Chapter 3

BETHANY CAUGHT HIM just as he reached the bottom. “Coop, I need to talk to you about the juveniles.”

“Whatever they’ve done,” he growled, continuing on toward the exit, “handcuff the lot of them and put them in the brig. I’ll spring them in a few years when they’re full-grown adults.”

“Funny.” The short, curly-haired maternal female, her mouth bracketed by laugh lines that told of a life well lived, said, “Some of us remember when you were the worst of the lot. Wasn’t it a pink ribbon? Or did you sport the purple and Riaz the pink?”

Wincing, he halted. “You have the memory of an elephant, Aunt Beth.”

“It comes in handy when I need blackmail material.” Dimples dented her round cheeks, a mischievous expression in the dark, dark eyes that marked them as kin. “Which, in this case, is unnecessary. The juveniles have been good.”

“Did you drug their soup?”

She threatened to pull his ear—probably would have if he didn’t top her by over a foot. “About fifteen of them joined up to clear that invasive weed that somehow made its way into one of the streams. Spent the whole weekend at it, and as of today, the weed is history. It’d be nice if you could swing by.”

“I’ll do it now.” He glanced at the small comm screen set into the den wall, saw it was almost midday. “Kids had lunch?”

“I took them a couple of baskets.” Bethany patted him on the chest. “With enough for a big, strong lieutenant.”

“Sometimes I think you take me for granted.” Leaning down, he kissed her cheek, the scent of her inciting a keen protectiveness.

It was Bethany who’d taken him in as a grieving, angry sixteen-year-old, enfolding him in love. What she hadn’t done was attempt to reverse the sudden adulthood that had been shoved on him that cold, rainy night—because some things couldn’t be changed, and the loss of his childhood had been a permanent one.

“However,” he added when she stood on tiptoe to smooth his T-shirt across his shoulders, “I’ll fall in with your cunning plans.”

“You always were a good boy, Cooper, even during your hellion juvenile years.” Her smile was an echo of his mother’s, caused a familiar ache in his chest. “Now go, before they inhale lunch. You’ll be lucky to find a few bones to gnaw on.”

The teenagers had in fact resisted the lure of the sandwiches, cake, and fruit, and were checking the final section of the stream with industrious eyes when he arrived. Visibly perking up at his presence, they clustered around to show him what they’d done.

“I’m proud of you,” he said after listening to their explanations of the project, his wolf in pleased agreement.

The juveniles beamed, tugged him to another part of the stream.

When two younger kids showed up in pup form a few minutes later, he scooped them up before they could poke their curious noses into the picnic baskets. “Behave or it’s back to the nursery with you.”

The miscreants pretended to claw him, growling and snarling. Laughing, he tapped their noses in a light reprimand and put them on their feet, where they leaned their small, warm bodies against his legs as he finished speaking to the teenagers. By the time the group sat down to lunch—the two pups shifting form to curl up against him and eat more cake than was good for them—the tension had left his muscles.

Nothing could alter the fact that he was an aggressive dominant, but as the pups and juveniles showed, he had the capacity to earn the trust of even the pack’s most vulnerable. It would take time with Grace, the trust he asked of her a piercing intimacy, but Cooper had been called a stubborn bastard more than once. It wasn’t an unfair accusation.

And he was determined to seduce, pet, and coax Grace into his arms.

Where he planned to keep her.

All night.

All day.

Always.

•   •   •

HALF relieved, half disappointed that she hadn’t seen Cooper again since his declaration of courtship, Grace put her tools away in her office, then stripped off her black coveralls to reveal the jeans and sleek black tank she wore underneath. She was hungry after the long day, should’ve gone home. But pulling on her favorite blue sweater, the fabric fine rather than heavy, she checked her hair and face in the mirror, then turned in the direction of the indoor training arena where she’d heard Cooper was working with some of the novice soldiers.

Seeing the access door up ahead, she used her palm print to get through, then shut it behind her. The good thing about being in systems maintenance was that she knew all of the hidden nooks and crannies of the den. This particular accessway led to another door on the inner wall of the training arena, and that door had a window to ensure maintenance personnel didn’t accidentally walk out into a dangerous training situation.

