Dire Wolf Mates - Chapter 26: Chapter 26
You are reading Dire Wolf Mates, Chapter 26: Chapter 26. Read more chapters of Dire Wolf Mates.
Watching him walk away, fine ass outlined in his tight pants had set her Dire Wolf into immediate annoyed mode. Her beastie was pissed he’d gotten his beer from Weylin—but she was not mad at him. Oh no. Never that. Snarky, territorial female that she was, her she-Wolf was pissed off at her human side, at Sheila, for driving their mate away with her off-putting manners and sassy nature.
Oh well. This is what I wanted, anyway. About time that overgrown throw rug left me alone.
Mine.
Shut it.
Sheila heaved a sigh, frustrated with her inner arguments. She told herself over and over again that pussycat was not hers. And yet, every time she caught sight of his golden hair gleaming or heard his raucous laughter boom out from the other side of the room, her Wolf snapped to attention.
Her Pack mates were fond of him. They enjoyed his stories about working as a detective and often had a joke or two for the Lion when he came in. Ever since he’d helped out with the little bombing incident, he’d earned the respect of the DWMC, and maybe a little loyalty, too.
Fine. He was alright, she supposed. Leo had helped them identify the culprit behind that attack, and he saw to it Derrick was not charged. Afterwards, her cousin had announced that Leo Crowley’s money was no good at Serious Moonlight.
In other words, the big ol’ pussycat was not to pay for a single beer as long as he lived. Of course, that didn’t stop the by the book Lion Shifter from leaving a couple of bills on the counter every night.
What a hard ass!
He couldn’t even accept a beer without getting his tail in a bunch. Sheila’s stomach clenched. Her pulse raced, and she found it hard to focus on her current task, which involved tossing a few empties into the recycling bin. He was just so, so—what was the word she was looking for?
Gorgeous? Sexy? Ours?
No. No. NO.
How about infuriating, annoying, and ridiculous?
Bingo. Those would work. The man was all those things, mostly though, he was distracting. Leo the Lion and all his steady persistence were proving to be something more than just a nuisance. Everywhere she looked, he was there. Stopping her when she was speeding. Showing up at the bar at all hours. Insisting they were mates.
Grrrr.
She ignored her Wolf’s unhappy growl. Whatever the Fates had decided, Sheila was convinced they’d made a mistake. She was not the one for that uptight pussycat. Pushing the man out of her mind, she inched closer to the couple sitting at the end of the bar.
They’d had her attention from the moment the pretty, young woman came in about twenty minutes to join the man, who had been drinking beer on tap steadily for over an hour. She’d been happy, smiling, confident, until the moment she sat next to him.
Sheila had walked over to take her order, but the man waved her away. She left to take care of someone else. After all, it was none of her business. But Sheila kept one ear on their conversation—not picking up any words, just the overall tone. The woman was silent, but the man, whose face was longer than average with thick gray sideburns and matching salt and pepper streaked hair, was speaking in furious undertones to the no longer smiling female. She looked near to tears now. Her face was flushed with embarrassment, and that was not at all cool with Sheila.
“Fucking good for nothing, leech,” the man sneered at the woman. “You didn’t pick up my stuff, even after I told you I needed it.”
“But you know I don’t get paid till Friday. Besides, I don’t like that man, he scares me—”
The woman tried explaining, her soft voice catching at the end. But the man cut her off, slamming his empty glass down on the bar angrily. Sheila frowned hard as she eavesdropped.
“You’re just a selfish, lazy bitch,” he snarled.
“Al, you don’t m-mean th-that,” the woman stuttered.
“You don’t do a damn thing ‘cept sit on your fat ass while I work hard every day. Shit, at least you used to look good. Now look at you. Saggy tits, fat stomach, stretch marks all over you, fuck. I could do so much better than you,” he said, not even bothering to turn his head while he belched in her face.
“Al, please, people can hear you—” the woman begged.
Sheila growled low and deep. Her Wolf was getting mighty pissed off at Al. She handed another customer his change, listening, waiting, and wondering where the fuck Thor was. Usually, she could signal her Pack mate and bouncer when something was going to go down, that way they could nip it in the bud before it grew out of control.
“Shit, woman,” Al, the charmer, continued, and Sheila was really getting angry, now. “You’re lucky I invite you here at all. You don’t bring my shit. You look like a fat mess. And then, you come up in here, start acting like I’m supposed to buy you a drink and shit. Hell, no! You don’t earn shit. You don’t get shit! Fuckin’ waste of space.”
