Wolf Meets His Fate (Salvation Pack: The Next Generation Book 4) Read online

  Yet, the pull to go back wasn’t strong enough to lure him away from West Virginia. Not yet, at any rate. He’d been here five months. Living alone had taken some getting used to. Even the cows and chickens that had lived on the farm had been moved to Salvation. His only company was a testy stray cat who’d walked up to him one day soon after his arrival. Half-starved and bold as brass, it had hissed, fur ruffling in warning, before setting in beside him. Her coat was pure black, her eyes a wary green.

  He’d fed her and taken her to the vet for a check-up and necessary shots. He named her Bast, after the Egyptian goddess. Any cat who’d willingly adopt a wolf had courage and deserved a name worthy of her.

  When the waitress looked his way with an inviting smile, he finished off his beer and pushed his chair back. It was time to leave.

  The fine hairs on the back of his neck rose. His wolf went on alert. Easing back into the shadows, he let his gaze roam over every dark corner, searching for whatever had triggered his defenses. All the tables had at least two or more people seated at them. The only singles were him and another person on the opposite side of the room. Like him, they’d tucked in the corner, away from the people and lights. A streak of purple flashed through a short crop of layered black hair. As if sensing someone watching, the woman raised her head.

  Their gazes met.

  ****

  What the hell am I doing here?

  Jesse Broussard hunched in the corner of the bar, nursing a beer. Her stomach grumbled, complaining about the lack of food, but money was scarce, so she was only eating once a day. The beer was an extravagance she couldn’t really afford.

  The idea of being a lone wolf sounded romantic in books and movies. In truth, it sucked. Sure, she’d grown up with only Lottie for company, but the older woman had been more than enough, her larger-than-life personality filling all roles—mother, father, mentor, and friend. Even now, it was difficult to believe she was gone. Old age had finally taken her.

  “I hung on longer than I intended.” Gnarled hands had patted hers. “For you.” Black eyes, deep and fierce, had stared into hers. “It’s time for you to go. He knows about you. He’ll come for you as soon as I’m gone.”

  He was her not-so-loving sire. The title of father was undeserved. He’d been nothing more than a sperm donor.

  Lottie had told her the tale of the night her mother had arrived, almost dead but determined, over and over until Jesse could recite it by heart. Her sire might be a dick, but her mère had been an angel and had loved her fiercely. She held on to that on the darkest of days.

  From as far back as she could remember, she’d known what she was—bastard, outcast, werewolf, adopted daughter of a witch. She’d ignored the first two and focused on the last two, working at honing all her survival skills.

  “Power comes from within,” Lottie had always told her. “It is fine to build muscles, to embrace the strength of your wolf, but real power comes from the heart and mind.”

  When the room blurred, she blinked back unshed tears. Crying changed nothing. That was something else Lottie had taught her.

  “Can I get you anything else?” The inquiry was polite, but the expression on the waitress’s face was anything but. Jesse was taking up a table and had been nursing her beer long enough for it to be warm. Worse, she’d only given the woman a few cents tip, unable to spare more.

  “No, I’m good.”

  Giving a sigh, the waitress flounced off. Short of tossing her out, there wasn’t much the woman could do.

  I should leave.

  God, she was tired. She rubbed the back of her neck, but the muscles wouldn’t unknot. There’d been no time to grieve for Lottie, no time to mourn. As her adopted mother had predicted, her sire and a group of his flunkies had arrived within hours of her death. It was as if they’d sensed the change in the swamp. The power the old woman had wielded radiated far and wide. When she took her last breath, it vanished.

  Like a magical force field that had protected her for two and a half decades, Jesse’s safety had disappeared, along with the only person on the face of the Earth who cared about her.

  Closing her eyes, she sighed. It seemed like forever ago rather than a few months…

  The fire crackled and leaped into the air in a macabre dance, the heat harsh against Jesse’s face. Her throat tightened, making it impossible to swallow. Tears rolled down her cheeks. Ignoring them, she whispered the final prayer, releasing Lottie’s soul to the universe. Incantation complete, she tossed a bag of herbs on top, letting the sweet smell envelop them both.

