She misses you, by the way. Still works in the factory—I see her every week.”

His eyes narrow. “I talk to her twice a week.”

Okay, maybe that was a low blow, insinuating that he abandoned his mom.

“You know, I’m surprised your father lets you descend from on high to mingle with the commoners.” He prowls around me, and I fight the urge to turn, face him, keep from giving him my back. He’s the biggest predator in the room and my wolf knows it. She shouldn’t be so aroused. A little more arousal in my scent and Trey and anyone who walks in this room will know how I really feel. My wolf wants to climb him like a tall, tattooed tree.

Down girl!

“I’m not a pack princess.”

“Could’ve fooled me. What did they make you when you graduated college? CEO?”

“I’m a VP of Finance.” I cross my arms over my chest. “But I earned it.”

Trey scoffs.

“No really, I did. I interned every summer. By the time I graduated with my MBA, I had worked in every area of the company.”

“Every area?” Despite himself, he sounds impressed.

“Yep. Factory floor, janitor. I even did a summer in marketing at our sponsored and outdoor events. When we were short on staff, I helped out wherever—waitressing, even behind the bar.”

“You slung drinks.” Treys’ voice is dry, disbelieving.

“Yep. “

“Good, we need a bartender who can make change. Wednesday night, 7 p.m. Wear a skirt.” He sneers at my outfit. “But lose the jacket.”

“Aren’t you listening? You can’t run fights here anymore. You’re attracting attention.”

“Then you’re not paying attention, sweetheart.” Trey crowds me, and heat fills my body. I stare up at him. Every nerve’s clanging like a fire alarm. Evacuate now! “There’s no way in hell I’m going to let you shut me down.”

He leans forward, eyes on mine. Angling his head, he takes a good long sniff. “Vanilla and orange,” he purrs in his deep voice, and arousal pools between my legs. “Very nice.”

“It’s the flavor of our new line of seasonal brews,” I parrot my company’s marketing spiel. “Wheat beers. Very popular.” My brain is on autopilot, all available neurons diverted to keeping me from grabbing Trey’s bulging biceps with both hands, and rubbing against him like a cat.

“Whatever it is, I like it. You smell good enough to eat.” His eyes are glinting silver, his wolf peering out at me. Not good.

I slam my heel down on his foot. Hard enough to send my pointy heel through the thick boot leather.

“Ow,” he shouts, jumping back. “What the hell?”

“Darn it,” I hiss, lifting my leg. My heel is broken. I point to his boots. “Are those steel toes?”

“Factory regulation.” His lip curls again. God, is he ever going to look at me with anything but contempt? “You know us Robsons. No sense wasting a college education on us. We work the floor.”

“Stop it,” I snap, no longer upset about my shoe. I hate it when he implies he’s not smart enough. “You have a brain, Trey. I told you that years ago. You just choose not to use it.” I hike up my skirt and prop my foot on the desk, baring my leg right in front of him.

“What are you doing?” Trey chokes out.

A tendril of satisfaction snakes up my throat. I may have lost a heel, but I’m regaining my footing. “Taking off my shoes.” I slide my fingers up my thigh to unsnap my garters. “But first, I have to take off my stockings. Don’t want them to get dirty.”

Trey’s Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. He licks his lips, staring at my legs. “You can’t go out there in bare feet.”

“I’m a tough she-wolf,” I shoot back, skimming the stocking down my calf. I may take a second or two longer than absolutely necessary, but the stunned look on Trey’s face is worth it. “Watch me.”

Trey

For a second, I do. I watch the show, and fates help me, I love it. Sheridan’s slim fingers peel down the stocking, revealing a perfect leg. She removes one, then the other, balls them up and stuffs them into the toe of the broken shoe, straightening to shoot me a triumphant glance. “If you’re not willing to discuss things like a reasonable person, this conversation is over.” Barefoot, she pivots to leave. No fucking way is she walking barefoot across the club—my club—the floor covered in broken glass and dirt and fuck knows what.

Hips swaying, she takes one step out the door.

“Not so fast.” I grab her around the waist and hoist her easily over my shoulder. She struggles, shouting, legs kicking helplessly as I secure her in a fireman’s hold.

“What the heck,” she squawks, but I’m already moving, striding through club, past startled shifters. A few turn and point, hands slapping over their mouths at the sight of me carrying a struggling skirt from my office. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Grizz. The huge bear shifter shakes his head.

“Trey! Put me down right now or so help me—”

“Keep screaming, sweetheart.” I laugh, freeing my right hand to give her sweet ass a smack. “Make sure no one in the place misses the show.”

“I’m going to kill you!” Sheridan bellows, her fists beating my back. She’s strong, but I’m stronger.

“You can try. We’ll call it an audition. We’re thinking of getting some more women fighters in. Maybe have ‘em mud wrestle, naked. I’d pay to see that.”

“You, you—” her voice disintegrates into a growl as she digs her nails in to my ass. The sting shoots straight to my dick. Goddamn Sheridan, causing me pain, my dick just loves her more. She could cut me off at the knees, and I’d still fucking cum.

“That’s it, baby, take a chunk outta a me. I like it rough,” I mutter as I hit the door and step into the night. Sheridan growls, but she stops struggling so hard. I enjoy the last few strides across the parking lot. I head past a gang of curious bikers straight to Sheridan’s car. The white Mercedes convertible that her dad got her as a graduation present. A perfect gift for his perfect little angel.

I drop her right into the front seat, as gently as I can, before backing away quickly. Don’t want to get my dick punched. “Where are you staying?” I have to ask—nothing will stop the need in me to take care of her—make sure she’s safe.

She looks up at me, hair tousled and cheeks flushed and eyes glowing with rage and...something more. “I rented an Airbnb on Meyer Street. Over by the convention center.”

I can’t focus on her words because the scent of her arousal hits me and I trip backwards. Oh fates. She’s turned on.

“Well, check out of it, sweetheart,” I tell her. “Don’t come back.”

She drives out in a spray of gravel. I stand, unflinching, as the stones shower my jeans. The sting is nothing I don’t deserve.

“Trey.” A tall dark shape emerges from the murky shadows around the bikes. My best friend, Jared, prowls forward, his forehead wrinkled in disbelief. He hooks a thumb in the direction of the retreating Mercedes. “Was that…”

“Yup,” I answer and turn on my heel to stalk back into the club. I don’t want to talk about it.

Sheridan Green. Fuck.