Dire Wolf Mates - Chapter 5: Chapter 5

“Fucking hell.”
Lucy bit her tongue as she hopped out of the smelly cab of the tow truck. The rain had finally stopped, but her hair was still wet in its messy bun, and her clothes were damp and clinging to her overheated skin.
Her she-Cat was itching to be set free, but Lucy had to get this settled first. Tony the Perv had finally gotten around to dropping her off at the old boarding house he’d mentioned, but only after his boss had quoted her an estimate for her car. Sixteen-hundred bucks to fix that pile of junk.
Mother humping butt licking poop chomping fart flakes. Rrrrrr.
It was highway robbery, dammit, but what was a girl to do? Lucy was no mechanic. She’d only bought the old car because it was all she could find after she’d scoured the used car lot for something affordable.
The faded yellow paint with big daisy stickers all over the bumper, as well as, covering the seats of faded beige interior, had sweetened the deal. She was a sucker for aesthetics. Daisy stickers were fun, and she’d needed fun at the time. It was cute in a retro sort of way.
Of course, she’d had no idea the darn thing was going to be impossible to fix without spending a fortune. The grizzly old mechanic over at Big Tom’s Tow and Go had given her a song about it, taking three weeks to get the special parts he had to order before it would be ready. Then it would be a waiting game of how long to take apart the engine and put it back together again.
There was no upside, as far as she could tell. But at least she was out of that tow truck. The cab had smelled like a week old tuna sub complete with onions, vinegar, and gods knew what else had been shoved under one of the seats and left to rot.
Gross, she thought to herself as she lifted her bag onto her shoulder. Ripped jeans and wet shirt clinging to her curves, Lucy grunted miserably. She should have changed into something dry after at Big Tom’s. But with her luck, those guys would have recorded her in the bathroom.
It was a sad day for humanity when that was the first thought a girl on her own had when stranded in a strange town. But she couldn’t afford to go apeshit on a couple of normals. The Shifter Council would have her ass. Screw that. Lucy could deal with wearing a wet shirt for a little while longer.
Sigh.
With all the rain, she would’ve thought the humidity would’ve lightened up, but nope. It was still humid despite the growing chill in the night air. Her shoulder length hair was piled on top of her head in a messy bun and her sneaker-clad feet squeaked a little once she hit the newly paved parking lot.
Nice. No puddles, she thought absently.
But where the hell was she? She turned in a full circle and took in the bright pink neon sign with the words Serious Moonlight Roadhouse & Bar. Underneath was a plastic banner that someone had tied to the pole with the words opening soon in bold red block letters.
Didn’t look like any boarding house she’d ever stayed in, but what did she know? There was a huge house in the next lot over. Maybe that was it.
“You lookin’ for somebody?” A deep voice asked, and Lucy whipped around to see a giant stranger approach from a crouched position behind the pole that held the bright pink sign.
“Fuck a duck, you scared me!”
“Uh, sorry?”
The stranger grunted, rubbing the back of his head, but his apology sounded more like a question to Lucy. It seemed comical that such a masculine person was standing there bathed in pink light, but there it was.
She guessed he’d been working on the electrical box, and her assumptions were confirmed when he bent down and shut and locked the metal door. He had short black hair, wide shoulders, and looked big as fuck. He was wiping his hands on a rag, trying to seem less intimidating she gathered, and appreciated the effort.
“Uh, yeah, I guess, I am looking for s-someone,” she replied, stuttering when a sharp breeze dragged his scent to her.
Uh oh.
The man was big, imposing, handsome in his own way, but what really concerned Lucy was the fact he smelled like Wolf. Only, the scent was different from Wolf Shifters she’d encountered before. There was something powerful, wild, and maybe a little untamed about him. Of course, that could have been his biker vest or his deep-set eyes that caused chills to run down her spine.
Shit.
“My name is Cole. Cole Mingan. You here about the job, lady?” he asked and immediately Lucy nodded.
She might not have been looking there for a job, but she did need one. From what she knew about Wolf Shifters in this part of the country, they all answered to Rafe Maccon and that Alpha was a no-nonsense kind of guy. Surely, this guy had enough sense not to attack a lone feline. Hell, he wasn’t even growling, and that was all the encouragement she needed.
Desperate times, she thought, recalling the sixteen hundred dollars she needed to accrue to fix her wheels.
“Right,” he growled. “Come on, this way.” Cole turned to walk through the empty lot to the front door of the roadhouse.
Lucy followed, mind wandering as a result of her mild panic at following a strange predatory Shifter into a dark bar. It was almost midnight, but Shifters tended to be night owls. She wondered if it was politically incorrect to call someone a night owl if they weren’t actually owls? Like, did Owl Shifters get pissed when they heard that remark?
“You alright?” Cole asked, his head cocked to the side as he waited for her to catch up.
Lucy straightened her shoulders. In her experience, it was best not to let her fear show, and she really did need a way to make some money. If they were hiring, she should at least try to get the job.
“Yep,” she replied and tried to smile, but it came out more of a grimace and Cole frowned at her.
His eyes strayed to her wild hair and wet clothes, and she remembered why she was there in the first place. Lucy needed room and board. She was dead on her feet, but she also needed a job. With any luck, she’d find both right here. But probably not if Cole here thought she was a total wack job for thinking about owls and political correctness in the Shifter world.