  The pyre consumed not only Lottie’s remains, but her walking stick and many of the items she’d held precious. Jesse wrapped one hand around the key adorning her neck. It was to a secure storage unit, filled with the things Lottie had ordered her to take away—a few at a time—in the dead of night for safekeeping.

  Those things belonged to her now, a legacy from her adopted mother.

  The howls ripped through the air. The bastards were coming. Did they think she’d sit there and wait, like a lamb for the slaughter?

  Taking a step back, she swiped the tears from her eyes. “Godspeed, Lottie.” Grabbing a piece of wood from the pyre as a torch, she strode to the simple dwelling that had been her home since the day she’d been born. Without Lottie, it was nothing more than a pile of wood.

  On a scream of rage, she tossed the torch through the open window. Let it burn. Let them all burn.

  Turning her back on the only life she’d known, she mounted the 1960 Harley, a gift from Lottie, who’d bought it new all those years ago and maintained it after she’d stopped riding a few years back. The saddlebags were jammed with her belongings, her duffel strapped to the back.

  Helmet on, she threw back her head and howled, both in warning and challenge to her sire. Raw power raced toward those who dared to trespass.

  That should give them something to think about.

  The engine roared to life, and she rode away from the past toward the unknown…

  Jesse’s eyes snapped open. A chill ran down her spine. Someone was watching her.

  Not again.

  She’d underestimated the venom her sire held for her. Whatever his motivation, he not only wanted her gone from Louisiana, he wanted her dead. She’d spent months running, with him and his flunkies practically breathing down her back. Unable to work for any length of time, her resources were running thin.

  Then the son of a bitch had gotten creative. He’d found a crazy group of humans online who billed themselves as modern-day witch hunters and sicced them on her trail.

  Raising her head slightly, she passed her gaze over the patrons having a night out. If she was human, she might have missed him. Like her, he was seated in a dark corner. He tilted his head slightly. The light caught his eyes, making them glow like a dog’s at night.

  Werewolf!

  And not one she recognized. Time to go.

  Looking away, as if she’d seen nothing out of the ordinary, she scanned the nearby people and found what she was looking for—two tables filled with men who’d had a few too many drinks and were primed for a fight.

  Too easy.

  Hiding a grin, she stood and headed for the side door, having scoped out all the exits earlier. As she passed the tables, she shoved out with both hands, knocking one man from each. Predictably, both men yelled, jumped up, and began slinging insults and accusations. Their friends joined them. The first punch was thrown as she shoved open the door and raced for her bike.

  Screams and curses followed as people stumbled outside. The sound of breaking glass made her cringe. She prayed the damage wasn’t too extensive and that the morons fighting had enough money to cover them. It wasn’t her intention to hurt others, only to stay alive.

  The engine roared to life and she pulled out, weaving around fleeing humans, when he stepped almost directly into her path. The outside security lights were like a spotlight. Tall with shaggy brown hair that fell to extremely broad shoulders, he h
ad eyes as blue as a summer sky. Rather than anger or malice, she saw … concern.

  “Wait!” His deep voice sank into her bones, commanding and compelling her to obey.

  Not likely. Revving the engine, she catapulted forward. He stood his ground, not giving an inch. There was an opening between two trucks, and she took it, saying a quick prayer when she squeezed through with an inch to spare on either side.

  She hit the edge of the pavement doing sixty. The bike went airborne before bouncing back down. Rather than let up, she pushed harder. The wind stung her eyes. Her goggles were in her coat pocket. Swearing, she blinked as she tore down the highway toward where she was camping.

  The night swallowed her, keeping her alive a little longer.

  Chapter Two

  “Fuck!” Aaron raced to his truck. It was crazy to be chasing a woman he didn’t know, especially one hell-bent on making an escape.

  He threw himself into the driver’s seat, cranked the ignition, and hit the gas. There was no sign of her. On a motorcycle, she could go places he couldn’t.

