Alpha Wolf: Black Mesa Wolves #2 (Werewolf Shifter Paranormal Romance) (2 page)

Now, they stared at one another across a short expanse of
soft sands, hard dirt patches, and stubby black rocks. The wind picked up a bit
and whipped the enticing scents of the mountains above them. The wolf longed to
run up there, wild in the mountains, chasing deer and leaves, tussling with the
soft gray she-wolf at his side. Both the wolf and the human longed for her to
take a step closer. Just one step to indicate she felt the same pull, the same
longing to run and play and be with him.

Sudden moves, however, had never brought Rafe what he
wanted. Patience and steadiness served him best. Even so, it was a struggle to
stay still before Sara's blue eyes as they pierced him, unwavering as she sized
him up. That her eyes remained the same color in either human or wolf form was
another unusual aspect about her that fascinated him. She didn't move, although
her ruffed back seemed to straighten a bit more. Beta she might be, but she
wasn't about to cow down to her patrol partner. Not even in a silly stalking
game. One in which Rafe honestly wasn't sure who had won.

Dammit,
the human whispered. The wolf longed to whine
in agreement. Years of being the responsible eldest, however, held his tongue
silent instead. Wait and see.

Sara suddenly stamped the ground with a paw. Nose in the
air, all her attention shifted away from Rafe. He immediately turned his head
in the same direction to better pull in whatever she had scented. His lip
curled as it came to him: rogue wolves.

“I wish we could go after them,” Sara said. The wolf's
tongue didn't speak the same way the human's tongue could, but nonverbal
communication was always clear. Tension bracketed her entire body.

“Alpha said no.” Rafe's reply was short and undeniable. He
shot a sidelong glance at Sara, and she acquiesced immediately. When it was no
longer a game, Sara's beta nature always came forth.

“Track, return, report. Let's go.”

Rafe took off at a trot, heading toward the scent of the
rogues. They seemed to mock his and Sara's presence, although he knew that was
simply his natural distrust of rogues. To live without a pack
was—incomprehensible. Particularly to an alpha-to-be such as Rafe. To step onto
his pack's territory and demand pack status and mates of their own was an
insult. However, Alpha had made his instructions clear: if any rogues were
encountered by Black Mesa wolves while out on patrol, they were to be delivered
to the pack without a single mar to their coats. If not caught, their last
known whereabouts were to be reported.

Sara grumbled under her breath, but she fell into step
beside him. Sensing her paws hitting the ground in cadence with his own as they
trotted through the boulders and sagebrush, Rafe felt another rush of pleasure.
This was how it felt to be with her. Natural and easy.

Now if only she would come to see that, as well.

Chapter
2

Sara paced a few nervous steps outside the doorway leading
to the conference room. Her sensitive nose, even in human form, told her all
the Pack Guardians were inside, ready for the scheduled meeting for the entire
pack. Rafe's scent stood out above them all. As usual.

Why couldn't she just stroll in like it didn't mean anything
to her he was in there? She'd been able to do that a few months ago. Even a few
weeks ago. But now, after they were placed on patrol together—especially after
that playful tussle they'd had yesterday—now, things felt different. She'd
almost managed to keep up her cool front yesterday, until that playful tumble.
After that, her wolf reminded her in no uncertain terms Rafe was very
attractive in all senses.

Just at the thought of him her wolf did a mental roll in her
head, belly up, half quivering with anticipation.
Yes,
her wolf
whispered.

It was making Sara half crazy. Proving herself more than
capable of pulling her weight with the Pack should be easy. Why did Rafe have
to mess it all up now? More to the point, why did her own hormones have to make
a shambles of it all?

An abrupt silence on the other side of the door sent a cold
wave of dread through her. Damn. The meeting had started and she still wasn't
inside. A quick glance and sniff up and down the hallway revealed no one else
arriving late. She'd have to slink in, not that it would matter. The Alpha
would know she was coming in after the designated time. Late, unreliable. Not
quite the image she'd recently been trying to express.

Her wolf sat up, a tinge of anxiety surrounding her at the
thought of a displeased Alpha. Sara took a deep breath to settle her nerves,
and looked around the hallway again. Despite her dismay at being late, she
still could appreciate the place. The Black Mesa Pack den lacked little in
terms of comfort, understated elegance, and stellar defense systems. Wide and high-ceilinged,
the hallway stretched for a good fifty feet. The gleaming oak floor framed a
long runner carpet, understated in design but very sumptuous underfoot. Huge
windows set at either end allowed plenty of natural daylight to flood the area,
the branches from the aspens and pines outside casting dancing shadows on the
ground. Old paintings, of wolves and people and mountains and even a European
castle, hung on the walls, made clearly visible by the appropriate light
fixtures that shone on them to highlight the colors and masterful strokes.
Contemporary Western influences, such as giant elk antler sheds and comfortable
leather couches and chairs, somehow managed to perfectly complement the look.
The Alpha's mate, Otsana Bardou, had designed the entire place and quietly
dictated its nuances over the years. The entire effect was elegant yet
comforting, secure yet soothing, and indicated deep pride at the status of the
Black Mesa Pack.

