Dire Wolf Mates - Chapter 31: Chapter 31
You are reading Dire Wolf Mates, Chapter 31: Chapter 31. Read more chapters of Dire Wolf Mates.
Leo had no intention of being bullied into making any announcement or proclamation, and he sure as fuck was not pretending to choose a mate from a bunch of women who probably did not want to be there. Leo had a mate. His Lion wanted no other.
And he was not about to rush her, either. Despite what the little she-Wolf thought, Sheila Rand was his one and only—his absolute fated mate. His Lion had felt it the moment he laid eyes on the sexy, fire-kissed female. His beast paced angrily inside his mind’s eyes.
Right, he needed food. First, he’d eat. Then he could think through his next move. At least he could sate one of his appetites. The bar’s pink neon sign was lit, though it appeared much duller in the daylight. Still, it made him grin.
Brock might be gifted when it came to Leo’s favorite cut of Pacific caught chinook salmon, but Sheila was a certifiable marketing genius. She’d come up with the design and plans for the logo for the Dire Wolf Pack’s bar and roadhouse herself. Something her cousin and Alpha, Derrick, had told him. So many hidden talents. And he wanted to discover them all.
Grrrr.
Both his stomach and his Lion grumbled hungrily. The beast was salivating for a Lion’s portion of the perfectly cooked fish—the scents of hickory and applewood smoke wafted over to him on the breeze. He knew every flaky pink morsel would be seasoned to perfection, a veritable delight for his senses. He had it at least three times a week, and each time, it was outstanding.
But there was another, even more appetizing fragrance on the air. Like sweet cherry wine and habanero heat. Summer breezes, and winter fires. Sugary spice, and more tempting contradictions. It could only be her.
Mate.
Leo sucked in a breath, his Lion’s tongue tasting the air, savoring each hint of her. His sexy, reluctant little Wolf. That was a misnomer, of course. He’d glimpsed Sheila’s animal once, and the beast was enormous, magnificent, fucking perfect.
Dark, red fur, she stood as tall as a small horse. He had wanted to change with her so desperately, but before he could move, she’d appeared back in her skin. Naked and glorious, chin high as she leveled him with one of her patented, I dare you looks. Leo held her gaze that day. He didn’t know how, but he managed it. Used his hand to bring himself to oblivion that night to the memory of his ten second glance at her perfect, ripe breasts, and the red curls that shielded her sex from his hungry gaze.
Fuck, her image was burned into his brain, and Leo would do anything for another glimpse of her soft, pale skin. And there went his boner. Fucking hell. He sucked in a breath of air and could have cursed himself for catching her fragrance again. That sure as hell would not do a thing to relieve his hard on. No hope for him now. He followed the heady scent hanging in the air, marking the way like a lighted trail straight to its heavenly source.
Spicy sweetness.
That was Sheila. Only she could combine those two contradictory flavors and make them work. Like honey and cayenne, caramel and salt, whiskey, and chocolate—all that but more. Her flavor held all those notes and yet, there was something else. Something elusive.
She’d made him a shot one night, called it a wake-up call. Sassy little Wolf said he might as well try it since he sure as fuck needed one. Damn, she was amazing. The drink too. She’d made it with cherry moonshine with a concentrated dollop of iced espresso, in a habanero sugar rimmed glass with crushed cacao nibs floating on top. Fuckin’ hell, that innocent looking motherfucker had burned going down, but it had been worth it. Best damn shot he’d ever tasted. And it left him wanting more. More of the drink, and more of Sheila Rand.
She’d barely glanced his way as he walked into the bar, and yet she called to him. Tempted him, like a fish hooked with a single lure, her scent, the sway of her hips as she moved unhurriedly about her business, even the curl in red hair—all of it, all of her, pulled him forward before he even realized he was walking towards her.
She made his Lion chuff and his pulse race even from across the large room. She was here, and that was all that mattered. Just a few yards away. His mate. The only woman who’d ever made his blood buzz in anticipation. His muscles tensed at the ready. Even his heart thundered like a freight train inside his chest. Leo needed to be near her, to touch her.
Now. Now. Right now.
Sheila.
