Dire Wolf Mates - Chapter 53: Chapter 53

Meanwhile…
“OH MY GAWD!”
Ariella Golden moaned loudly and slammed her hands on the uncovered wood table of her favorite new Blue Valley haunt. She was in the throes of culinary ecstasy.
“Yes. Yes. YES!” she cried out like Meg Ryan in that famous movie scene.
The salmon sashimi appetizer with slices of fresh avocado, wasabi ginger sauce, and little fried wontons on the side—necessary bits of deliciousness used to scoop up the plump pieces of fish—was possibly the best damn thing she had ever eaten.
If the place wasn’t already famous for the generous drink menu, featuring locally brewed IPAs and artisan liquors, kickass live music, and the over-the-top gorgeous owners, Serious Moonlight would be a hit for the food alone.
The establishment was still fairly new to town and, as far as the normals new, it was owned and operated by an ex-motorcycle club. She knew better, of course. Being a Shifter and all. The Dire Wolf Motorcycle Club might be retired, but the badass prehistoric Shifters still liked to ride. She’d even been on the back of one of their bike’s once—the memory replaying in her head like a favorite reel on social media.
The DWMC had only recently moved to Blue Valley, New Jersey, buying this property and settling down for the first time in their history. But that wasn’t the reason she dined there three times a week, minimum. The truth was, Ariella just couldn’t stay away.
Despite the constant disregard he’d shown her, her Lioness was stuck on the Pack Beta. Silly kitty insisted Brock Laurent, head chef and sexy as fuck Dire Wolf, was her fated mate.
Prrrr.
Oh, she had it bad. Feeding her lonely heart on the mere fact he was near to her whenever she ate at the rustically charming roadhouse had been her only recourse. Ever since that one fateful ride where she’d scented his masculine musk and fur, she’d known he was hers. But he didn’t feel the same, as evidenced by his hasty withdrawal and ghost act.
So, eating out became her go to. Maybe she could catch him off guard, wear him down or something. Then maybe his beast would choose her as surely as hers had chosen him—if only.
Hell, she would go every single day if she thought it might help. But then he might catch on to her plan. Not that she had a plan, but she was working up to one. Ariella didn’t want the man to assume the worst about her. Like the fact she was little better than a stalker.
Double sigh.
But what was she supposed to do? Ariella tried to forget about him by throwing herself into work, but every night when she lay alone in her bed, there he was, big and blond and larger than life, playing inside her brain like her own personal home movie.
Unfortunately, every attempt she’d made to discuss their possible fated mate status, or any relationship at all, had ended with a curt glare and him walking away. Sure, she hated to see him leave, but she loved watching him go. That boy filled out a pair of jeans better than she did.
It was getting old, though. The whole thing where she tried to talk, and he gave her dirty looks and ran away. Ariella hardly ever got a word out past his name. He was always growling and angry at her no matter what she did—and he never, ever listened!
Ugh.
Bad qualities for a mate. Really. And yet, he was everything she ever wanted. Ariella had even started doubting whether her Lioness was right about the whole fated mate thing. Maybe it was just a stupid crush. She had been guilty of that a time or two, but she never thought any of them were her one and only. Maybe it was just a stupid myth, like some Shifters believed.
Rrrrrrawr.
Her she-Cat roared as she always did whenever Ariella doubted herself. Her feisty feline was spunky and honest in ways her human side still feared. Ariella readily embraced that side of herself, knowing full well the big kitty was a big ol’ toughie on the outside and had a heart softer than a kitten’s fur on the inside.
“How is everything tonight?” a passing server asked.
Her dinner date—her baby brother George—nodded politely, his brown eyes wide as he stared at the pretty young waitress. He was even worse than Ariella when it came to dating. Poor guy. But he was just so much fun to razz!
“Tell the chef it would be even better if he used higher quality fish,” Ariella responded and smirked at the sudden paleness of her face.
No one wanted to confront Brock with a comment like that.
“She’s kidding. It was great,” George said, covering Ariella’s mouth and nodding at the poor girl.
“Oh, that’s funny. Ha ha,” the server mumbled, walking away.
“What is wrong with you? You wanna get her fired?” George scolded.
“I was only teasing, but George, you know EWLP has better stock,” she shrugged.
“I swear you are getting nuttier by the day, Ariella,” her brother replied, heaving a sigh as he went back to his smart phone.
As the King’s new personal assistant, George Golden had his hands full. What a stuffed shirt her brother was! Couldn’t even relax for an evening meal. He was alright, for a boy, but she wished one of her sisters had been free this evening. Toni was busy with some spreadsheets, and Annabeth was busy spreading beneath the sheets with her new mate.
Hmmm. Maybe she should have gone the matchmaker route too? Oh well. Too late now. She already knew who her fated mate was. He just wasn’t into her.
Sad prrrr.