Mr. Boyfriend of the Year slapped his hand on the table and signaled Sheila. Oh, this motherfucker wanted another round, did he? She narrowed her eyes. The cheap fucker had ordered plenty of beers for himself ever since he’d first sat down. He’d paid, too, so she knew he had money.
Whatever it was he wanted her to get for him, Sheila had a feeling it was not savory. The woman looked down, unable to hide the tremor that ran through her at the man’s harsh words. Sheila hated bullies. She walked over with a glass of water for the lady.
“Hey, I need another,” he said, but Sheila ignored him, speaking to the woman only.
“Can I get you something, honey?” she asked gently.
The female looked up, shocked. She bit her lower lip, looking like she wanted to cry, and it was all Sheila could do to not let that jerk have it with both fists. She was too far away, and there were too many scents for her to make out if they were human or supes. Not that it mattered. Mistreating your significant other was a shitty thing to do whatever your species.
Al the asshole glared. He was clearly pissed Sheila was not serving him, but whatfuckingever. Dumbass should be grateful her attention was focused elsewhere.
“Oh, um, th-thank you,” the woman replied, and Sheila nodded her understanding.
Sometimes, kindness was a foreign language to people who’d been denied it too long. Sheila understood. She offered the stranger another smile before walking away, adding something before she turned to help other customers.
“If you need anything at all, just let me know. I’m Sheila.”
“Hell, Sheila, I need something. I need a fucking beer,” Al said, trying to get her attention, but Sheila ignored him.
“Rudeness will get you nowhere here, mister,” she said, and walked away, giving him a hard look that had Al squirming in his seat.
The man was a dickhead and a bully. His eyes glowed a little, so yes to being something other than human. He really ought to know better. Sheila let off a low growl, and Al the asshole gulped.
Poor woman. Stuck with a mean man. Sheila was not judging her. She was sure she had her reasons, but if she needed help inside this bar, Sheila’s Dire Wolf was there for her. She’d grown up with strong female role models. Her mother, her aunt, and the other women of her Pack who’d broken off, forming their own MC had taught her many things. Mostly, to have other women’s backs.
She was proud of those she-Wolves, even if her place was not among them. And Sheila took their lessons with her wherever she went. Female solidarity was alive and well in the Shifter world. Male dominance could go fuck itself. Sheila was a motherfuckin' badass. Anyone in her bar was hers to protect.
It was the Wolf in her that demanded. Her beast was a protector. Derrick knew it and loved that about her. It was why out of all the other Wolves, whether bigger or stronger, he had selected her as his mate’s Guard. Sure, they were not as formal as other Packs, but Sheila understood her role.
If and when shit went down—and it always did—her job was to get Lucy to safety. She could do that. To protect her own, no ask was too big or small. And right now, as she sat at the bar Sheila was tending, that woman was hers. Even if only temporarily.
If the lady had said yes to a drink, she would have bought her a damn beer herself. Maybe she still would. Sheila finished with her present customer and turned to head back in the bizarre couple’s direction, but someone beat her to the punch.
There he was. Mr. Law and Order to save the day. Damn interfering pussycat. She grumbled but could not stop her feet from heading over there. She was curious at how the straight as an arrow detective would handle Al, the dickless wonder.
Sheila continued to edge closer to the trio. Okay, maybe she was curious as to how the lawful Lion would handle the situation. True, the Pack might like the detective, but something told her they would be right pissed if Leo went around arresting their customers.
Shit.
She had better stick close to him then. Just in case she needed to intervene. No other reason.
Yeah. Right.
Her enormous, red-furred Dire Wolf snorted from inside her mind’s eye, and Sheila shook her head to clear the sound from her brain. She was getting a little tired of her irritating animal’s snide remarks.
Pfbbbbbtt.
Crap. Did Dire Wolves even know how to blow raspberries?
Apparently, was her only response.
FML.
Sheila growled and wiped the bar once again. It was an endless exercise, but a necessary evil. She refilled shot glasses, served a couple of cold longnecks to the good patrons of her Pack’s establishment. All the while, she kept tabs on what was happening between the three people at the end of the bar.
