They’d gotten word out to the entire pack just in time. Trak heard Tuck’s big truck coming up the drive and glanced at the group up on the deck. It didn’t take long for Trak’s pack to come up with a reason for a party, especially since the women had joined. The end of a successful season in the resort business plus Darnell showing up were both good reasons to break out the margaritas and munchies. Christa and Steph, Cherry’s sister and her girlfriend, had just arrived but already had drinks in hand. Cain had a towel around his waist, playing the proper bartender and pouring refills for Darnell and Cherry. Jules had walked down to Growl to get Drew, Manny, and Lawz.
And Evan? Well, Evan looked as if he’d finally found his slice of heaven in a cute little Hollywood makeup artist who seemed awfully comfortable—not only with Evan but also with the folks who’d shown up to greet her. She already knew most of them, and there wasn’t a shy bone in her body, as far as he could tell. But the best part? Evan.
Evan had a blissed-out expression on his face, sitting beside Darnell, his beer untouched, his smile unwavering.
Trak envied him. He wasn’t sure if he was looking forward to the next few hours or dreading it. A rogue female wolf. He’d never heard of such a thing, but he trusted Elle and Tuck. He’d decided to close the bar, since the party was obviously here at the lodge, and figured Growl would be the best place to have a talk with the woman. Consuela de los Lobos. He’d had Cherry do a quick search for her, but she hadn’t had time to go very deep. There’d possibly been a flower shop in Washington State, but they’d find more out once she arrived.
He was definitely curious to hear her story, and a little apprehensive as well.
He couldn’t let any of the guys pick up on that—alphas were never supposed to show any weakness, though his pack had certainly rallied round when he’d been recovering from that bullet wound. Still, the last time he’d brought a new member into the pack, it had been Cain Boudin. For many years, that had not gone well. He remembered it like it was yesterday, even though it happened back in 1948, shortly after Cain got out of the military. He’d served honorably with the U.S. Army in Europe during World War II, but Cain wasn’t welcome back to his home pack where he’d challenged his alpha when he’d still been a cocky young man with more balls than brains.
The alpha had graciously spared Cain’s life with the caveat that he get the hell out of Idaho and never come back. The army took Cain first and then Trak had taken him in, but he and Cain had never gotten along well, something that only Cain, and possibly Brad, understood.
Cain was an alpha. A much stronger alpha than Trak, who had feared for years that one day the younger wolf would challenge him and most likely win. Instead, Cain had saved his life this summer when Trak was shot by poachers. And finally, in that single selfless act, Cain had convinced Trak that what he’d been saying all along was true—he might be a powerful alpha, but all he wanted was a home with Brad Martin, the man he loved, and the woman they both adored and shared as their mate.
Trak hoped this rogue wouldn’t be as big a pain in the ass as Cain still managed to be, though at least he didn’t drive Trak batshit crazy the way he had for so many years. In a way, it was nice to have the understanding they now had, though it was hard to break the habit of blaming Cain for everything.
Trak was going to have to think about that for a while, but right now he needed to walk out and meet a woman with the potential to become another new member of their pack.
* * *
Chelo sat in the truck as Tuck and Elle climbed out, but she waited. Waited and watched the man coming down the steps from the deck that surrounded a beautiful lodge, walking with the easy, sexy swagger of an alpha in his prime. He was absolutely beautiful. Even at this distance she felt his power, felt the alpha strength of him merely sitting here, inside the truck, so scared of what could happen that her knees were knocking.
She remembered a young man coming to their alpha, asking for sanctuary. It was a right that every rogue had, to go to a pack alpha, immune to injury while they asked for permission to stay as part of the pack. The rules were that you could not be harmed, that you had the freedom to leave should you not be welcome.
Jorge, her mate, his brother Rube, and their alpha had torn the poor kid limb from limb. She’d had to stand there, her knuckles jammed in her mouth to keep from screaming as they killed without mercy, turning his death into blood sport while the women and their young watched.
She was almost sure that wouldn’t happen to her, but she couldn’t get that horrifying visual out of her head. Then Elle reached for the door handle, opened the door, and Tuck held out a hand to help her down. Trembling, Chelo took his hand and stepped carefully out of the truck.
They were all such large men, these shifters. The men of her pack were big, though not as tall. Broader in the shoulder, thicker bodied—brutes, every single one. Even Tuck, for all his size, was a handsome man. There was nothing brutish about him.
