Dire Wolf Mates - Chapter 51: Chapter 51

Prologue
The evening breeze was cool and sweet as Brock stood surveying the lot behind the busy commercial kitchen he now oversaw. He’d spent years cooking and mastering the finer of the culinary arts, but he rarely had a chance to practice his skill on the road.
Being part owner of the Dire Wolf MC’s new roadhouse meant he was also head chef. It was a dream come true. But as with most dreams, it had its drawbacks. Like his loud as fuck Pack mate, who was right about to intrude on what was a rare moment of silence before Brock finished his shift for the night.
“Yo, Brock,” Phoenix called as he walked around back.
Serious Moonlight was large for New Jersey roadhouse. One of a kind, really. The Dire Wolf MC had recently purchased, renovated, and now the restaurant/bar that sat on the outskirts of Blue Valley. Life was different now. They’d all parked their motorcycles for good and were trying their hand at making this their real home.
Each member of the Pack had something he or she handled and excelled at. Derreck was the Alpha and ran just about everything, including money stuffs, paperwork, and permits. Phoenix was their resident mechanic. Brock the head chef. But they all pitched in at the bar.
Between that and the occasional weekend road trip, Brock could safely say he was pretty fond of life right now. Or he would be if everyone could remember he was the Pack Beta, second to the Alpha, and deserving of some damn privacy.
“Brock? Where are you, man? Moody fucker,” Phoenix mumbled, and Brock bit back his snarl.
He might be a genius when it came to cooking, but he had zero tolerance for interruptions of any kind, especially when he was working. Phoenix’s caterwauling was a motherfuckin’ interruption.
“Dammit, Brock,” Phoenix continued to yell. “I appreciate that sometimes a man needs a bit of quiet, and I hated to intrude,” said with more than a little snark, “but I need your signature in this EWLP purchase order, for fuck’s sake!”
Brock frowned. He knew when Sheila had insisted, they start ordering meat from the local Lion Pride’s corporation, Eat Well Live Proud, that shit was going to get fucked up. Just because she was mated to one of those big, fussy-haired pussies didn’t mean Brock had to jump when they snapped.
That was not saying he was not glad for the change. Brock would be the first to admit that EWLP offered the best organically fed and environmentally conscious raised beef, pork, lamb, and fowl he’d ever tasted. He hardly minded singing their praises, even if it meant giving props to the feline run firm. Word was their fish was decent, too. He just hadn’t gotten around to ordering some.
Time really flew when you were busy making a home. Even now, he could hardly believe it was almost ten o’clock at night. Where had the day gone?
Brock scratched his head, heaved out a sigh. He was still ignoring his Pack mate, fucking Phoenix was totally cold, checking for Brock near the woods that bordered their land.
He wondered if time was going to keep moving this quickly since they’d parked their bikes for good. Life was different now. Derrick and Sheila had both found mates, but that kind of thing was not in his future.
“Brock? The fuck, man!” Phoenix yelled, still looking for him, and it was actually kind of embarrassing at this point.
Couldn’t the man scent him? Even without using that sense, couldn’t he see the enormous blond Dire Wolf Shifter that Brock was standing not four yards away from him? He just had to look around the empty crates stacked neatly against the back wall. He’d have to tell Derrick the Pack needed to spend some time re-training their senses.
Yep, shit was weird now. Brock hardly recognized them anymore, and that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. The Dire Wolf MC he grew up in simply didn’t exist. Each of his Pack mates had willingly turned their backs on their nomadic heritage when they bought this land and opened up shop.
Even the Alpha’s dam, who rode with her own MC of widowed and single she-Wolves, could hardly imagine them running a roadhouse bar and grill. She’d visited just last month to meet her son’s mate and to congratulate them on the coming birth of their first cub. Derrick had picked good when he found Lucy.
Brock admired the spunky little feline and did his damndest to stay on her good side. Hell, even if he pissed her off, he could always bribe her with the double chocolate caramel brownies she could not get enough of in her fertile state. Sometimes, it really paid to be a chef.
Business was good. Everyone was happy. Well, sort of. Even Phoenix seemed to appreciate having time to devote to exploring ways to renovate and improve the custom modifications he made to cars and motorcycles for Shifters and other supernaturals. Human machinery just couldn’t handle the wear and tear of lugging around a man who harbored an eight hundred pound monster inside of him. He’d even started selling them.
Good for Phoenix.
But honestly, Brock was content. Thanks to their Alpha’s business savvy and his mate’s grit, Sheila’s badass attitude and marketing skills, they had a good thing going here.
He ran a hand through his dark blond hair and shook it out before he re-tied the plain black headband he wore to keep it out of the way while he cooked. Normally, Brock hated shit in his hair, but when he was in the kitchen, safety and health precautions took precedence over personal style preferences.
His Dire Wolf pressed against his skin, the beast agitated. That was nothing new. He’d felt that way for months now. He rubbed his chest and closed his eyes, wrestling with his inner animal until the Wolf was calm once more.
Shit.
That was close. He would have to go for a run later. Brock was just so unfocused lately. Hardly his fault, he thought, narrowing his eyes. Ever since Sheila had come back home with her very own Lion Prince mate, the roadhouse had been crawling with the pesky felines.
Fucking furballs were everywhere. Of course, Brock didn’t usually get riled up because of one Shifter group or other. He wasn’t a speciesist. He just wanted to be alone sometimes. Was that too much to ask for?
As a rare and prehistoric species of Shifter, Dire Wolves were often more dominant and growly than most. Very few Shifters could match their inherent size and strength, which was why his kind typically roamed. Challenges were a Shifter’s way of life, but not theirs. Dire Wolves were basically pacifists, separating them from other, more instinct-run Shifters.
His objections to the feline furballs were really reserved for one spectacularly sassy feline in particular. And the reason behind that was so shameful, so twisted, so damned embarrassing, he could hardly admit it to himself.
But what else could Brock do? Ariella Golden haunted his every waking—and sleeping—hour. She was temptation personified. A woman custom built to suit his tastes by the gods themselves.
Fucking hell.
The woman had him waxing poetic over something that had everything to do with hormones and nothing at all to do with deities. It was just a fluke of nature. A Biological imperative created to ensure the propagation of the species. Nothing else. Nothing special.
Keep telling yourself that, bro.
So, what if her skin reminded him of freshly rendered cream? And if her hair was deep and rich like his favorite espresso beans? That didn’t mean shit. Who cared if her full lips and golden eyes made him wish for things he hadn’t dared long for since he was a pup?
She was nothing to him. Nothing at all.
Even as he thought it, he felt the lie burn his soul. His Dire Wolf pressed once more, the beast letting him feel his rage with a snarling snap of his jaws that made Brock’s own head ache like hell.
Fuck.
He might as well admit it, if only in his head.
Ariella Golden was his fated mate.