  Heart pumping, he couldn’t help but be impressed. The way she’d shoved each drunk, starting the brawl as a distraction, was brilliant. He admired her ingenuity. She’d sensed him watching. Whoever she was, she was on the run from someone. That much was obvious from the way she’d lit out of there.

  He’d only caught a glimpse of her tall, athletic form, but she moved with an animalistic grace that was unmistakable. The way the light had caught her eyes had been another clue. But it was her scent, which the wind had whipped toward him, that had stopped him dead in his tracks.

  His mystery woman was a werewolf. From her frantic flight, he’d say a desperate one. His intention had been to help, but all he’d done was send her racing into the night alone.

  He twisted his head from side to side, using his enhanced vision to search for side roads and paths, any sign of the woman or her motorcycle. After five miles, he pulled over to the shoulder of the road and banged his hand against the steering wheel, admitting defeat.

  He’d lost her.

  On an impulse, he opened the door, stood beside his truck, and listened. The sound of cars in the distance, a siren—likely the local law—and the nocturnal animals were all he heard.

  Throwing back his head, he howled, not in anger, but pain. The idea of a female being out there on her own didn’t sit well with him. Chauvinistic? Maybe, but a female werewolf without a pack to protect her would be fair game to more unscrupulous males who wouldn’t think twice about trying to force a mating.

  Maybe he was making too much of this. Maybe she was passing through on her way back to her pack and had run out of fear of him. Maybe his own sense of lack in his life was making him imagine things that weren’t real.

  It was a sobering thought. And one that had him sliding back into his truck and turning toward home. It didn’t stop him from keeping an eye out for her, but there was nothing but blacktop and the occasional car or truck until he pulled off the road and up the short dirt drive to the farmhouse he now called home.

  Cutting the engine, he sat there for several moments, the urge to go back and keep looking almost too much to ignore. “Bordering on stalking, dude.” He grabbed his keys and eased out of his truck. “She made her view plain when she ran.”

  Not ready to face the empty house, he sat on the top porch step. He loved the night. It was alive with life, if you knew where and how to look and listen.

  “Meow.” Bast slipped up beside him and butted her head against his arm until he lifted it enough for her to climb onto his lap. They’d come to an agreement early on. She demanded and he gave her whatever she wanted. So far, it was working well for both of them. Her warm body and loud purrs settled some of his restlessness.

  “Did you have a busy night? Catch any mice?” She tilted her head back as if to say he was crazy. Her days of catching her meals were over. Now she got premium cat food, often with a side of tuna or salmon. “Didn’t think so.”

  When he scratched under her chin, her purrs sounded more like an outboard engine. “I met a woman. Well, I didn’t really meet her. I saw her. She ran from me.” He dragged his fingers through his hair, ignoring the disgruntled yowl from the cat when he stopped rubbing her.

  Bast was good company, but sometimes a body needed more than a cat. Having someone who talked back would be good. He could call his brother. Didn’t matter the time, Nicholas would welcome the chance to catch up. He’d also worry. Aaron had picked up enough vibes lately to know his entire family was concerned.

  He hoped they didn’t all drive down here for an “intervention” to get him to come home.

  His wolf whined and began to pace inside him. “I hear you.” After giving Bast one final scratch, he lifted her onto the porch. “You might want to scoot inside.” He unlocked and opened the door, tossing his keys onto the nearby console table. The cat stalked to the door, looked over her shoulder, and then flicked her tail at him before slipping inside.

  While she tolerated his wolf, seeing the beast always made her hiss and cost him at least two cans of tuna before she forgave him. She went straight to the chair in front of the living room window and jumped onto the back, giving her a good view of the yard.

  Shaking his head at her antics, he removed his boots and socks and set them aside. His jeans and shirt he tossed over the back of the nearby sofa. “I’ll be late. Don’t wait up.” If she wanted to get out, she’d use the cat door he’d installed. The scent of his wolf kept other critters from using it and gave Bast her independence.