Neither was there anything brutish about the one who was their alpha. He was absolutely gorgeous. Refined, almost regal looking. She’d never seen a man like him, standing there smiling at her, as if waiting to see what she would say. Except she couldn’t say anything. It was as if her jaws were locked.
Thankfully, Elle seemed to realize something was wrong. Smiling, she took Chelo’s icy hand and rubbed it between her warm palms. “Trak, I want you to meet Consuela de los Lobos. She wants us to call her Chelo.”
Trak held out his hand. He was smiling; his dark eyes actually seemed to reflect his humor. Trembling, Chelo slipped her fingers into his hand, and the oddest thing happened.
Her trembling stopped. Immediately.
“Welcome, Chelo.” He glanced at Elle. “Darnell arrived just ahead of you folks, and the party is already rolling. I thought maybe I’d introduce Chelo to the group and then we can go down to Growl where it’s quiet.” Gently, he tugged her around to his side. “Chelo, the young African-American woman at the left end of the table is human. She has no idea who or what we are, so please be circumspect whenever you interact with her.”
Elle laughed. “From the look on Evan’s face, I don’t imagine Darnell’s going to be human much longer.”
“I have a feeling you’re right.” Trak grinned. He had a beautiful smile. “Lucky bastard.”
Chelo wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but Trak was still holding her hand. She couldn’t take her eyes off their clasped fingers. His grasp was strong, but so gentle. She couldn’t recall any gentleness. Not since she’d been kidnapped by the man who raped and then mated her back in 1930.
“Elle and I are going to head on down,” Tuck said. “I could really use a cup of coffee.”
“Sounds good. Get a pot going. Chelo and I will be there in a couple minutes.”
Tuck waved and, taking Elle by the hand, walked back the way they’d driven in. Chelo watched them go, envious of the obvious bond they shared. She’d never seen that. At least not among any of the shifters she’d known.
“C’mon. They won’t bite.” Trak tugged gently, adding softly, “And neither will I.”
Chelo followed him up the stairs. She was so relieved that he didn’t let go of her hand, so afraid she’d start trembling all over again, and she didn’t want to do that. She was tired of being afraid.
“Everyone. Heads up. I want you all to meet Chelo. She’s a florist in Weaverville and we’re hoping she’ll do the flowers for Meg and Zach’s wedding next week. Chelo, you’ll get to know all these reprobates before too long. They’re basically harmless.” He named off everyone at the table, though Chelo knew she’d never remember all their names, but they were all smiling and so nice she wasn’t sure how to behave.
She hoped she said all the right things, but she was really nervous. She didn’t know how to act anymore around decent people. Would she ever have a normal life again? She glanced at the alpha. He smiled back at her and tugged her hand, said good-bye to the ones at the table.
Then, still holding her hand, he led her down the stairs and back down the road she, Tuck, and Elle had just driven in on.
She felt so relieved, she had to remember to breathe.
This was nothing like the Rainy Lake pack. Nothing at all.
Chelo wanted to stay. She wanted to stay so badly she was ready to beg for the privilege.
* * *
Evan watched Trak head down to Growl with the little shifter in tow. He’d been absolutely shocked when Trak introduced her as the florist. Obviously the man knew she was a shifter, but with Darnell sitting here sipping on her margarita it wasn’t like he could announce it to them.
Evan wished he knew her story. She seemed like such a timid little thing, and she had to be rogue to be here in their territory without a pack. Trak would let them know when he could. That was one thing about this pack. They really were more of a democracy. Unusual among werewolf packs. Generally the alpha was the supreme commander of his pack. He wielded the power of life or death over each of the members.
Trak wasn’t like that, thank goodness.
Darnell’s fingers wrapped around Evan’s wrist and she leaned close to whisper something. He tuned out the others at the table. “Cherry asked me if I wanted to stay in one of the cabins.”
She glanced away, like she was checking to make sure no one was listening. Evan wasn’t about to tell her that with their werewolf hearing she might as well have been using a megaphone. “I’m probably being pushy, but I was really hoping to stay with you.”
He nuzzled the soft skin just under her ear and wished he’d kissed her earlier when he’d had the chance. Having her this close to him, breathing in her scent with every breath he took, was killing him. “Since I’m really hoping you’ll stay with me, I figure we’ve got that covered. My cabin’s not far from Growl. We’ll take the truck down later tonight, so you don’t have to unpack your stuff until we get settled. You okay with that?”
Darnell nodded, but her stomach actually clenched. She’d known from the first moment she saw him out by her car that she’d be in Evan’s bed tonight. Wasn’t that what she’d wanted all along?