Her name whispered through his mind. She’d been giving him the cold shoulder for weeks, but he kept coming back. Waiting patiently for her to see reason. He’d figured that in time the pull of their matebond would grow too strong for her to resist. It was there now, a living, breathing thing, weak and sickly though from neglect, but they would fix that. The second she said yes.
So far though, his plan was an utter fucking failure. The she-Wolf had proven marvelously resilient. Not exactly great for his self-confidence. He believed his patience would be key. But that didn’t mean the ugly mug known as self-doubt didn’t pop up every now and again.
What if Sheila really was not interested? What if she found fault with him as a prospective mate? Maybe she didn’t like the way he looked. Or smelled. Or the fact he was a Cat.
No way. We are fucking awesome, his inner beast chuffed.
And true, the animal had a point. Lions were one of the fiercest predators in the land. And Leo was also honest, loyal, and handsome if he did say so himself. Obviously, he had no shortage of ego, but what could he say? Cats were King. And so was Leo.
Literally.
He’d gone too far last night, calling her a coward. Leo regretted his choice of words. Maybe his plan to wait her out was a little cowardly. And maybe he’d been projecting. Shit. He should apologize. Sheila was strong and dominant. She would respect strength, not weakness. Apologizing was not weak, it took a strong man to admit he was wrong.
He could show her strength, reveal himself as the Prince of the Blue Valley Pride, but he had a feeling that wouldn’t impress her much. It wasn’t a secret. Not exactly. He just wasn’t sure how she’d react. The fact she wasn’t too thrilled with him to begin with fucking chafed. He didn’t want to use his position to gain her respect or admiration.
His Lion chuffed and snarled. The beast was being pulled in two directions. One, towards his mate. The other towards his Pride. Leo had a duty to fix whatever was going on at the Pride, and to see his father. He was a problem solver at heart.
But his heart was the reason he was still here. He did not want to go without speaking to Sheila. He straightened his back, waited for the server to seat him in his usual spot. His eyes continued to hunt for Sheila. She’d walked to the back a few moments ago and was nowhere in sight.
“Your usual, Leo?” the waitress asked with a wide grin.
“Sure, Kelly, thanks.,” he replied respectfully.
The waitress was a Wolf from the Macconwood Pack. She’d been a little too friendly, but he was good at shutting that kind of thing down politely. With a shrug of her shoulders, she led the way to his table and left to grab him a cold iced tea.
Where are you, little Wolf?
The predator in him was riled. But that was to be expected when a male stalked his female. This was natural. It was the most primal chase of all, pursuing his mate. Leo stilled, looked up, and saw her coming up from the basement.
Beautiful.
Stunned, he merely watched Sheila, in her badass ripped jeans and tank top with all her curves on blatant display, wearing a pair of leather boots with big steel toes and two-inch heel in the back. They weren’t fuck me boots, but Leo was changing his mind on what he thought about feminine footwear and quick.
He’d never gone for this kind of woman before, but everything about Sheila Rand turned him on. She was a match to his kerosene. And every time she refused to acknowledge the building lust between them, he wanted to pull her against his body and see if she was really as immune as she claimed. Fuck, he wanted her.
He knew she wanted him too. Could smell her arousal, despite the words she spouted. His Lion was a beast, but Leo was not that kind of monster. He would never force or finagle his way into her tight as fuck jeans. Leo was going to have to wait for Sheila to ask him. He was not, by nature, patient. But he would wait. Even if it killed him.
Today, he’d put in his paperwork for some overdue vacation time from his job with the Blue Valley Police Department. He’d locked his service weapon and badge in his safe at home, cleaned out the fridge, and packed a few things in his duffel bag.
It felt good to be wearing a pair of jeans and a simple cotton t-shirt. Much different from his usual day-to-day clothing. Typically, he wore a suit and tie, tailored to fit his larger than average frame. Perhaps his new attire would win him some points with his reluctant mate.
His little Wolf was definitely a leather and denim fan. As a member of an MC, Sheila’s usual attire was enough to make his Lion go cross-eyed with lust. Followed directly by an intense jealousy and fierce possessive streak. The animal wanted her for himself only.
