Dire Wolf Mates - Chapter 12: Chapter 12

Derrick frowned hard at the sixth fucker who walked up to the back bar, eyeing Lucy like a hungry hyena coveting a lion’s kill across the wide expanse of wood before placing an order.
Motherfuckers.
Why the heck had he ever promised to let her take care of herself tonight? She had nothing to prove to him. He knew her she-Cat was fierce and bold. But she was his, dammit. He wanted—no, he needed—to protect her. Wanted to provide for her. To keep her safe and secure.
It was ingrained in his DNA, for fuck’s sake. He watched as she smiled at the soon to be dead asshole, waving a crisp fifty-dollar bill at her while ordering his drink. The dickface tipped it towards her, almost brushing the filthy bill across her ample cleavage, but she snatched it before it made contact, and turned her back on him while hastily stuffing the bill in the tip jar by the cash register.
Good mate. Strong as hell woman. Badass Shifter.
Derrick grinned as he watched her return with the man’s drink in hand, and Lucy’s brilliant white teeth flashed between her plump pink lips. Immediately, Derrick’s thoughts went south. He imagined that mouth wrapped around his cock, how hot and wet she would feel sucking on him. Fuck, he went cross-eyed at the image. He had to adjust his cock in its tight confines. Ordering himself to stop picturing all the things he was going to do to her incredibly fuckable body the second she said yes.
Please be soon.
The strap of her tank top fell off her shoulder as she bent to grab a beer from the cooler for another customer. What the hell was Sheila thinking with those outfits? Obviously, the stack of bills tossed inside the tip jar was what.
Grrrr.
When he’d first seen her in that tiny excuse for a uniform, he almost lost his fucking mind. He knew she was beautiful, had thought so from the second he’d laid eyes on her. She was so petite compared to him and curvy as fuck. Pure sex appeal packed into five-feet, six-inches of purple-eyed passion.
He’d never seen eyes like that on anyone, and Derrick had been around the block more than a few times. Lucy Corwyn was a fucking bombshell with her rounded ass and full breasts, tiny, indented waist, and long, smooth legs.
Her straight glossy hair was thick and dark only at the roots like fresh ground coffee beans, then lightening to gold and platinum at the ends. Her eyes fucking amazing and her mouth, hell, if he thought about that now he’d spend the rest of the night doubled over. Then there was her scent.
Holy. Fuck.
She smelled like heaven to Derrick, light and woody like that perfect moment in a quiet forest just before the sun broke out over the canopy. Sweeter than cherry pie, warmer than a shot of whiskey, his sweet, sassy mate smelled like home to Derrick, and for a Dire Wolf just learning to put down roots, that really meant something.
His beast wanted to roll around in her scent until it covered him. He wanted to stamp himself all over, make sure everyone knew she was taken. She was the perfect culmination of everything he’d ever fantasized about in a female. Strong, sassy, funny, tough as nails, with skin soft as satin, and eyes that floored him.
Her kisses started fires in his blood, and when he’d pressed his body to hers, Derrick was delighted to discover they were a perfect fit. Of course they were. He was dying to really find out, though. Could not wait until they were together, really together.
With anyone else, sex was a formality, a physical need, an urge. With her, it was so much more. Attraction, yes, but it was more than her perfect tits and round ass that called to him. It was her soul, her heart, and that quick witted mind he wanted.
Life was not always kind, and his sweet Lucy had been hurt before. Derrick was going to cherish her, covet her, tend to her every need. He was going to earn her trust and thank the gods every day for delivering her into his arms. She made him want to control his beast. Made him want to be a better man.
For her. Always her. Only her.
Every cell in his body was attuned to her already, and he hadn’t even claimed her yet. Licking his lips, he tasted her on the air and frowned as another fucker raised his hand to get her attention. The man’s eyes were too greedy, his leer too familiar.
Shit.
Derrick could not afford to blow their opening night by losing his temper. Even Shifters drew the line when it came to fighting in public places. He was blowing hot and cold, his mood changing from wanting to claim his heart-stopping mate, to wanting to murder every single asshole in the bar who even dared to breathe the same air as her.
Grrr.
