Dire Wolf Mates - Chapter 95: Chapter 95

Disco music blasted from the speakers and Weylin grinned like a maniac as the bachelorette party kicked it up a notch.
There were women everywhere, in all stages of dress or undress. The air was saturated with female smells, like hair product and body lotion—nothing too strong since most were Shifters. Glitter and confetti rained down from above as balloons popped and noisemakers went off.
Hell yeah. The place was simply jam packed. Women were talking, shouting, singing, and shaking their groove things all over the place. As for Weylin, well, he was in his element.
What could he say? He simply loved women. Loved flirting, making them smile. Dating was his thing, but he kept his options open. He was a free bird, er, Wolf, anyway. Weylin simply loved variety, and he had a whole contact list full of possibles for every night of the week.
Fun lovin’.
That was the best description Weylin had ever heard of himself. Of course, there were those who were not all that entertained by his lifestyle choices. But whatever.
Weylin could not make everyone happy. He was a Dire Wolf Shifter, not Nutella.
Lord, he loved the chocolate hazelnut spread! Ate it right out of the jar with a spoon if there was nothing to spread it on. Though, he had to confess, it was even better when he had a warm, willing female who didn’t mind a little creative snacking.
Hmm. I am kinda hungry.
Speaking of which, it had been a few weeks since he’d gone out with a member of the opposite sex. And by going out, what he really meant, of course, was staying in. Yep, that was just what Weylin needed.
An evening with some fine, feisty woman who appreciated his brand of humor and was down for some no strings hanky panky. Even his Wolf perked up at the mention of some smexy fun times.
Grrrr.
The big, red-furred beast was easily double the size of the average Werewolf, though smaller than his Alpha, and Thor, that monster. He could more than hold his own, though, but lucky for him and everyone else, he was more lover than fighter.
Whine.
His Wolf whimpered in his mind’s eye, and that brought Weylin up short. He slammed a glass down a little harder than he meant to and shook his head. Fuck. His damn beastie was getting all mushy because of all the matings going on in the Pack lately, but that sort of thing was not for him.
He was into happy endings, not happy ever afters.
Snort. What? You think guys really mature after junior high? Ha! Not likely.
Weylin’s inner musings were cut short by a loud voice demanding attention. He grinned at his Pack mate, turning towards her expectantly.
“Blow jobs for everyone!” Sheila Rand, soon-to-be-Crowley, shouted.
As the only Dire Wolf female in their Pack, and the Alpha’s actual cousin, she was something like royalty to the males who’d grown up with her. The fact she was about to become actual royalty, marrying the one and only Lion prince of the Blue Valley Pride, was just kismet.
Damn, but she was pretty as a picture. Red hair flowing around her shoulders, eyes bright with happiness. Weylin could not be more thrilled for her if he tried. Hell, he even liked her mate. Leo was a down-to-earth kind of prince, even if he was a tad bit obsessed with his hair.
Felines and their manes. Grrr.
“Shake a tail feather, Weylin! My girls are thirsty!” she crowed, slamming her hands on top of the bar.
“I’m hurrying, girl.”
“Good. Make em extra strong, and for fuck’s sake, do not allow Patricia near any of the drinks,” she mock-whispered.
“I heard that!” yelled the sassy older Lioness.
“No worries, Sheila. I know better than that,” Weylin replied and lifted the shaker up to mix the drink.
“Like my party?” Sheila asked, looking around happily.
“I do, but can I ask a question?” Weylin inquired, considering his words carefully.
“Shoot,” Sheila said.
“What is with the disco? Did we fall into a hot tub time machine and zap back to the 70s again? Lord, it was hard enough the first time,” Weylin teased.
Dire Wolves aged slowly, and though his true age was nearer to seventy, he looked all of thirty to anyone else. Sheila was younger by far, and he was honestly curious about the whole direction of this bachelorette party.
“Ha! That was my future step-mama-in-law’s doing,” Sheila confided with a snort.
“I see,” Weylin replied, and shook his head.
The Goldens had arrived a little while ago, toting a couple of male exotic dancers wearing platform boots and bell bottoms, but not much else. Patricia, their matriarch, led them, as usual.
The older, golden-haired female was Sheila’s soon to be step-mother-in-law, having mated and married Leo’s dad, the King of the Blue Valley Pride, Donovan Crowley. She had a gaggle of daughters, like four if Weylin could count, but he was not promising anything, and one son named George.
The crew of outrageous Lionesses were regulars at Serious Moonlight. Three of them were mated now, one to a member of the Dire Wolf MC. Brock and Ariella had a rocky start, but the sweet Lioness made his friend happy, so he didn’t see a problem with it.
“Uh oh. Patricia is fondling the strippers again!” Sheila wailed.
A ruckus ensued, but before Weylin could do anything, Thor was on it. The male was a fucking giant, even among their kind. He had the stripper over his shoulder and was hauling his skinny ass outside before King Donovan could kill the bastard.
“Dammit Thor! Bring back my stripper!” Patricia wailed.
“You sure you want to marry into that family?” Weylin asked, only half-joking.
Sheila’s smile was so wide as she watched the Goldens and Crowleys tug-o-war over the Lion matriarch. She grabbed the shot he offered and downed it with a shrug.
“I am sure. Leo is all mine, buddy. The Fates picked a good one,” she said and winked.
Weylin just shook his head and continued mixing alcohol. Fated mates were like unicorns in his world. Shifters believed the Fates were the only ones responsible for delivering matches made in the heavens—literally.