Hell, yes! She’d wanted it badly enough to blow off a decent contract for an upcoming film, pack her suitcase, stop the mail, and leave town. She’d never done anything like this in her life, but she had to know. There was something about Evan, something that hadn’t let her forget him. Something that, even now, merely sitting beside him, had her more aroused than she could recall. She’d fantasized about him every day, every night, since the first time she saw him.
The time to second-guess herself was over.
* * *
Trak tried to remember the last time he’d walked along a country road holding a girl’s hand. Maybe he never had, but for whatever reason, Chelo’s small hand in his much larger one was the most erotic experience he could recall. She’d been trembling—obviously terrified—when he first took her hand back by the lodge. Within seconds, the trembling had ceased.
He wasn’t about to let go of her now. It appeared Brad knew what he was talking about. They’d all teased Brad when he said he knew that Cherry was going to be his the very first time he saw her, shortly after she and her sister and girlfriend had pulled into the parking lot in front of the lodge.
Trak hadn’t believed, either, but now, walking to the bar with Chelo’s hand in his, he had the most powerful sense of destiny he’d ever felt. Chelo was his. She didn’t know it yet, but that only added to the challenge.
She was nothing like the women he was usually attracted to. Barely five three, with long, dark hair and skin a dark golden shade of honey, she was round and soft, with full breasts and hips. In a lot of ways she reminded him of Cherry with her full figure and nipped-in waist. She certainly did amazing things to a pair of black yoga pants and a dark green knit top.
They were almost to Growl when she paused and, still holding his hand, met his curious gaze. He was surprised at how easily she met his eyes. Most of the guys still subtly averted their eyes from his direct glance, but only a female who was a very strong alpha could look him eye to eye.
“You okay?” he asked. Obviously not. She looked nervous. Afraid even. But she didn’t avert her eyes, didn’t back down.
It was good to know there was a backbone in there!
“What are we going to do at Growl? That’s the pack’s bar where we’re going, right? We drove past it.”
He smiled. Tried his best to look reassuring, because if anyone ever looked as if they needed reassurance it was Chelo. “Yes. Actually, it’s mine, but the guys think they own it.” He laughed. “It’s not worth the argument. Anyway, we’re going there because Elle said I need to hear your story from you directly and there’s no privacy at the lodge, not with everyone on the deck having drinks. I thought it would be more comfortable for you. She and Tuck will be there as your advocates. Witnesses to what you say, pack members who want you to feel safe. Are you okay with that? If you’d rather tell me in private, I’m fine with that. And no matter what you say, none of what we discuss will leave the room.”
She closed her eyes and sighed. “Thank you. I feel so stupid, but one time when a young male rogue showed up in my old pack’s territory they didn’t give him a chance to ask for asylum. The alpha led a couple of other guys against him and they just tore the boy to pieces in front of all of us. It was a long time ago, but I still hear his screams, still have nightmares.”
There were no words. Trak stood there, trying to figure out what kind of hell this poor woman had lived through. Finally, he cleared his throat, took a deep breath. Let it out. “I honestly don’t know how to respond, except to say that would never, never,” he emphasized, “happen here. I may be the alpha, but we’re a team more than a pack. I’m captain of that team, but I’m not omnipotent and these guys always let me know if I’ve screwed up.”
He winked and smiled at her, hoping to help her relax. “Of course, that never happens.”
She nodded, and he felt it like a punch to the gut when she smiled and said, “Obviously.”
He tugged and they started walking again. “Well, it sounds good in theory, don’t you think?”
She was actually laughing when he shoved open the door to Growl and the two of them stepped into the dark little bar. This had been their gathering place for almost a hundred years, updated now with electricity and a decent refrigerator, though the wood-burning stove in the corner still provided heat in the winter.
It was home, as far as Trak was concerned. This was where they’d always handled pack business, a place where they could relax and forget who was the alpha, which one of them was the pack enforcer, a job Cain had held without any problem at all for almost seventy years. Trak’s mind kept going back to Cain, to the guy he’d treated badly for so long, and he hated to admit that Cain had been the better man, not merely the stronger wolf.
Trak owed him. A lot of the nature of the Trinity Alps pack was due to Cain’s even hand whenever things got dicey. Which they did, on occasion, though now, with most of the guys mated, Trak had noticed a definite sense of calm that hadn’t been here before.
“Hey, Chelo.” Elle was standing behind the bar with the blender on the counter and a bottle of tequila beside it. “You want coffee or a margarita? Tuck’s the caffeine addict, but those drinks the girls were having sure looked good.”