Grace made her way to that window with quick steps, happy to see that it was clean, as mandated by the safety regs. Beyond the glass, it appeared the novices had been split into two teams and were “at war,” though she could see kicks being pulled and punches turned into light taps. Still, people occasionally went down—someone was calling points she realized, and a certain number equaled incapacitated or dead.

She saw a disappointed novice go to his knees before her attention was captured by the adult male who came over, hauled the lanky youth to his feet, and proceeded to show him where he’d gone wrong. Cooper’s actions were powerful, his expression intent. The younger man nodded, copied the moves Cooper had demonstrated while compensating for his own lighter body mass, and grinned when his intelligence earned him a slap on the back.

Grace couldn’t keep her eyes off the lieutenant, a problem she’d had since the day she moved into the den. It was amazing how many times she could find a fault that needed checking right next to where Cooper might be running a training session or working out on his own. Now, she saw him call the battle to a halt, and from the victorious cheer that thundered over the left side of the room, he’d declared a winner. A minute later, the novices cleared the floor to position themselves against the walls.

Into the open space walked a senior soldier who’d been helping to supervise the session. As she watched, Shamus stripped off his T-shirt and threw it aside. She wrenched her head toward Cooper to see if he was doing the same. He was. Rippling muscle under hot, dark silk, a fine pelt of black hair on his chest, his cheeks creased as he laughed at something Shamus had said; he was the most beautiful man she had ever seen.

Dressed only in cargo pants, their feet bare, the two dominants took position against one another and began to go through a combat routine even Grace could tell was in half time, a teaching aid for the novices. Shamus was well built—sexy, she supposed—but all Grace could see was Cooper, his fluid actions akin to rough music. How might that strong, trained body move in other, far more intimate situations?

Even as her teeth sank into her lower lip, even as her breath caught, her wolf paced, agitated and confused. It reminded her that Cooper’s demands would be fierce, his need furious. The possibility that she might not be up to the task of satisfying him made her mood go dark, especially when she finally turned her awareness to the men and women who watched the bout—to see that three other adults had joined the group. All were female, and two of them had their eyes on Cooper.

Grace took careful mental note of their identities. Maybe she’d switch the air in their quarters to freezing, ensure they didn’t have any hot water for good measure. The wicked thoughts were gratifying, but nothing came close to seeing Cooper’s body flex with predatory grace as he and Shamus stepped it up a notch. It was breathtaking to witness, the dance as primal as it was violent.

Her heart was in her throat when they came to a sudden, unexpected halt…and Cooper’s head whipped around, his eyes locking with Grace’s.

•   •   •

COOPER shifted his attention back to Shamus after that instant’s distraction. He was dead certain he’d caught the finest trace of Grace’s scent—peaches, luscious and ripe, intertwined with a softness that was pure, sensual woman.

His woman.

Slamming up a hand to block a kick to the head, he twisted around with a kick of his own. “Full speed,” he called, and the two of them went into the final stage of the display, its purpose to demonstrate to the novices how simple moves could be put together to lethal effect.

Afterward, he listened as Shamus questioned the group. They didn’t do too badly, and Cooper released the class after pairing them up for a self-practice session the following day. As the novices left, he saw Shamus go over to his math teacher mate. Dark-eyed, black-haired “Ms. Lopez”—as the pups called her—had come in toward the end of the session and now hugged her mate hello, the couple nuzzling one another in wolfish affection.

“I thought you two had a room!” Cooper called out across the training arena.

The newly mated couple grinned before Shamus wrapped one arm around Emma and said, “Green is not a good color on you, Coop. And we’re going to that room now, where I plan to do things to Teach you can only dream about in your cold, lonely bed.”

Cooper saw Emma slap at Shamus’s chest for that shameless boast as the two of them disappeared out the door.

Grinning, he met the laughing gazes of the two senior soldiers who’d come in with Emma. “What did you think?”

Margot was the one who answered, blue eyes dancing. “About Shamus’s plans, or the novices?”

Vitoria blew a wild curl out of her eyes, her hair an explosion of bronze and black with the odd thread of unexpected red-blonde. “Scuttlebutt is that Emma was missing at lunch today and so was Shamus.”

“I can do you one better.” Margot paused for dramatic effect, the sun-golden skin of her face marked by a faint greenish bruise caused by a rogue baseball. “Apparently when Shamus stripped off to shift a couple of hours ago, it was pointed out that he might possibly have carpet burns on his butt.”