Leo, the pain in her ass Lion himself, was one persistent pussy. Al was showing signs of completely losing his shit, and his female companion was biting her lip, eyes huge as Leo struck up a conversation with her. The man just couldn’t take a hint, from her or anyone else, it would seem, but if she were being honest, Sheila would admit the big, furry butt face was growing on her.
Oh well. This is what I wanted, anyway. About time that overgrown throw rug left me alone.
Mine.
Shut it.
Sheila heaved a sigh, frustrated with her inner arguments. She told herself over and over again that pussycat was not hers. And yet, every time she caught sight of his golden hair gleaming or heard his raucous laughter boom out from the other side of the room, her Wolf snapped to attention.
Her Pack mates were fond of him. They enjoyed his stories about working as a detective and often had a joke or two for the Lion when he came in. Ever since he’d helped out with the little bombing incident, he’d earned the respect of the DWMC, and maybe a little loyalty, too.
Fine. He was alright, she supposed. Leo had helped them identify the culprit behind that attack, and he saw to it Derrick was not charged. Afterwards, her cousin had announced that Leo Crowley’s money was no good at Serious Moonlight.
In other words, the big ol’ pussycat was not to pay for a single beer as long as he lived. Of course, that didn’t stop the by the book Lion Shifter from leaving a couple of bills on the counter every night.
What a hard ass!
He couldn’t even accept a beer without getting his tail in a bunch. Sheila’s stomach clenched. Her pulse raced, and she found it hard to focus on her current task, which involved tossing a few empties into the recycling bin. He was just so, so—what was the word she was looking for?
Gorgeous? Sexy? Ours?
No. No. NO.
How about infuriating, annoying, and ridiculous?
Bingo. Those would work. The man was all those things, mostly though, he was distracting. Leo the Lion and all his steady persistence were proving to be something more than just a nuisance. Everywhere she looked, he was there. Stopping her when she was speeding. Showing up at the bar at all hours. Insisting they were mates.
Grrrr.
She ignored her Wolf’s unhappy growl. Whatever the Fates had decided, Sheila was convinced they’d made a mistake. She was not the one for that uptight pussycat. Pushing the man out of her mind, she inched closer to the couple sitting at the end of the bar.
They’d had her attention from the moment the pretty, young woman came in about twenty minutes to join the man, who had been drinking beer on tap steadily for over an hour. She’d been happy, smiling, confident, until the moment she sat next to him.
Sheila had walked over to take her order, but the man waved her away. She left to take care of someone else. After all, it was none of her business. But Sheila kept one ear on their conversation—not picking up any words, just the overall tone. The woman was silent, but the man, whose face was longer than average with thick gray sideburns and matching salt and pepper streaked hair, was speaking in furious undertones to the no longer smiling female. She looked near to tears now. Her face was flushed with embarrassment, and that was not at all cool with Sheila.
“Fucking good for nothing, leech,” the man sneered at the woman. “You didn’t pick up my stuff, even after I told you I needed it.”
“But you know I don’t get paid till Friday. Besides, I don’t like that man, he scares me—”
The woman tried explaining, her soft voice catching at the end. But the man cut her off, slamming his empty glass down on the bar angrily. Sheila frowned hard as she eavesdropped.
“You’re just a selfish, lazy bitch,” he snarled.
“Al, you don’t m-mean th-that,” the woman stuttered.
“You don’t do a damn thing ‘cept sit on your fat ass while I work hard every day. Shit, at least you used to look good. Now look at you. Saggy tits, fat stomach, stretch marks all over you, fuck. I could do so much better than you,” he said, not even bothering to turn his head while he belched in her face.
“Al, please, people can hear you—” the woman begged.
Sheila growled low and deep. Her Wolf was getting mighty pissed off at Al. She handed another customer his change, listening, waiting, and wondering where the fuck Thor was. Usually, she could signal her Pack mate and bouncer when something was going to go down, that way they could nip it in the bud before it grew out of control.
“Shit, woman,” Al, the charmer, continued, and Sheila was really getting angry, now. “You’re lucky I invite you here at all. You don’t bring my shit. You look like a fat mess. And then, you come up in here, start acting like I’m supposed to buy you a drink and shit. Hell, no! You don’t earn shit. You don’t get shit! Fuckin’ waste of space.”
Mr. Boyfriend of the Year slapped his hand on the table and signaled Sheila. Oh, this motherfucker wanted another round, did he? She narrowed her eyes. The cheap fucker had ordered plenty of beers for himself ever since he’d first sat down. He’d paid, too, so she knew he had money.