Possessive? Yep. But that was Shifters for you. Until he claimed her, his Lion was bound to be pretty fucking proprietorial. The wide, heavy bar top made a loud thud as she swung it open, carrying a case of something or other in her arms. He watched her carry her heavy load, knowing she needed no help. Yeah, she grunted and groaned, made like her arms were wobbly, but that was for the humans. To hide her supernatural strength from them.
Leo watched her, the patient hunter, and breathed in her hot spice and honey sweetness. He was going to miss this the next few days. Fuck, he was going to miss her. No, she never talked to him unless he initiated the conversation, but still. Being near her helped soothe his animal. If nothing else, it was going to be hard on his sanity, being away.
“Salmon plate, Leo?” Kelly asked and he nodded.
She was asking him something else but couldn’t hear her. All his attention was on his mate’s sweet, glorious heart-shaped ass as she rounded the bar and bent over to retrieve something from the floor. That ass was one of the many subjects of Leo’s dreams lately. Especially the way it filled out the tight ripped up denim. Holy fuck, two slits under her ass had the bottoms of her cheeks coming out. The smooth, pale skin making him wild.
His dick pounded, balls tightened, and fuck, when was the last time he wore those jeans? The denim was thick and stiff, and currently strangling his dick. Fucking hell. He looked around and quickly readjusted himself.
A few customers had noticed Sheila, too. All males. All staring at her assets appreciatively. Leo had to bite his tongue to hide his snarl. He was going to fucking burn those pants—as soon as he got them off her hot little body.
Holy fuck.
“Leo? Sides?” Kelly repeated, snapping her fingers in his face.
“The usual.”
“Okay—”
“Uh, Kelly? Can you ask Ms. Rand to join me for a second?” he asked.
“What? Sure,” she replied, looking at her notepad.
He was still watching Sheila, and almost swallowed his tongue. Red hair down and loose in a messy tangle that told him she’d been out riding. He loved her hair. It was sexy and wild, like her. The black cotton tank top she wore hugged her impossibly curvy frame, dipping low in front to reveal the most excellent cleavage he’d ever seen. And that meant others could see it, too. Other unmated males were right now staring at the precious treasure that was his mate’s sublime body.
Hell. No.
Fuck.
And he was not about to rush her, either. Despite what the little she-Wolf thought, Sheila Rand was his one and only—his absolute fated mate. His Lion had felt it the moment he laid eyes on the sexy, fire-kissed female. His beast paced angrily inside his mind’s eyes.
Right, he needed food. First, he’d eat. Then he could think through his next move. At least he could sate one of his appetites. The bar’s pink neon sign was lit, though it appeared much duller in the daylight. Still, it made him grin.
Brock might be gifted when it came to Leo’s favorite cut of Pacific caught chinook salmon, but Sheila was a certifiable marketing genius. She’d come up with the design and plans for the logo for the Dire Wolf Pack’s bar and roadhouse herself. Something her cousin and Alpha, Derrick, had told him. So many hidden talents. And he wanted to discover them all.
Grrrr.
Both his stomach and his Lion grumbled hungrily. The beast was salivating for a Lion’s portion of the perfectly cooked fish—the scents of hickory and applewood smoke wafted over to him on the breeze. He knew every flaky pink morsel would be seasoned to perfection, a veritable delight for his senses. He had it at least three times a week, and each time, it was outstanding.
But there was another, even more appetizing fragrance on the air. Like sweet cherry wine and habanero heat. Summer breezes, and winter fires. Sugary spice, and more tempting contradictions. It could only be her.
Mate.
Leo sucked in a breath, his Lion’s tongue tasting the air, savoring each hint of her. His sexy, reluctant little Wolf. That was a misnomer, of course. He’d glimpsed Sheila’s animal once, and the beast was enormous, magnificent, fucking perfect.
Dark, red fur, she stood as tall as a small horse. He had wanted to change with her so desperately, but before he could move, she’d appeared back in her skin. Naked and glorious, chin high as she leveled him with one of her patented, I dare you looks. Leo held her gaze that day. He didn’t know how, but he managed it. Used his hand to bring himself to oblivion that night to the memory of his ten second glance at her perfect, ripe breasts, and the red curls that shielded her sex from his hungry gaze.