Cooper’s wolf huffed with laughter as both women cracked up, but damn it, he was jealous. He wanted to sneak a certain deliciously sexy engineer away for a lunchtime snack of his own, carpet burns optional. “Leaving aside Shamus’s sex life,” he said when the laughter subsided, “what about the novices?”

“I like how they listen but still ask questions,” Margot said. “Shows they’re thinking for themselves without getting cocky.”

Vitoria nodded. “We were saying we could take the next class—we’ve taught that one before.”

“Great.” It’d give him more time to court Grace. “I’ll let Shamus know.”

When the women continued to look at him, he put down the water bottle he’d drained and raised an eyebrow.

Margot’s responding smile was playful. “Aw, come on, Coop. You know.”

“I know you two are best friends,” he murmured, “but if you’re offering what I think you’re offering, I didn’t know you were that close.”

Vitoria snorted. “We’re not. We just figured we’d play fair and give each other the same shot. So?” A warm invitation in eyes of jade green brilliant against skin the color of pure, unadulterated coffee. “We’ve noticed you’ve been abstaining.”

Damn pack. Nosy as hell. “It’s by choice,” he said bluntly, knowing the women wouldn’t take it as an insult, as he hadn’t their affectionate offer to assuage his increasing touch hunger—a hunger focused on one woman and one woman only. He wanted Grace’s hands on his body or no one’s. “I’m taken.”

Two pairs of eyes lit up in unholy delight.

“Do tell.” Margot sidled closer. “We’ll keep it a secret.”

He was the one who snorted this time. “Wolves gossip like old women.” It was the flip side to their incredible loyalty—everyone wanted to poke his or her nose into everyone else’s business. “I’ll tell when I’m ready to tell.” Not that it wouldn’t become obvious soon enough. He didn’t plan to pursue Grace in secret; he wasn’t the subtle type. Though since he was meant to be on his best behavior, he’d try to give her a fraction more breathing room to get accustomed to the idea of him.

“This should be fun.” Vitoria actually rubbed her hands. “Who would dare give Coop the runaround?”

“None of your business.” It was a growl.

Rising on her toes, Vitoria kissed him on the cheek, bracing her hand on his shoulder. “You know we only care because we love you.”

Another kiss on his opposite cheek, this one from Margot, the soldier tall enough that she didn’t have to reach like Vitoria. “Soooooo…her name starts with…?”

Laughing at their playful teasing, he snapped his teeth. “Out. I have things to do.” A certain submissive wolf to catch.

Vitoria and Margot made faces at him but obeyed the order. It left him alone in the training arena. The first thing he did was walk to the service door and pull it open. The luscious scent of ripe peaches warmed against a certain woman’s creamy skin whispered into his lungs, strong enough that he knew she’d been here not long ago.

His lips curved.

His mood more cheerful than it had been for six long months, he shut the door and headed to his quarters to shower. Pulling on a pair of black cargo pants and an olive green T-shirt afterward, he ran a hand over his chin, felt the stubble, and decided to shave. That done, he slapped on some aftershave, figured it was the best he’d ever look. Pretty he wasn’t.

What if Grace liked pretty?

Biting back a growl, he grabbed the little box he’d been hoarding for over seven weeks. He was about to walk out the door when he realized that the moment his packmates spotted the shimmery blue wrapping paper and silver bow, they’d stalk him with brazen relish. Digging out the small backpack he used to carry his water and food when he wanted to go into the forest in human form, he stowed the box inside and slung the pack over his shoulder.

Several people said hello as he walked through the den, and he returned the greeting but didn’t stop. No one paid him much mind when he knocked on Grace’s door—everyone was used to seeing him talk to people from different parts of the den, and in the absence of her two immediate superiors, Grace was the one in charge of her department.

“Just a second!” In spite of her words, it took Grace at least two minutes to open the door, and from her flustered expression and damp hair, she’d been in the shower.

The image of her creamy skin soap slick and slippery wasn’t good for Cooper’s self-control. Patience, he snarled at himself, wrenching so hard on the reins that his wolf yipped in protest and his voice came out a near growl. “Can I come in?”