“So, give me some Pride gossip, Georgie Porgie,” Ariella said, using the nickname he hated.
“You live in the Pride community, Ariella,” he grumbled.
“Yeah, but I’m not inside the Palace, like you. What’s going on with King Donovan and Mom, anyway?”
Donovan Crowley was King of the Blue Valley Pride. He’d been poisoned by his trusted valet for months before his son, the prince, Detective Leo Crowley, and his mate, Dire Wolf Shifter, Sheila Rand, discovered the matter and solved it promptly.
Ariella’s mother, Patricia, was the king’s late wife’s best friend. She’d stayed inside the Palace after those horrible events to nurse King Donovan back to health. But something had happened, and she’d hightailed it out of there like her tail was on fire. Always up for a party, something was off with their mom lately, and that rat George knew about it, she was sure. Patricia was behaving wilder than usual.
“I am not privy to the King’s private affairs, and even if I were, I would not discuss them with you,” George replied, ignoring her.
Ariella snarled and pinched him beneath the table. Satisfied she hurt him enough after George yelped like a cub, Ariella’s thoughts drifted back to Brock.
She was usually shy with men but being ignored had turned her into the aggressor. That was a new experience, for sure. Furthermore, it was not something she particularly liked.
Frowning, she thought about the past few months. Work was always a good outlet for amped up nerves, and she’d been killing it at EWLP. Ever since Brock Laurent had all but rejected her, she’d thrown herself into work.
Ariella had gone after every unclaimed account in the region to add to their client list. Her boss had even announced she had single-handedly made Eat Well Live Proud the biggest sustainably harvested seafood distributor in the area. It made sense since most of the other reps seemed to concentrate on their meat products to boost numbers. Fish was a tougher sell, but Ariella had grit and determination on her side.
She achieved her goals by securing entire bulk orders for many of the smaller, top quality, but lesser known high end food stores, restaurants, and catering businesses across Blue Valley, and the neighboring towns of Maccon City, Barvale, Northern, East Cove, Daniels’ Bay, Maverick Point, and the little known town of Castor’s Corner. Signing several small accounts at once was the same as landing any big hotel chain, and she was on the track to hunt down the regional manager of Stein Luxury Resorts—if she could only find out who he or she was!
Serious Moonlight was another hold out. Yes, they ordered most of their meat and had sampled fish from EWLP, but they’d yet to go exclusively with the feline firm. And that was what she was after—exclusivity.
Ariella still firmly believed small business was where she would get the most for her efforts. It was her unique one-on-one approach that had gotten her this far. Where most of the others in her department had four or five large clients, Ariella now had a hundred and seventy accounts up and down the East Coast, most in New Jersey.
She worked harder than anyone she knew, but that was okay. Ariella enjoyed the challenge and the claim that she now had the most accounts accrued in a single quarter. If she were lucky, she would also boast the most revenue earned out of all her Pride mates at the corporation once the quarter ended.
That particular contest was something of a big deal since the winner got an all-expense-paid-two-week-vacation to Moongate Island. The exclusive resorts located there had special suites catering to the supernatural crowd. Ariella had always wanted to go. In fact, their website had been bookmarked repeatedly. It was the one destination where she placed all her romantic fantasies.
The honeymoon of her dreams existed somewhere on that island. She’d been picturing it since she was a cub. Images of a big strong man who could handle her Lioness’ curves and less than gracious exuberance with ease and diplomacy. A man who wanted and loved her. She used to imagine herself mated to a big Lion male, but lately it was a Dire Wolf haunting her dreams.
A tall, blond, sexy Dire Wolf Shifter, with a wicked grin and a body she couldn’t wait to explore. A man who wanted her, appreciated her, and was willing to be equal partners in a mating that mattered. Someone who knew his way around the kitchen, who would hand feed her delicious island delicacies in between bouts of erotic lovemaking.
Yowza. Was it getting hot in here?
Ariella bit back her moan as naughty images of her and Brock sunbathing in the nude in a tropical paradise flashed through her brain. Okay, so it wasn’t a G-rated fantasy, but it was hers, and she would not apologize for it.
Sigh.
Ariella had always imagined what would happen the day she found her mate. They’d meet, they’d kiss, and they’d live happily ever after. Okay, there was some stuff in between—like super sticky smexy fun times she was glossing over because a virgin could only imagine so much—still, that was generally how it was supposed to happen.
Only, it hadn’t gone down like that. Not at all. Brock just didn’t have the same boom-you-are-mine reaction she did when they met. And now, her Lioness was stuck on a male who did not want her.
Sad sad prrrrrrr.
Not everyone believed in destiny, but Ari was a dreamer. She’d spent years waiting to lavish the never ending supply of love and affection she’d been saving up since forever on some lucky male. Her fated mate. Her one and only. And yep, that wasn’t all she’d been saving.