Fuck, her image was burned into his brain, and Leo would do anything for another glimpse of her soft, pale skin. And there went his boner. Fucking hell. He sucked in a breath of air and could have cursed himself for catching her fragrance again. That sure as hell would not do a thing to relieve his hard on. No hope for him now. He followed the heady scent hanging in the air, marking the way like a lighted trail straight to its heavenly source.
Spicy sweetness.
That was Sheila. Only she could combine those two contradictory flavors and make them work. Like honey and cayenne, caramel and salt, whiskey, and chocolate—all that but more. Her flavor held all those notes and yet, there was something else. Something elusive.
She’d made him a shot one night, called it a wake-up call. Sassy little Wolf said he might as well try it since he sure as fuck needed one. Damn, she was amazing. The drink too. She’d made it with cherry moonshine with a concentrated dollop of iced espresso, in a habanero sugar rimmed glass with crushed cacao nibs floating on top. Fuckin’ hell, that innocent looking motherfucker had burned going down, but it had been worth it. Best damn shot he’d ever tasted. And it left him wanting more. More of the drink, and more of Sheila Rand.
She’d barely glanced his way as he walked into the bar, and yet she called to him. Tempted him, like a fish hooked with a single lure, her scent, the sway of her hips as she moved unhurriedly about her business, even the curl in red hair—all of it, all of her, pulled him forward before he even realized he was walking towards her.
She made his Lion chuff and his pulse race even from across the large room. She was here, and that was all that mattered. Just a few yards away. His mate. The only woman who’d ever made his blood buzz in anticipation. His muscles tensed at the ready. Even his heart thundered like a freight train inside his chest. Leo needed to be near her, to touch her.
Now. Now. Right now.
Sheila.
Her name whispered through his mind. She’d been giving him the cold shoulder for weeks, but he kept coming back. Waiting patiently for her to see reason. He’d figured that in time the pull of their matebond would grow too strong for her to resist. It was there now, a living, breathing thing, weak and sickly though from neglect, but they would fix that. The second she said yes.
So far though, his plan was an utter fucking failure. The she-Wolf had proven marvelously resilient. Not exactly great for his self-confidence. He believed his patience would be key. But that didn’t mean the ugly mug known as self-doubt didn’t pop up every now and again.
What if Sheila really was not interested? What if she found fault with him as a prospective mate? Maybe she didn’t like the way he looked. Or smelled. Or the fact he was a Cat.
No way. We are fucking awesome, his inner beast chuffed.
And true, the animal had a point. Lions were one of the fiercest predators in the land. And Leo was also honest, loyal, and handsome if he did say so himself. Obviously, he had no shortage of ego, but what could he say? Cats were King. And so was Leo.
Literally.
He’d gone too far last night, calling her a coward. Leo regretted his choice of words. Maybe his plan to wait her out was a little cowardly. And maybe he’d been projecting. Shit. He should apologize. Sheila was strong and dominant. She would respect strength, not weakness. Apologizing was not weak, it took a strong man to admit he was wrong.
He could show her strength, reveal himself as the Prince of the Blue Valley Pride, but he had a feeling that wouldn’t impress her much. It wasn’t a secret. Not exactly. He just wasn’t sure how she’d react. The fact she wasn’t too thrilled with him to begin with fucking chafed. He didn’t want to use his position to gain her respect or admiration.
His Lion chuffed and snarled. The beast was being pulled in two directions. One, towards his mate. The other towards his Pride. Leo had a duty to fix whatever was going on at the Pride, and to see his father. He was a problem solver at heart.
But his heart was the reason he was still here. He did not want to go without speaking to Sheila. He straightened his back, waited for the server to seat him in his usual spot. His eyes continued to hunt for Sheila. She’d walked to the back a few moments ago and was nowhere in sight.
“Your usual, Leo?” the waitress asked with a wide grin.
“Sure, Kelly, thanks.,” he replied respectfully.
The waitress was a Wolf from the Macconwood Pack. She’d been a little too friendly, but he was good at shutting that kind of thing down politely. With a shrug of her shoulders, she led the way to his table and left to grab him a cold iced tea.
