Chapter Four

 

Grant paced back and forth in the lounge, still wearing just his boxers. Werewolves were very comfortable with their bodies. Modesty was for humans.

Celeste had been escorted off the premises once her ruse was discovered, with threats of arrest if she ever tried to come near the lodge again. He doubted she’d be back. That was a good thing, right? So why was his wolf snarling and pacing, clawing at the inside of his skin? Why did he want to chase her down and bring her back; drag her back if he had to? She damn sure wasn’t prey – not from the way she’d given him her back, a gesture of fearless contempt.

Furious thoughts were churning through his head, making him dizzy. Why had she lied to him about him being a father? It had to be a lie.

Rage roiled inside him. The moment Celeste had walked into the room, his wolf had practically leaped out of his skin. This was why he’d been so irritable for the past few days, he was sure of it. His wolf had sensed her presence and howled for release – to pursue its mate.

Some werewolves embraced the concept of “True Mates”. His older brother and pack Alpha Cliff, the biggest cynic, the least romantic man in the world, had suddenly become a true believer when he’d met Taylor.

Grant no longer believed. At least, he hadn’t until one hour ago.

Oh, he had been hugely infatuated with Jennifer when he’d first met her, but it had been different. She’d appealed to his protective instincts, playing to his Alpha side. She’d seemed all sweet and helpless, like she really needed him, and he’d wanted to keep her safe. And when the end had come…he’d been hurt to the very core to find out just how thoroughly she’d played him.

But it hadn’t been like this. The feeling that had zapped through him the moment he’d laid eyes on Celeste – hell, even before he’d laid eyes on her, when he’d just sensed her presence – he’d never experienced anything like that before.

It was as though a silver wire, slender but unbreakable, ran from him to her, drawing them together, tugging at his heart with every move she made. He ached to take her in his arms, run his hands down the curve of her spine and feel her body yield beneath his touch. He wanted to press his lips against hers and take sweet, life-giving sips of her spirit, feeding her and consuming her until that thread was wrapped around them, knotted and tangled and binding them so tightly that they could never be separated.

Was she really his True Mate – the twin sister of a lying, manipulative thief? A hustler who wanted to shake him down for money by pretending he had fathered a child? If so, the universe was playing a bitterly unfunny joke on him.

Taylor, Chantelle and Mandy were standing together, watching him with wary expressions. A group of werewolves that had just been in a meeting was pouring into the hallway. The mood in the room grew tenser. A group of the old guard werewolves, headed up by powerful Montana pack leader Anthony Craddock, were clashing with the more progressive werewolves, headed up by Grant’s brother Cliff. They were digging their paws in every step of the way.

They didn’t want a national database, they didn’t like computers, they didn’t want or need anyone’s help, blah blah blah. Grant could practically scent the testosterone as the two groups jostled each other. Ford Blackwood , one of the men in the progressive camp, “accidentally” bumped into Anthony’s beta Cyrus, drawing forth a furious snarl.

Cyrus shoved his way towards Ford, bumping into Talbot Moore, who designed computer security systems. Talbot’s ice-blue eyes sparked with annoyance, but he held up his hands and said “Easy. We’re all facing the same threat here.” He was being unusually calm and reasonable; he was known for exploding into wolf form at a moment’s notice. However, he had a vested interest in convincing everyone to cooperate here. He’d be designing and maintaining the software for the central registry, and he’d make a fortune off it because every pack would be paying a hefty fee for it.

Rusty, the big redheaded shifter who was Chantelle’s mate, had a scowl on his face, but he lit up when he saw her. He waved at her and started walking towards her.

Taylor looked at Grant, frowning. “I am not an expert in the ways of the grift. But if Celeste were a grifter, wouldn’t she have taken that money?”

Grant was one step away from shifting and running amok. He did not need this concerned-big-sister routine right now. “Did I ask your opinion? Did I ask you to be here?”

Chantelle leaped to the defense of her friend. “Grant, quit being such a whiny little crybitchy, and figure out if you have a kid or not. Boo-hoo, someone broke your heart seven years ago. Quit using it as an excuse to be an asshole, and go find that woman.”

“Fuck off,” Grant growled at her.

“What the hell did you just say to my mate?” Rusty shouted at him. Was he suicidal? Grant was a Dominus, Rusty wasn’t.

“I said the same thing to her that I’ll say to you. Fuck off.”

Rusty’s enormous fist connected with Grant’s chin, right before he shifted into a large red wolf. Grant shifted too, into an enormous gray wolf. As Grant lunged at Rusty, Chantelle turned into a little, very mean white wolf in the blink of an eye, launched through the air, and fastened herself to Grant’s flank. Grant spun in a circle, wildly trying to shake her off. Blood ran down his side and stained his fur, but she still clung on.

“Freaking Alphas,” Taylor muttered. Yeah, they’d all heal fast, but could they never find a way to resolve their issues without bloodshed?

She would fight as a last resort, but not because she was in a pissy mood.

Annoyed, she moved back out of the way, her nose wrinkling at the coppery smell of blood. She stayed in human form. Talbot Moore was still in human form too.

“Congrats on your self-control,” Taylor said. Talbot’s eyes had gone dark, and fur rippled over his face, but he was still standing upright and wearing clothing.

