Book 2 Not his Werewolf Read online

  Angie gave him a hug. “Go steal her heart.” Then she returned to her work room without a backward glance. She would be at the event. He knew because he organized the whole thing and had seen her name listed under the vendors. She’d be offering free back scratching for donations.

  Beth came around her desk and handed over the notepad. “A canoe ride to Remshaws for dinner, then a moonlit walk along the shore after dessert. Make sure to order dessert even if she pretends not to want any.”

  He fingered the page. “Remshaws? That’s a hard place to get a reservation. How did you manage it on such short notice?”

  “Ryota has a standing reservation for two every Thursday night. I know he’s not using it tonight because I called him and booked a scratching session with Angie at the same time as the reservation.” She held out her arms for a hug. “Am I awesome or what?”

  He gave her a quick squeeze. “You’re awesome.”

  “I want details tomorrow.”

  Ken snorted. “Keep dreaming. I don’t kiss and tell.” Not to mention he didn’t want those details all over social media. Shifters were the worst gossips and the beta of New Port Pack finding his soulmate was the hottest topic. He was sure.

  The roads to Betty’s rescue were lined with cars, bumper to bumper. Rush hour on the back roads of the city. He lived off the interstate and had forgotten about this crawl from traffic light to traffic light. He watched as the green light turned red for the second time yet he hadn’t moved forward an inch. Gnashing his teeth, he spotted some drivers getting out of their cars.

  He threw back his head against the rest. Now what? Shoving the driver’s side door open, he exited his vehicle then stalked ahead of the traffic.

  A car halfway down the block was the source of the blockage. On hands and knees, a man was trying to jack lift his car. A flat tire and no place to park.

  “Need a hand?” Ken crouched next to the driver. He smelled like rodent. Rat shifter to be specific.

  “The jack is broken. It keeps lowering so I have to stop to up it back up.” He met Ken’s stare. Rat shifters didn’t fear anything, even when they should.

  Ken hooked his jacket on the car antenna and rolled up his sleeves. “You have ten minutes to change that tire so get your shit ready.” He moved to the fender and searched for solid handholds along the frame. “Ready?”

  “Yeah, man.” The wiry little shifter looked like he was about to take part in a pit crew. “Go.”

  Ken lifted the old vehicle. It was made of solid steel. Ken’s muscles trembled as he listened to the sound of a tire hitting the ground and bolts tightening.

  “Okay, man. All done.” The rat shifter stood, wiping his hands on his jeans. “Thanks, that was really nice of you.”

  “No, it’s not. I’m late for a date and you’re blocking my route.”

  “You look familiar. Wolf pack, right?”

  Ken fixed his suit jacket after putting it back on then eyed the other shifter. “Yeah…” He didn’t socialize with any of the rats.

  The stranger gave him an amused grin. “Is your name Ken?” He held up his smart phone.

  Ken peered at the screen. His picture pasted with soulmate status.

  Beth…

  “I peerchat with your omega.”

  Great, not only did his whole pack know he’d found his soulmate, the whole fucking shifter community knew it as well.

  “Good luck.” The stranger raised his hand, about to slap Ken’s shoulder.

  He aimed a glare in his direction and the rat shifter stopped mid-air, having second thoughts about the familiar gesture.

  By the time Ken stormed back to his car, traffic started moving again. About time too. He just might make it on time.

  He fought the urge to speed. The last thing he needed was a ticket.

  One block from Betty’s home, a protest marched on the sidewalk in front of the courthouse. They held signs with sayings “No more bullies!” and “Equal rights for non-predator shifters!”

  Ken stopped at the crosswalk to let them pass. He had no qualms with prey shifters. Their instincts differed and he respected that, except this group stopped in front of his car, marching back and forth over the crosswalk.

  He closed his eyes and counted to ten, but only made it to five when the clock on his dashboard caught his attention. Enough. He jumped out of his vehicle, sensing his eyes shift. His claws pressed at his fingertips but hadn’t pierced out of his skin yet.

  The protesters froze.