Best keep that bit to myself.
Her thoughts could get random sometimes, but that was simply her overactive imagination at work. She followed the giant to the door he held open and walked through it with her shoulders straight and head high.
While the exterior seemed plain and simple, the interior of the place was impeccably clean and edgy. She approved the industrial look, with the ceiling exposed and open barn doors separating sections. Wood gleamed and metal shone, and Lucy could smell the myriad of cleansers they’d used along with fresh paint, stain, polyurethane, and polish to spruce the place up.
Clearly, the guys who’d bought the place had gone through a lot of trouble fixing it up. Cole did not bother showing her around. He simply stomped down the corridor and expected her to follow. Her first whiff of him already told her why.
Dog—no matter how big or small—always thought they were better than cats. Of course, this amused Lucy. Silly canines. Everyone knew cats were better.
Meow.
Lucy followed him down the hallway to a closed door that had the word office painted in thick black letters. The scent of Wolf was stronger, and dominance heavier the closer she got. Whoever was behind that door was undoubtedly the leader of this small group.
“Hey yo, Derrick! Someone’s here about the job,” Cole yelled, then turned the knob at the grunted “send him in” that came from inside.
“Go on,” Cole said and walked away, leaving Lucy to face whoever was behind the large door.
A little nervous, and a lot desperate, she squared her shoulders and inhaled one deep breath. She wanted to get a better read on the room’s inhabitant. Wolf, yes, but what kind? There were different subspecies of Shifter she’d studied in her quest to keep herself safe from big predators.
Gray Wolves. Red Wolves. Arctic Wolves. Each one with its own quirks and temperament. Maybe they were not Wolves at all. There were also other canids like Coyotes, Foxes, and Jackals to consider as well.
Shit. She was psyching herself out now. Lucy was almost panicking. The place was just too full of cleaners and fresh paint for her to get anything more than something from the Canidae family. More than likely, she was dealing with a bunch of Gray Wolf Shifters. They were the most common and the most growly.
That would be just her luck. A bunch of butt sniffing fur balls who’d think they could boss her around because she was, and had, a pussy.
Sniff.
Her inner she-Cat huffed at her vulgar description, but hey, she wasn’t lying. Lucy was a hybrid she-Cat. A small, yet ferocious animal whose inner voice was as haughty as any high-class feline’s.
Hmph.
For fuck’s sake, she growled softly. Once again, she managed to piss off her beast.
Oh well. Suck it up, buttercup.
Ignoring her she-Cat’s attitude problem. It took a moment, but her little beastie got over her feigned insult, and crept forward silently inside her mind. Lucy needed her extra senses to solve the mystery of who and what she was dealing with here.
“I said come in,” the deep, gruff voice repeated impatiently.
This was definitely the man in charge. His brisk command was delivered with the practiced ease of someone used to being obeyed. Lucy took a breath and was immediately struck by a myriad of emotions, picking up on his sheer dominance, the scent of his fur, and a spicy male musk that made her inner feline freeze and take notice.
OMG. He brought me to the Alpha.
Lucy exhaled, fiddling with her hair as she battled her rising hysteria. She was mainly a solitary creature and pretty low on the totem pole of the Shifter hierarchy. She rarely got to see the head honcho of even a small Pack. Lucy pushed the door wide, curiosity burning inside of her.
Standing with his back—his broad, heavily muscled, and totally naked back—towards her, the room’s only inhabitant remained perfectly still. He was even bigger than Cole—maybe six and a half feet or more—at least a foot and a half taller than Lucy.
His hair was longer, brushing his wide shoulders in thick, dark waves. Physically, he was devastating, tall and built, biceps showcasing intricate tribal tattoos. He wore tight jeans and leather biker boots, and nothing else. The stranger practically oozed power and sex appeal. He was a total badass, and Lucy practically swooned, taking him in from the top of his dark head to his large, booted feet.
Holy hell. His arms were bigger than her thighs, and that was saying something. Both bore full sleeves of beautifully detailed tattoos showing a variety of scenes from full moon runs to a flock of birds rising over a stand of trees that ended with a pair of wings flapping high on his neck. She wondered what he would do if she walked on over and traced them with her fingertips, or tongue.
Eeek! Where did that thought even come from? Lucy knew better than that. Alphas did not dig submissive little nobodies like her. But no amount of self-deprecating thoughts could stop her from looking. There was no harm in that, was there?
It took only a moment, but she was reeling from the sheer masculine beauty of the man. She couldn’t make out the words inked across his skin, but she wanted too. Wanted to touch, to smell, to kiss. She had a thing for guys with sexy hair, and his was black as pitch, like motor oil, and just as glossy.
An image of those wide shoulders, and that inky dark head bent between her legs had her shivering in the quiet. Shit. She needed to get her mind out of the gutter. Bad enough she was even feeling this way at all, worse because he would know. Freaking Shifter sense of smell would pick up the tiniest change in her body chemistry, including the ones that corresponded with arousal.
Every single survival instinct she’d honed screamed at her to get out of there, to run far away, but she remained rooted to the spot. Like some magnetic force was drawing her to the big, sexy as hell man. Finally, he turned, and she realized he must’ve spoken.