Weylin never bought into all of that, but he had to admit. Something was happening among their Pack.
The Dire Wolves were dropping like flies, getting mated, and in some cases, married, too. And wasn’t that just fucking redundant? Being mated meant more to Shifters than any human piece of paper. But what did he know about it, anyway?
He was more than happy to remain footloose and fancy free. Able to sample the wares of many a female without shackling himself to any single one.
Yep. That was the life for him.
Lonely, you mean, his Wolf grumbled, and Weylin frowned.
The fuck? No. I do not mean lonely! I mean awesome.
“Come on, dude. Where are my blowjobs?” Sheila asked impatiently, clearly, she wanted to join in the fun.
“On it,” he said, and got to work double time.
Sheila started tapping her fingernails impatiently. She was giggling, sure, but that didn’t mean anything. Weylin knew a hunter on the prowl when he saw one, and his Pack mate was on the hunt for a good time.
No way in hell was he standing in the way of that. He looked at her hands while he shook up the shots she’d ordered, noting the dayglo pink paint. Weylin wondered if she did that on purpose to match their logo. The Serious Moonlight sign was the same shade of neon. Sheila’s design, of course.
“There you go, a dozen blow jobs for you and your ladies,” Weylin said, handing her a tray filled with the silly little cocktails served in the extra-long shot glasses and topped with a dollop of whipped cream.
“Oh, and that one is a virgin for Lucy,” he added with a wink, mentioning their Alpha female, who was currently pregnant and none too happy about being excluded from the more randy shenanigans.
“Perfect. Thanks, Wey,” Sheila said and snatched the tray.
The disco continued to pound through the speakers and after another hour, he was ready to strangle someone. Good thing the boys weren’t around, since the exotic dancers were on stage, gyrating their man bits in scandalous glitter thongs with banana hammocks in front.
Oh, it was just a bit of fun, but Weylin would hate to see what would happen if Derrick walked in and found his pregnant mate stuffing singles in some dude’s panties. Let’s face it, they were panties.
“Excuse me,” a timid voice said.
Tingles started up Weylin’s spine at the dulcet sounds of the stranger’s voice. His heart thudded and time seemed to slow.
Not a stranger, his Dire Wolf whispered.
Weylin shook his head. He’d been facing the other direction, but that would not matter to a Shifter like him. With his supernaturally enhanced auditory senses, he would have recognized the speaker if he knew them.
Nah. His Wolf must be crazy. No way did he know that voice. And yet, even though his human side didn’t recognize the shy, husky tone, his beast sure as fuck seemed to.
But how? There was just no way Weylin would have ever forgotten it. The voice was clearly female.
Sweet. Husky. Mine.
Wait. What?
Blood rushed through his veins, and thunder pounded in his ears. The whole bar went silent, and the only thing he heard was his own damned heartbeat. His Dire Wolf was clawing and snapping, snarling to break free of his human skin. Weylin grunted as he wrestled with the animal, determined to keep control.
Mine.
His Dire Wolf sat, ears perked in that metaphysical realm where the beast waited to be called. It had been a long time since he saw the animal so clearly inside his head without calling him. It was like the Wolf was in control and Weylin was frozen.
No. No fucking way.
He wiped a hand over his face, blocking out the disco blaring from the speakers as he reined in his inner animal. Shit. This was not the time nor the place for his Wolf to go apeshit over a woman.
“I said, excuse me,” the female stranger spoke again, closer this time.
Danger. Danger.
He was already sweating, and shaking like a leaf as Weylin turned slowly, prepping himself for whatever might greet him. Then he saw her, and his breath whooshed right out of his lungs.
She was leaning over the bar, trying to get his attention. Her clothes were normal, nothing special. Just a black shirt and a pair of jeans, but man oh man, the body they covered.
Holy. Fuck.
Petite and curvy, with hills and valleys, soft secrets and treasures, she was true perfection, all wrapped up in cotton and denim. His heart beat double time and the air seemed to sizzle with desire. Confidence and temptation. That’s what she was.
Weylin didn’t understand why women chose clothes that looked close to torture devices to him, but not this one. She was clearly dressed for comfort, and that alone made her more stylish than any of the females in skintight couture dresses at Serious Moonlight tonight.
She didn’t even have on makeup. Her smooth skin looked freshly scrubbed and when he sniffed, yep, he noted she’d used plain old-fashioned Ivory soap. A coating of sheer lip gloss covered her mouth, and he thought he scented strawberries, but that could’ve just been her natural scent.
Yum. Yum. YUM.
He was thunderstruck, and though Weylin knew a mere moment had passed, it could have been a millennium. Damn. She was beautiful. Her heart-shaped face was mere inches from his. Like a plump, ripe apple hanging on a low branch.
Tempting. Sweet. Seductive.
Clever eyes peeked up at him through short, thick lashes and she seemed unapologetic in demanding his attention. The woman was a walking, talking dare, and he was man enough to give in, no questions asked.
“Hello? Can you hear me?” she asked, nose scrunched up as she raised the volume of her voice to compete with the relentless disco beat pouring out of the speakers.
“I hear you, baby,” Weylin growled.
Unable to resist, he caught her face in his hands, stealing a kiss that was just too damn sweet for words. He had no idea who this beauty was, but she was definitely in the right place at the right time. His Wolf howled inside his mind’s eye, so loudly it damn near deafened him. Only one word rang clear throughout it all—mate.
Mate. Mate. MATE.