  Ken could barely think, let alone string intelligent words into sentences. They blocked his path to his mate, who he hadn’t seen in over eight hours. Bending his head back, he howled.

  Store windows rattled and protestors scattered.

  That was better. He took a deep breath and pulled his shit together. Uncontrolled shifts shouldn’t occur to a werewolf of his caliber. As beta, he had to set an example to the pack. That had been a close one.

  He drove, turning onto Betty’s street and parked in front of the rescue. The shifter staring back at him in the rearview mirror looked haggard. He finger-combed his hair and straightened his tie before stepping out.

  The front door to the rescue swung open and an angel appeared. Betty’s dark hair fell in big soft curls over her shoulders. A gauzy yellow dress clung to her curves and flowed to her knees. She took three graceful steps before her ankle twisted and she stumbled on her heels.

  He caught her elbow and steadied her stance.

  Her luminous gaze trapped his like the full moon and he fought the urge to howl again. “Thanks.” She blushed. “The ground was uneven.”

  She felt light in his arms and her scent…

  She wiped something on his cheek with her thumb. “Is this grease?”

  “I helped someone with a flat tire on the way here.” He would have dragged a stalled bus across the street to make this date. He bent forward, leaning closer.

  Her eyes went wide as he drew kissing close. She pressed her fingers to his lips. “Easy, cowboy.”

  He turned his head, changing his goal and buried his face against her neck. “I just need to smell you.”

  He took a deep breath and shuddered. She smelled of sweet and gentle things with a hint of dog.

  The hair on the nape of his neck relaxed. There…all was better.

  She stroked his back. “Bad day?”

  “Not anymore.”

  Chapter Nine

  Ken's hot breath caressed her skin as he inhaled her scent. Betty couldn't ignore the facts anymore. Denial was no longer an option. He really thought they were soulmates—acted like they were soulmates.

  Raised in a pack, she knew the difference between married couples and soulmates. Her parents loved each other, would die for each other, but she’d never seen her dad stumble to her mother for the comfort of her scent. But soulmates…

  That was the Holy Grail for werewolves. Even their poetry and music revolved around the precious find.

  Ken straightened, looming over her. Broad shoulders stuffed into a finely tailored gray suit.

  She ran her hand along his torso as he pulled away. Not sure why, since she'd seen him naked, but the suit did things to her girly parts.

  His luminous amber eyes held a hunger that had nothing to do with food. If he continued to give her that look, they'd never reach their destination. She was going to have her some wolf shifter for dinner instead.

  “You look amazing.” He fingered one of her big curls. Points to Moonie for the hair style.

  “You don't look so bad yourself.” Most guys she dated didn't even own a sports jacket let alone an expensive suit. “So where are you taking me?” Was she underdressed?

  “Dinner at Remshaws.”

  “I've never heard of it.” But she suspected a hand-me-down dress would have to do.

  “It's a five-star restaurant on the shores of Lake Opal. You'll love it.”

  “Oh.” That's why she'd never heard of it. A five-star restaurant with all those forks and c
ourses.

  Sweat trickled down her spine as he escorted her to his car…Wow. A silver sports car. Most likely something with a fancy name she wouldn’t recognize because she was so poor she couldn’t even afford to look at pictures of that vehicle. It probably cost more than her entire life’s income. “What did you say you did for a living?”

  “Finance for the pack.” He closed her door after she sat in the passenger seat then stalked to the driver-side. Stuff a werewolf in a suit and he would look civilized, even human, until he moved.

  In her opinion, there were two types of shifters. Those who wanted to be accepted by humanity who toned down their animal nature and those who embraced what they were.

  Ken was of the second kind. Fluid grace that spoke of inhuman muscles, and the glance he cast over the street was purely predatory.

  He slipped behind the steering wheel and swept her away from all she considered safe. Even his driving skills spoke of controlled power.

  Betty blinked at the blur of streetlights, waiting for the car to turn into a pumpkin carriage. Her stomach rolled. At the stroke of midnight, would it all disappear? It just seemed too unreal.