Fucking fuckety fuck. That skimpy uniform left way too much of her on display. That was it. Derrick was going to kill his cousin for giving Lucy that damn thing. Fine—maybe not kill—but he was damn well going to eat every box of whatever fruity cereal his cousin was most likely hoarding in their kitchen. Little she-Wolf thought no one knew they were there because she always double-wrapped them in freezer bags and aluminum foil, but Derrick was a motherfucking Alpha. His sense of scent was superb.
Not only would he snag a bowl for himself, but Derrick was going to tell Cole where they were, too. The younger Wolf loved cereal. Another customer leaned over to whisper into Lucy’s ear, and Derrick almost went berserk. His eyes were glued to his mate’s perfect face, while every fucking dickhead in the place was staring at her body.
Fucking Sheila.
The she-Wolf definitely did this shit on purpose. He really needed to calm down. The animal was riding him hard, claws popping out every few seconds, and it was all he could do to hold on to his skin while standing there.
Focus on the bar, he told himself.
But his Wolf would not allow him to stray far from Lucy’s station. Doomed to failure, he tried looking around to see how the others were progressing. The animal was keen on protecting his territory and his people.
The crowd was good. The local Shifters had sent a fair amount of their kind to see them get started, and as promised, he gave a ten percent discount to all Shifters tonight. The Shifter Council had sent him the names of some local Shifter-run businesses, and they’d responded with generally welcoming replies. Some even promised to send some customers his way. Normally, he’d be looking forward to chatting with a few of their customers, but he was too distracted. The need to mark his mate was overshadowing reason, testing his control to the limit.
He could hardly fathom how she had kept him at bay for two whole days. He’d been worried when she claimed she did not want a mate at all. So fucking glad she’d changed her tune to prove you want me by trusting me. Not that that shit was any easier. As if trusting her was the problem—ha! It was the rest of these fuckers Derrick didn’t trust.
He turned his head and inhaled a good, deep breath, filtering the different scents to try to get a read on who, and what, were occupying his bar. He noted a few Bears from the nearby Barvale Clan, a few Macconwood Pack Wolves, including the men and women in the band he’d hired for the night, and a couple of Tigers from the Maverick Pride.
Sniff.
Mostly, the crowd was comprised of Wolf Shifters. Regular Gray Wolves, not Dire, but those existed in abundance in New Jersey, so that was to be expected. There were also the odd Fox, some Coyotes, a Stallion or two, and was that a Hedgehog? The local Vampire Clan was asked to give the Shifters their space, but Derrick had promised them a ladies’ drink free night for the following week.
As he took in the crowded room, pride filled him. They’d done a good job with renovations. Every inch of the place gleamed with polish and new paint. The industrial style roadhouse looked both modern and classic, with the newly refinished beams now on display after they’d ripped out the godawful popcorn painted ceilings. Derrick was quite fond of the huge wooden beams and the large iron screws, nuts, and bolts that were now visible.
Coupled with the old barn doors they’d found and repurposed to act as partitions between sections, the gleaming refinished oak floors, and the new paint job, the place looked incredible. The sturdy old bars had been on the verge of destruction in the dusty old relic of a roadhouse before they’d saved them from the mildew and rot that had started to infect them both.
Thor had taken a particular liking to the one in front and insisted they find a way to keep a lot of the original furnishings. Derrick had wondered at the time if it would be worth the huge amount of work, but he was glad he’d went with his Enforcer’s suggestion.
They just didn’t make bars like that anymore. The original craftsmanship was something to truly wonder at. Plus, they were large and built for use, which was exactly what a bunch of Shifters needed. No dainty glass-topped tables for Serious Moonlight. This was Shifter country, even if the normals had no idea. Built to withstand a bunch of rowdy Shifters out to let their hair, er, fur, down.
They’d all agreed that the atmosphere should invoke fun, promote social interaction, and give off a generally good vibe. Of course, they expected fights to occur now and then, but it would not be the focus of their establishment. This was their home now.
They installed standing tables only around the dance floor, where a raised stage, featuring the band, had been redone with expert lighting and sound equipment courtesy of their resident tech geek, Phoenix. You could sit and eat, but the dining area closed at ten. After that, there were a couple of dozen stools surrounding the main bar if you wanted to sit and have a drink. Another two dozen were at the back bar.
Where Lucy was stationed.
His mind flitted back to his sexy little unclaimed mate. Don’t go there yet, he warned himself, and took another wide sweep of the room. Every surface was either gleaming wood, metal, or had a fresh coat of matted cream or black paint. Plain, simple, and neat.