  She turned her head away and daintily licked her paw. Chuckling, he closed the door and strode toward the woods, enjoying the brush of the light wind against his bare skin. There were days he was more comfortable as a wolf than human. He’d be concerned, but his love for his family and pack would never allow him to totally embrace his animal form and forsake them.

  It sometimes happened, especially in older unmated wolves. They left the pack and went off to spend their last years roaming the land without responsibilities or burdens.

  He hadn’t allowed his wolf out enough since he’d taken up residence, wanting to get the lay of the land and make sure any curious souls had come and gone. When he had shifted, he’d kept it to short jaunts near the house. But enough months had passed that most of his neighbors had all but forgotten his existence. They were a fair distance away and minded their own business as much as he did. It was time to explore.

  The ground was warm against the bottoms of his feet. “Let’s go.” He leaped forward, flying through the air, shifting midflight. Large paws hit the ground running. If his senses had been acute before, now they were off the charts.

  You’re special.

  His father’s voice echoed inside him. Aaron had made his first shift younger than most, the transition easier, his vision and hearing keener, his sense of smell unmatched. Pound for pound, he was stronger than most wolves.

  You’re a born enforcer, a protector.

  That was part of his restlessness. Except for Bast—who was an independent soul—he was alone here. Not that his pack needed him. Hell, there were enough alpha males there to handle any trouble that might come their way. Even his brother didn’t need him.

  Jeez, now he was whining. Shoving his thoughts aside, he embraced the primal side of himself, letting his wolf take the lead. Huge strides ate up the miles as he ducked and weaved and jumped around all obstacles. Tongue hanging out, he lost himself in the sheer joy of running wild. Without conscious thought, he turned toward the direction of the bar.

  ****

  Jesse’s heart finally stopped racing after an hour had passed with no sign of the male from the bar. The adrenaline crash left her shaky and exhausted. The growling in her stomach grew so loud she finally gave in and grabbed a handful of trail mix from her pack.

  There was no doubt in her mind that he’d tried to follow her. She ignored the shiver that raced down her spine and ate another handful of the nuts and
dried fruit before reluctantly sealing the bag and storing it.

  With her back against a thick oak, she sat on her sleeping bag and listened to the soothing sounds of the forest. The insects and animals would alert her to any threat if her own senses missed them. Closing her eyes, she tried to catalog everything she remembered about him. It had all happened so fast, but he’d left an impression. And it wasn’t only his physical appearance.

  Yes, he was handsome in a primal way with his broad shoulders and muscular build, but there’d been something in his eyes—compassion, understanding—that made her want to run toward him instead of away. That made him dangerous.

  “You’re imagining things,” she muttered. Being alone in the world sucked. Being a wolf alone in the world was pure agony, the loneliness a living creature lurking inside that threatened to destroy her. But being a wolf hunted by other wolves and a group of crazy humans was a living nightmare.

  She banged the back of her head lightly against the tree trunk. “Stop wanting what you can’t have.” Lottie had preached that enough over the years. Wanting a father who loves you won’t change the reality. The words hadn’t been meant to be cruel, only a reminder.

  “I miss you, Lottie.” But like everything else, that was something she couldn’t change. All she could control was herself and her thoughts and actions. “So stop thinking about the tall, handsome wolf. He’s not for you.”

  Inside, her wolf whined and went silent. She worried about the creature, which had been getting quieter and quieter, almost depressed, for lack of a better word. Like her, the beast missed others of her kind.

  Lottie had been unique—part wolf, part witch—but her presence had given comfort and provided the link to that world.

  Skin itching, Jesse bounded to her feet, grabbed her sleeping bag, and rolled it, her movements fast and economical. “I should leave.” She tied the bag behind her duffel.

  All her gear was packed and ready. She unpacked only what she needed, immediately returning it to the bike when she was finished with it, ready to pull out and leave at a moment’s notice. Whenever she drove to a nearby town for an evening, she hid her belongings. If something happened while she was there, she could abandon the bike, grab her things, and run on foot.