  Twenty uncomfortable minutes later, they pulled into a park and parked at the edge of Lake Opal. She twisted around. “Where is the restaurant?”

  “Across the lake.” He hopped out and jogged to her door before she could exit. Offering her his hand, he helped her out. “We'll gondola across.”

  Moonlight glinted off the smooth surface of the water. “That will be romantic.”

  The whole point of her going on this date was to prove to Ken they weren’t meant for each other, but he had turned the table. Her heart was filled with doubt and desire now.

  What if he was right?

  He threaded their fingers together and stepped closer, pinning her against the car. His smile was pleasant even though he didn't bother hiding those prominent sharp canines. Hers weren't so big for someone with shifter blood running in her veins. She was considered dainty. Not as delicate as Trixie, but her friend was human.

  Betty had read about this lake when she’d first moved to New Port. It bordered the dragons’ land and brought lots of tourists to the area hoping to glimpse them fly overhead. By the shore, an elderly man waited on the dock, except she didn't see any gondolas—just paddle boats.

  Ken scanned the shore and asked the man, “Is this where we're supposed to rent gondolas?”

  “Yep.” The man rose slowly. She could almost hear his joints groan. “You have a reservation?”

  “Under Ken Birch.”

  “I have you listed, but you are fifteen minutes late. I let the boat go to another couple. If you can wait twenty minutes, I have a boat due back.”

  Ken glanced at his watch. “We have a reservation in twenty minutes. We don’t have the time. We should drive.”

  “The Remshaw? Quicker to go by boat.”

  Ken growled quietly. She was close enough to hear it, but the man didn't react.

  “I can rent you a paddle boat. That way you won't miss that reservation. I heard it's hard to get one at that place.”

  The glare Ken shot the paddle boats should have sunk the fleet, but then he glanced at his watch. “Fucking flat tire,” he muttered.

  “We'll take it.” Betty pulled Ken toward the dock. “Come on. It'll be fun. Pretend you're at summer camp.” She almost started to skip until the stilts she wore as shoes tried to snap her ankle in half again.

  Okay, walk like a supermodel.

  Kind of hard to make that work on soft grass.

  “I’ve never been to summer camp.” He continued to eye the boats and rubbed his hands together. “How do these things work?”

  The old man followed them and gave Ken instructions. As far as she recalled, they peddled and steered. Not that difficult.

  Ken asked about lifejackets and made sure hers was strapped per code. Then he asked if there was an emergency beacon, at which point the man told him to shout for help, the lake wasn’t that damn big. Then Ken proceeded to inspect all the paddle boats.

  She exchanged a look with the old man and shrugged.

  “Werewolf?” he asked.

  “Yep.”

  “Explains a lot.” He returned to his post.

  She rolled her eyes and shoved Ken into the one he was inspecting. “Come on, Captain Nemo. Let’s launch before the restaurant closes.”

  He maneuvered over the seats and pedals with his supernatural balance and landed in his seat. “I still haven't looked at those two.”

  “They are paddle boats, not U-boats.” She lifted one foot, balancing on one stilt—how had she let her friends talk her into wearing the hooker heels?—and changed her mind as she wobbled. Shifter grace was genetic and she had it. Somewhere. When she’d moved to New Port, she had tucked it in a back pocket and forgotten which one.

  Living on the edge of two societies made life hard. She’d spent eighteen years trying to meet pack expectations. Then for the last five, she’d done her best to pretend to be human. Living among them, making friends, ignoring her wolf instincts until they were just a whisper.

  Ken noticed her hesitation on the dock and leaned his tall body across the boat, wrapped his huge hands around her waist, and plucked her off her feet like she weighed nothing.

  Under this filmy dress hid a solid body. The only way she could control the pent-up wolf energy was to burn it by working out or she got down right cranky. Having dogs helped. Lifting a Great Dane like a puppy and doing squats did wonders for her glutes.

  Ken settled her inside the boat and didn't let go until she sat. The muscles along his jaw popped as if he clenched his teeth. “I can't believe we're doing this,” he finally muttered.