Of course, their logo was another story. Almost garish, truth be told. The bright neon pink sign Sheila had designed and ordered, without asking anyone’s opinions, had taken a huge chunk out of the Pack’s accounts, and was, of course, non-returnable. Brock and Weylin liked it just fine, thought it added some fun to the otherwise severe appearance out front.
Derrick supposed they’d never get a lot of women inside if the only thing greeting them was the two dozen gleaming Harleys they’d put on display outside. Thor, their acting bouncer, stood at the door, able to keep an eye on the bikes and the crowd easily. Should anything happen, Derrick had absolute faith that he’d notify the rest of them immediately.
His eyes continued sifting through the crowd. Lots of talking, smiles, and drinking, which was good. Drinking meant money, and that meant success. Derrick used a bit of his Alpha powers to locate his Pack mates and the Wolf inside him breathed easier, knowing his people had this.
He watched Sheila work for a little bit. His baby cousin was one hardheaded woman. She’d had a miniature neon Serious Moonlight sign made up for behind the main bar, and it was glowing in the otherwise dark atmosphere, washing everything in pink and making everything more appealing somehow. He smirked at her know how.
Combined with the t-shirts and tank tops carrying the logo that she’d insisted the bartenders and cooks wear, Sheila was becoming something of a marketing genius. They were even selling modified t-shirts to customers, and he saw at least three big Bear Shifters wearing them already.
The front bar was crowded with people, normals and Shifters alike, Every single one of them clamoring for drinks, food, or just some attention from his Pack. Sheila worked with a steady hand and a ready smile with Weylin at her side.
Derrick nodded at them, then his gaze traveled, landing on Thor’s tattooed, bald head, standing high above the rest. His bulk combined with his almost black eyes, bronzed skin, and close-cropped beard made for one scary as fuck bouncer. Perfect fit for a New Jersey roadhouse. His real title was Enforcer, and Derrick couldn’t have chosen a better man for the task either way.
Next, he found Phoenix and Cole on opposite ends of the place. The two were working the crowd, dressed in their best jeans and button downs. They’d insisted they would look more like managers without the pink logo t-shirts. Derrick had agreed, much to their undying happiness and Sheila’s annoyance. But they were doing a bang-up job, ushering folks with drinks to empty standing tables and helping other customers to empty spots on the dance floor. Cole was taking food orders back to Brock, his Beta, and head chef. The scent of barbecued wings, ribs, and burgers tinted the air with delicious, savory spices.
“Just enough of an aroma to tempt them to order.” Brock explained when installing the expensive and truly excellent ventilation system.
All his people were working together to make this a success, and Derrick was so fucking proud right now. The future looked good as hell from where he was standing. It was what they’d been doing, what they’d done best, for all those years on the road together.
He knew a few of them were unsure about this place, wary of settling down in Blue Valley, but Derrick felt it in his bones. This was it for them. This was home. And that feeling had only grown stronger the moment he’d met Lucy.
Two days had passed, but she was already fitting in with his Pack. She’d joined them for meals and engaged in playful banter with the gang. He’d been nervous about that, worried she might feel uncomfortable being a hybrid she-Cat amongst Wolves. He had yet to see her beastie, and he had to admit, he was dying to do just that.
His gaze flicked over to where she was working, tending bar, and he noticed her laughing at something a customer was saying. She looked good enough to eat with her purple eyes flashing and pink lips tilted up in a welcoming grin. Lucy tossed her head back as she laughed, and her thick, glossy waves made her look like an angel. Unfortunately, he also noticed her customers’ eyes flick to the large amount of cleavage on display and his Wolf tensed.
Grrrr.
Eyes narrowed, he walked over. There were more men than women, but that was usually the way with places like this. Roadhouses were notorious for fighting and carousing. Sure, he wanted their place to be known for other things. Like having the best, coldest beer on tap, the highest quality whiskey on hand, and the most delicious, freshest food cooked on site by a professional chef, with live music every night of the week.
However, if that smooth-talking fucker with a death wish didn’t stop flirting with his mate, Derrick was going to put Serious Moonlight on the map as the first roadhouse in New Jersey to host a vicious murder in view of an entire fucking barroom full of people within three hours of them opening the door.