Whatever it was he wanted her to get for him, Sheila had a feeling it was not savory. The woman looked down, unable to hide the tremor that ran through her at the man’s harsh words. Sheila hated bullies. She walked over with a glass of water for the lady.
“Hey, I need another,” he said, but Sheila ignored him, speaking to the woman only.
“Can I get you something, honey?” she asked gently.
The female looked up, shocked. She bit her lower lip, looking like she wanted to cry, and it was all Sheila could do to not let that jerk have it with both fists. She was too far away, and there were too many scents for her to make out if they were human or supes. Not that it mattered. Mistreating your significant other was a shitty thing to do whatever your species.
Al the asshole glared. He was clearly pissed Sheila was not serving him, but whatfuckingever. Dumbass should be grateful her attention was focused elsewhere.
“Oh, um, th-thank you,” the woman replied, and Sheila nodded her understanding.
Sometimes, kindness was a foreign language to people who’d been denied it too long. Sheila understood. She offered the stranger another smile before walking away, adding something before she turned to help other customers.
“If you need anything at all, just let me know. I’m Sheila.”
“Hell, Sheila, I need something. I need a fucking beer,” Al said, trying to get her attention, but Sheila ignored him.
“Rudeness will get you nowhere here, mister,” she said, and walked away, giving him a hard look that had Al squirming in his seat.
The man was a dickhead and a bully. His eyes glowed a little, so yes to being something other than human. He really ought to know better. Sheila let off a low growl, and Al the asshole gulped.
Poor woman. Stuck with a mean man. Sheila was not judging her. She was sure she had her reasons, but if she needed help inside this bar, Sheila’s Dire Wolf was there for her. She’d grown up with strong female role models. Her mother, her aunt, and the other women of her Pack who’d broken off, forming their own MC had taught her many things. Mostly, to have other women’s backs.
She was proud of those she-Wolves, even if her place was not among them. And Sheila took their lessons with her wherever she went. Female solidarity was alive and well in the Shifter world. Male dominance could go fuck itself. Sheila was a motherfuckin' badass. Anyone in her bar was hers to protect.
It was the Wolf in her that demanded. Her beast was a protector. Derrick knew it and loved that about her. It was why out of all the other Wolves, whether bigger or stronger, he had selected her as his mate’s Guard. Sure, they were not as formal as other Packs, but Sheila understood her role.
If and when shit went down—and it always did—her job was to get Lucy to safety. She could do that. To protect her own, no ask was too big or small. And right now, as she sat at the bar Sheila was tending, that woman was hers. Even if only temporarily.
If the lady had said yes to a drink, she would have bought her a damn beer herself. Maybe she still would. Sheila finished with her present customer and turned to head back in the bizarre couple’s direction, but someone beat her to the punch.
There he was. Mr. Law and Order to save the day. Damn interfering pussycat. She grumbled but could not stop her feet from heading over there. She was curious at how the straight as an arrow detective would handle Al, the dickless wonder.
Sheila continued to edge closer to the trio. Okay, maybe she was curious as to how the lawful Lion would handle the situation. True, the Pack might like the detective, but something told her they would be right pissed if Leo went around arresting their customers.
Shit.
She had better stick close to him then. Just in case she needed to intervene. No other reason.
Yeah. Right.
Her enormous, red-furred Dire Wolf snorted from inside her mind’s eye, and Sheila shook her head to clear the sound from her brain. She was getting a little tired of her irritating animal’s snide remarks.
Pfbbbbbtt.
Crap. Did Dire Wolves even know how to blow raspberries?
Apparently, was her only response.
FML.
Sheila growled and wiped the bar once again. It was an endless exercise, but a necessary evil. She refilled shot glasses, served a couple of cold longnecks to the good patrons of her Pack’s establishment. All the while, she kept tabs on what was happening between the three people at the end of the bar.
Leo, the pain in her ass Lion himself, was one persistent pussy. Al was showing signs of completely losing his shit, and his female companion was biting her lip, eyes huge as Leo struck up a conversation with her. The man just couldn’t take a hint, from her or anyone else, it would seem, but if she were being honest, Sheila would admit the big, furry butt face was growing on her.
End of Dire Wolf Mates Chapter 26. Continue reading Chapter 27 or return to Dire Wolf Mates book page.