  She brushed her fingers along his square jaw. “Relax, it will be fun.” She peddled the boat away from the dock before he changed his mind. This wolf in a suit seemed ready to pounce when he should be stretching in play. This was a date after all.

  Twisting in his seat, he added his strength to the peddles and steered them across the narrow lake.

  Betty regarded the body of water. The soft moonlight danced over the flat surface. The lake was shaped like a long finger and they crossed the narrowest part to what must be the restaurant. The old man on the dock was right. Over water was faster than driving around the shore.

  “Did you know the dragons bathed in the deeper parts of this lake?”

  “No.” He chuckled.

  She pointed north. “I think I see the barrier the dragon built across the water.” She wanted a better view but the moon wasn’t bright enough, so she rose to her feet. The barrier looked like thorns from the paddle boat, which dipped with her standing.

  “Betty.” Ken snagged her hand. “Sit down before you fall in. I’m a terrible swimmer.”

  She returned to her seat. “You’d still jump in after me?” The idea touched her. Ken was a sweetheart. The guys Betty attracted wouldn’t have jumped in. A few might have reached out a hand to help her back in the boat. None of them hero material. Ken deserved better than poor, half-breed trash.

  “Of course I would.” He tossed her a scathing glare as if surprised by her question. “Just don’t try to fall in.”

  She chuckled. “Okay, big man.” She didn’t let his hand go this time. “Do you think the dragons might make an appearance tonight? I love watching them fly over the city. The black one always seemed so grouchy, breathing fire and roaring. I'm glad he found a partner. They look happy flying together and she's gorgeous with all those long feathers.” Nerves always loosened Betty’s tongue until it seemed like she’d lost control of her mouth. Like watching a crash, she couldn’t stop it even when she realized what was happening. “I never knew they could have feathers. Mind you, they're the only ones I've seen in real life. The ones on television are always scaled but you can't believe everything you see on TV. I watched this documentary about the Iceland clans—”

  “Would you like to meet the dragons?”

 
She stopped actively peddling, her legs just going through the motions. “How?” One didn’t just drive up to the castle and knock on the dragons’ door. Not unless they brought their own bottle of ketchup and expected to be a snack.

  “Angie is my friend.”

  “You know them?”

  “Sure.”

  “I-I don't know.” Ken knew dragons. “Are they nice?” What a silly thing to say. She clamped her mouth and bit the inside of her lips to keep any other silly questions inside.

  “Angie is nice. I wouldn't use that description for Eoin, but he won’t eat you if that's your concern.” He brought her hand to his lips for a kiss. “I won’t let him.”

  Such a shifter thing to say, but her wolfy heart did flip-flops.

  He slowed their pace and let them drift to a dock filled with all sorts of boats, from pleasure yachts to gondolas and canoes.

  “Hey, we're the only ones with a paddle boat.” She lifted her hand for a high five. “We’re arriving in style.”

  He eyed her.

  “Don't leave me hanging, Ken.”

  Rolling his eyes, he followed through with a hand slap. “This isn't how I pictured our arrival.”

  “Life never goes the way you expect it.”

  The restaurant had a uniformed attendant working the dock who tied off the paddle boat.

  Ken leaped the distance, then lifted her out like a child. He then proceeded to help her out of her life jacket, and set it aside for their trip back. He played with the gauzy sleeves of her dress. “Life always went according to plan until I met you.”

  Damn…

  He stood so close his body heat caressed her flesh, hinting at how good he'd feel in her bed. He knew how to punch a woman's buttons, she gave him that, but every male shifter thought he was Don Juan.

  She leaned in closer on tiptoe, their lips almost touching. “Life's a bitch. Let's go eat.”

  Shifter females had to grow thick skins or suffer broken hearts repeatedly. She had attended a pack sanctioned private high school in Riverbend. Hormones, fur, and claws should have been the high school’s motto. As a teen who couldn't shift, Betty’s skin could withstand a nuclear warhead now.