Where are you, little Wolf?
The predator in him was riled. But that was to be expected when a male stalked his female. This was natural. It was the most primal chase of all, pursuing his mate. Leo stilled, looked up, and saw her coming up from the basement.
Beautiful.
Stunned, he merely watched Sheila, in her badass ripped jeans and tank top with all her curves on blatant display, wearing a pair of leather boots with big steel toes and two-inch heel in the back. They weren’t fuck me boots, but Leo was changing his mind on what he thought about feminine footwear and quick.
He’d never gone for this kind of woman before, but everything about Sheila Rand turned him on. She was a match to his kerosene. And every time she refused to acknowledge the building lust between them, he wanted to pull her against his body and see if she was really as immune as she claimed. Fuck, he wanted her.
He knew she wanted him too. Could smell her arousal, despite the words she spouted. His Lion was a beast, but Leo was not that kind of monster. He would never force or finagle his way into her tight as fuck jeans. Leo was going to have to wait for Sheila to ask him. He was not, by nature, patient. But he would wait. Even if it killed him.
Today, he’d put in his paperwork for some overdue vacation time from his job with the Blue Valley Police Department. He’d locked his service weapon and badge in his safe at home, cleaned out the fridge, and packed a few things in his duffel bag.
It felt good to be wearing a pair of jeans and a simple cotton t-shirt. Much different from his usual day-to-day clothing. Typically, he wore a suit and tie, tailored to fit his larger than average frame. Perhaps his new attire would win him some points with his reluctant mate.
His little Wolf was definitely a leather and denim fan. As a member of an MC, Sheila’s usual attire was enough to make his Lion go cross-eyed with lust. Followed directly by an intense jealousy and fierce possessive streak. The animal wanted her for himself only.
Possessive? Yep. But that was Shifters for you. Until he claimed her, his Lion was bound to be pretty fucking proprietorial. The wide, heavy bar top made a loud thud as she swung it open, carrying a case of something or other in her arms. He watched her carry her heavy load, knowing she needed no help. Yeah, she grunted and groaned, made like her arms were wobbly, but that was for the humans. To hide her supernatural strength from them.
Leo watched her, the patient hunter, and breathed in her hot spice and honey sweetness. He was going to miss this the next few days. Fuck, he was going to miss her. No, she never talked to him unless he initiated the conversation, but still. Being near her helped soothe his animal. If nothing else, it was going to be hard on his sanity, being away.
“Salmon plate, Leo?” Kelly asked and he nodded.
She was asking him something else but couldn’t hear her. All his attention was on his mate’s sweet, glorious heart-shaped ass as she rounded the bar and bent over to retrieve something from the floor. That ass was one of the many subjects of Leo’s dreams lately. Especially the way it filled out the tight ripped up denim. Holy fuck, two slits under her ass had the bottoms of her cheeks coming out. The smooth, pale skin making him wild.
His dick pounded, balls tightened, and fuck, when was the last time he wore those jeans? The denim was thick and stiff, and currently strangling his dick. Fucking hell. He looked around and quickly readjusted himself.
A few customers had noticed Sheila, too. All males. All staring at her assets appreciatively. Leo had to bite his tongue to hide his snarl. He was going to fucking burn those pants—as soon as he got them off her hot little body.
Holy fuck.
“Leo? Sides?” Kelly repeated, snapping her fingers in his face.
“The usual.”
“Okay—”
“Uh, Kelly? Can you ask Ms. Rand to join me for a second?” he asked.
“What? Sure,” she replied, looking at her notepad.
He was still watching Sheila, and almost swallowed his tongue. Red hair down and loose in a messy tangle that told him she’d been out riding. He loved her hair. It was sexy and wild, like her. The black cotton tank top she wore hugged her impossibly curvy frame, dipping low in front to reveal the most excellent cleavage he’d ever seen. And that meant others could see it, too. Other unmated males were right now staring at the precious treasure that was his mate’s sublime body.
Hell. No.
Fuck.
End of Dire Wolf Mates Chapter 31. Continue reading Chapter 32 or return to Dire Wolf Mates book page.