Ariella was still technically untouched—as in virginal. She’d been waiting for her special someone to come along to initiate her into the carnal arts. Oh, Ari enjoyed sexy fun times as much as the next girl, but most boys were so fragile they could hardly take getting to third base with her. Lionesses were strong as fuck. So here she was, almost thirty-years old, and she’d never done the deed with an actual male.
All the vibrators and sexy toys in the world couldn’t make up for how it would feel to be claimed by her one true mate. But the stuck-up, goody-two shoes, all about himself, Chef and Beta Wolf, Brock Laurent, didn’t want her.
Pfbbbbttttt.
Joking aside, it hurt like hell that he didn’t feel anything for her at all. Pain at the reminder shot through her, replacing the euphoric haze she’d been in after consuming every last bite of her appetizer.
Dang it.
She hated when that happened. Maybe Mom was right. Maybe all she needed was a one-way ticket to boinktown. Then she could forget the slap of Brock’s rejection. But how was that going to happen when he was the only man who made her hot and bothered?
Mate, her inner kitty growled.
Ari rolled her eyes at her inner Lioness. The traitor. All the big she-Cat wanted to do was rub herself all over the six-and-a-half foot Wolf whom she idiotically worshipped and couldn’t wait to sink her teeth into. It wasn’t like she hadn’t given him the opportunity to give her a good, long sniff or anything during that crazy bike ride. The man had taken off with her clinging to his back like a bat out of hell down the highway on his Harley Davidson FXSTB Night Train.
Yes, she had the name of his ride memorized after he’d nearly gone apeshit when she’d referred to it as merely a bike. Okay. She was exaggerating—something Ariella did often. Brock hadn’t exactly gone nuts, he’d just growled, and sniffed like she’d passed something decidedly unladylike on his precious Harley.
Whatevah.
He could just take his snobbish, standoffish behavior and stick it where the sun never shined! She couldn’t abide folks who thought they were better than everyone else and judging from his attitude, that was Brock Laurent to a T.
But what did he have that she didn’t besides the obvious? And wasn’t that what they were supposed to have to, er, get a move on with things?
“Hey, what happened to your highlights?” George interrupted her train of thought.
“My hair?” she asked, bunching up her dark curls.
“Yeah. I thought you were bleaching and straightening these days,” he muttered, taking a sip of his club soda.
Pussy.
“I only did that to try to blend in with Cousin Margaret for her wedding party. Those haughty beyotches always give me shit cause my hair is dark, but I decided to go back to my natural brown. Why, does it look bad?”
“No. It looks fine,” George replied noncommittally. “But are you sure you aren’t trying to tempt a certain Dire Wolf Shifter to glance your way? I heard Brock mention disliking fake things last time we were here,” he murmured, still looking at his phone.
Ariella growled deep in her throat. George was such a fucker. He always pretended not to notice shit and then he spilled things like that. Whatever the reason she’d stopped dying her hair, it didn’t matter. Ariella and Brock Laurent were at a stalemate.
“I’m over him,” Ariella told her brother with feigned nonchalance.
“Are you? I thought you said he was your fated mate?”
“Yeah. I mean, I might have been wrong about that.”
Like dead wrong. Her heart squeezed painfully in her chest, but that didn’t change facts. Ari had to stop wasting her life and stressing over the man.
“So, what now?”
“Well, mom always says a good backscratching could solve a lot. Maybe I need a date!”
“Ariella, what are you on about?”
“Of course, that’s just another euphemism for sex, George. I mean, I don’t want to be an old maid. Is that still a saying?”
“What?!”
“Sex, George. I’m talking about getting laid. I need D-I-C-K.”
“What the hell, Ari?! Oh my God! I do not want to have this conversation with my sister and especially not in public,” George hissed, looking around like someone overheard us.
“Come on, George. Don’t you have friends? Call some of them up to meet us here. Be my wingman!”
“You have lost your mind,” he muttered, shaking his head.
“Mom says I have fantastic assets, which she attributes to herself, of course, but she said I could have my pick of men if I just get out there. Come on, help a girl out,” she begged.
“I can’t believe this. Ariella Golden, you are ruining my dinner,” he grumbled.
Ari snorted with laughter. She was only half-kidding, but it was worth it just to see Georgie Porgie sweat a little. And for the record, she wasn’t conceited, but she was pretty, even if she had curves on her curves.
Along with plenty of T and A, she had long legs and flawless skin, sparkling amber-colored eyes that glowed gold with her Lioness, and an awesome sense of humor, if she did say so herself. She had plenty to offer the right male.
“Want dessert after we get our entrees?” George asked, frowning at the menu.
Her brother was always hungry, and he often ate like a damn pig, but he never gained an ounce. Lucky fucker. He straightened his tie as he glared at the dance floor. There was some kind of ruckus going on, and Ariella smirked. Prim and proper was her baby bro.
Total dork.
And yet she was the last virgin standing in their family. Sometimes, life was just utterly unfair.