Chelo glanced at Trak. He squeezed her hand. “You don’t need my permission. I’m guessing you’re at least twenty-one.”
She giggled and slapped a hand over her mouth. “I was born in 1903. Guess that makes me old enough.” She turned to Elle. “I would love a margarita. I’ve never had one before.”
Elle just shook her head. “Every time one of you old-timers mentions your birth date, it purely blows my mind, but not nearly as much as hearing you’ve never had a margarita.”
The whir of the blender crunching up ice drowned out everything for a few seconds.
“Trak?” Tuck walked out of the tiny kitchen in back with a plate filled with sandwiches. “I’ve got a pot of coffee on, but I hear a beer calling your name.”
“Good hearing. That sounds better than coffee. I don’t know how you drink that stuff all day. I’d still be wide-awake at three in the morning.” He pulled a chair out for Chelo and she sat at the round table, but he’d been fully aware of her watching them, the way they interacted. As if they were all some breed of exotic creatures. Feeling overly protective, he took the seat beside her. Tuck set the sandwiches on the table, grabbed the beer Elle handed across the bar to him, and gave it to Trak.
Elle brought over two margaritas and placed one in front of Chelo with a flourish and then grabbed the coffee she’d poured for Tuck.
“I know it’s late for lunch,” Tuck said, “but Brad left these here for us in case we went into the dinner hour. And you know me. I’m always hungry.”
Elle patted his hand. “S’okay. You’re a big boy.” She kissed his cheek and Tuck blushed. Trak glanced at Chelo and wanted to take her hand again. She looked so terribly sad, he almost hated to ask her why she’d left her pack.
He honestly wasn’t sure he was strong enough to ask her to relive what must have been a horrible experience.
She took a sip of the margarita, though, and her eyes lit up. “That’s really good.” She took another big swallow.
Smiling broadly, Elle put her hand on Chelo’s wrist. “Take it slow. If you’ve never had one, they pack a punch.”
“Yeah,” Trak said. “Elle’s sneaky. She puts a slice of lime in it and salt around the rim to make you think you’re drinking something good for you, but we all know better.”
This time Chelo sipped. “Thank you for the warning. Passing out in your bar probably isn’t the way to make a good first impression.”
Trak handed half a turkey sandwich to her. “Eat this. It’ll soak up the alcohol.”
Nodding sagely, she took a bite of the sandwich and a much smaller sip of her drink.
* * *
Darnell covered her mouth to hide the third yawn in the past ten minutes. They’d been sitting out here on the deck for a couple of hours, the sun was still high in the sky, but she’d had a long drive, a lot of exhausting emotions bubbling in her bod, and at least one too many margaritas. She definitely didn’t want to pass out—again—on this, her first real night with Evan.
Leaning against his shoulder, she looked up at him, at the strong jaw shaded with a healthy five o’clock shadow and the dark tuft under his full lower lip. His dark blond hair was always tousled, his gray eyes surprisingly intense despite his laid-back mannerisms.
He hid a surprising intelligence and a wry sense of humor beneath that “aw shucks” persona he played to the hilt. She wondered why. Hoped she’d have enough time with him to find out. Wondered what he’d say if she told him she wanted a lifetime with him.
He glanced at her and smiled, leaned close, and kissed her very gently. “You look ready to fold. Want to go to the cabin, get settled?” He wiggled his eyebrows. “I can promise clean sheets on the bed.”
She stared at him for a long moment. Pictured him naked and had to shut her eyes or moan out loud. “Sounds perfect, but I definitely need a shower. I probably stink.”
He nuzzled her hair. “Actually, no. You don’t stink at all. You smell like limes.”
Laughing, she stood and pulled him to his feet. “That’s the lime in my margarita, big guy. C’mon, before you have to carry me.”
He let her tug him to his feet. “Been there, done that. You weren’t much fun, but you sure sleep cute.”
Smiling, she waved to the rest of the group but turned away, ignoring Evan, and stomped down the stairs. When he caught up to her, she turned and glared at him. It was hard not to laugh. “Would you consider never reminding me of that again? My most humiliating night ever?”
He scooped her up and slung her over his shoulder. She squeaked but managed not to scream. “Maybe. If you give me another visual to replace that one.”
Darnell planted her hands on his back and raised her head. “Isn’t anyone gonna rescue me?”
“You?” Cain stood at the railing, laughing. “And here I was worried about Evan.”