“This solves nothing.” It came out in a half-growl. “We need to work together. Pack of morons.” He shook his head at the howling, snapping pile of fur.

A wolf snarled at Taylor, and Talbot quickly stepped in front of her.

“Planning on killing me?” he said coolly to the wolf. “Or biting a woman?”

Cliff barreled towards them, his face flushed with fury. He didn’t even bother shifting; he kicked the snarling wolf in the ribcage, sending it flying.

“Change!” he bellowed at the crowd of snapping, growling wolves, and sent out a wave of power. He was a Dominus going up against other wolves with the Dominus gene, but they hadn’t been expecting it, and his bloodline was especially powerful. Half a dozen of them changed back, shouting with pain. Being forced to change was excruciating.

The remaining wolves backed away from each other, panting and slavering. Many were bleeding and limping, but they’d all be healed by tomorrow. Werewolves healed fast; Alphas healed faster.

“Are you all right? Did he hurt you?” Cliff demanded of Taylor. She knew if she answered in the affirmative, the wolf was as good as dead.

She smiled reassuringly. “He didn’t lay a paw on me. Or a fang. I am totally fine.”

One by one, the wolves changed back into their human forms, naked now. A bunch of the groupies hurried over, giggling and flirting. Testosterone was an aphrodisiac for them.

“Ooh, you were so ferocious!” a blonde cooed to one of the growling Alphas.

He looped his arm around her waist. “I’ll show you how ferocious I can be.” He grinned. “What’s your name again?”

 

Two hours later, Grant sat at the lodge’s bar. His side itched as the wounds sealed themselves back up. He was working on his thirtieth double shot of tequila.

“Fucking shifter metabolishm,” he grumbled. “Can’t get shmashed when I wanna get shmashed. Keep ’em coming,” he added to Yasmine, the bartender. She’d been working the front desk earlier, but at night they had her behind the bar. The men liked the eye-candy.

“I know what might distract you,” she cooed. “I heard you broke up with that nasty blonde Mandy. I can take your mind off your troubles.”

“She’sh not nashty. She’sh my friend.” He knocked back another triple shot of tequila. “My only friend.”

“I could be your friend.” She reached out to take the empty glass, and let her fingers trail over his hand.

He jerked his hand away as if her fingers were red hot. “Could be, but you aren’t.”

Her smile twitched but stayed in place. “You seem tense. I give an amazing massage.”

He stared moodily off into space, barely hearing her. “That’sh nishe. Good for your boyfriend.”

“Oh, I don’t have a boyfriend. I’m very, very single.” She leaned over the counter. “And you’re single.”

He finally met her eager gaze. “Yeah. I like it that way. Give me a triple shot.”

Her smile faltered, but she quickly served him his drink, and he tossed it back in one gulp.

“After I give you your massage…who knows what might happen next?” She leaned so far over the bar, she was in danger of falling over. “If you got to know me, you’d really, really like me.” The woman’s voice was drilling into his head, and without looking at her, he got up and walked away.

Images of Jennifer flooded through his mind. Jennifer – shy and sweet and vulnerable.

Jennifer, the first woman he’d opened his heart up to.

Jennifer, who had proceeded to cut that heart out of his chest with a rusty knife.

Of course, his father hadn’t helped matters when he’d kidnapped Grant and held him captive for weeks to keep him away from her. There had been no way his son was going to mate with a human – and worse, a dirt-poor human with no family. They were the wealthy, internationally famous Bronsons. Grant would mate with a werewolf of equal wealth and prestige.

His father had also hacked into Jennifer’s Skype account and gloated as he forced Grant to watch videos of Jennifer with her real boyfriend, a rogue lone wolf named Boone Mulcaster. Apparently whenever Jennifer was with Boone, she suddenly became double-jointed.

When she hadn’t had her legs behind her ears, she and Boone had eagerly discussed how they were going to fleece Grant for everything he was worth. Fake being pregnant. Trick him into mating her. Demand half his assets, or she’d reveal that he was a werewolf. Yeah, Boone had told her all about werewolves. There was a kill on sight order out on Boone because of that, but so far the slippery bastard had eluded capture.

By the time Lloyd Bronson released his son, Grant had wanted nothing to do with Jennifer. He’d gone overseas to Europe for a year, drowning himself in booze and women until he’d been thoroughly sick of both.

Since he’d come back home, women had been constantly pestering him to mate with them. And there was the pressure for a wealthy Alpha to permanently settle down and start having cubs – which was not going to happen.

Not after he’d realized how little he could trust his own heart. To discourage the endless stream of women throwing themselves at him, he made sure he always had a female companion with him – women who were paid to hang out with him and keep the other women at bay.

It had worked for years, until Jennifer’s twin sister had showed up and blown his cover. Not only that, his physical and emotional reaction to her was batshit crazy.

And now he couldn’t get her out of her mind. Damn her, damn her, damn her.

Through a haze of anger and self-pity, he saw that Cliff and Taylor were hurrying towards him.

He struggled to form words. “Get the flock… Get the frack…” He swayed where he stood.

Then he saw the look on Cliff’s face, and an adrenaline surge sobered him up considerably.

“What?” he snapped.

“There’s a woman from Nevada Child Protective Services at the gate. She says she’s here to take custody of your son.”