Sara took another fortifying breath. Alpha Channing Bardou
was a wolf of so many talents and so many years, his age alone cowed Sara,
never mind his accomplishments and status. He was a wolf to be reckoned with,
yet also a reasonable and fair one who had evolved with the times to lead his
pack into being the premier one in the entire western half of the country. Sara
always felt honored to be a member.

She hated that she was about to go into an important meeting
late. She also hated that, frankly, she was more apprehensive about seeing Rafe
than receiving the disapproval of her alpha. Butterflies zipped around her
stomach. She shook her head to dispel the image, huffing out the barest of
giggles at her wolf's confusion about insects flying around inside them.

At least she and Rafe'd had news to share with the Alpha
when they reported in yesterday. They hadn't found the rogues. In fact, after
they carefully explored the area, they realized they'd scented only a few of
them, and those two wolves had been loping away from them. Their scent headed
toward the farthest southwestern reaches of the pack territory—well past
Sleeping Ute Mountain—where the Pack Guardians knew there was no need to
follow. Past that was a virtual no-man's land, empty of wolves and most people.
The Alpha had taken their information with his usual simple nod of
acknowledgement. Nothing about his expression ever clued Sara in to his
thoughts on the rogues, or anything else, for that matter. As far as she was
concerned, that was just fine. She had enough to worry about herself without
wondering what knowledge the Alpha stored in his head.

Steeling herself, Sara pushed open the imposing carved doors
that led to the conference room and slipped inside. The Alpha's strong voice
carried easily throughout the entire room, which was saying something. The Black
Mesa Pack's spacious conference room had an ornate, impressive ceiling as high
as the outer hallway's. All the members of the entire pack, nearly forty of
them, lounged around the room, sprawled on the floor, draped over couches,
leaning against walls, curled up beside one another. Pack standards allowed
wolf behavior to hold more sway on the private, secluded pack premises than
anywhere else. Nothing about the tableau suggested any sort of disrespect for
the tall man who held their rapt attention.

The Alpha never paused his voice, but his eyes flicked to
Sara at the doorway. His sharp gaze instantly caused her to lower her own eyes.
Her wolf rolled onto her back in an utterly submissive pose, ready for total
domination by her mildly displeased alpha.

Sara's thoughts halted, although she kept slinking along the
back wall to find a place to semi-hide while listening. Mildly displeased?
Channing Bardou's look sent her a succinct message this behavior was not
appropriate. But strict censure was not evident from his pose. He should be
angrier she was late, that she appeared to not care enough for his pack summons
to be there on time, for—

An arm jostled against her and stopped her sidling. Sara
murmured the faintest apology under her breath. Then every sense in her body
recognized the wolf she'd run into. She looked up and felt an almost dizzy wave
envelop her. Rafe stood right beside her, leaning against the wall, arms easily
crossed over his broad chest while closely following his father's words. But
she could tell from the slight tug up on his mouth as well as one eyebrow he
was aware she'd just smacked into him. And that she was nervous.

Her wolf whined. In happy excitement.

Sara stood still. Her arm hairs prickled, her skin shivered
with pleasant goosebumps, and her breathing sped up. An abrupt memory of Rafe
leaning over her, on top of her, his deep blue eyes locked with hers as they
moved together, landed full force in her head. Every detail of his scent, the
feel of his naked skin against hers, the strength of his forearms locking
against her shoulders as he slowly, almost lazily, rocked with her, suffused
all her senses for a few seconds. His seemingly languorous movements masked a
deliberate precision that ensured she'd started to come just like that, which
she never did, never only from penetration, never only from the movement of a
man inside her.

Sara wrenched her thoughts back into the room.
Focus,
she snarled to herself. Being a top-notch guardian meant she had to
focus.
Dammit. She forced herself to listen to her alpha as he spoke.

“Therefore,” the Alpha said, “I've made a decision about the
rogues that will demand all our attention, dedication, and trust.”

The room became silent. Very, very silent. Rafe sensed every
wolf present tilting almost imperceptibly toward their alpha, ears strained for
every word. Rafe himself felt tensely wired, like a coiled spring waiting for
release. Of course, it wasn't only because he had a suspicion he wasn't going
to like what his father was about to say. The presence of one wolf—the only one
in the room who could affect him this way—was playing about the edges of his
driving desire to serve his pack the best he could.

Taking in a long, silent breath through his nose, he let
Sara's scent into every bit of himself he could. His wolf sat up, doubly
attentive now. Between alpha and female wolf, the world had narrowed into sharp
focus.

Focus on the Alpha,
Rafe thought. Just focus.

Channing Bardou, the finest wolf Rafe had ever met, despite
of the man being his father, sat with easy confidence on the edge of the
massive conference table, which was pushed up against the south wall. The Pack
never actually sat at the conference table unless they were meeting with other
pack representatives. It tended to be a space for placing drinks, books,
folders, cut flowers from the sprawling wild grounds. Right now, its solid
redwood surface provided an area for the Black Mesa Alpha to sit and allow a
deceptively mild gaze to drape over his pack.

“The rogues and I have come to an understanding,” the Alpha
said. His words resonated throughout the room, almost gaining a life of their
own in the utter stillness. “We have an agreement, and we will be working
together.”

Keening howls torpedoed through the quiet as sudden bedlam
unleashed itself. Rafe kept leaning against the wall, but his back tensed even
as his chest swelled with quicker breaths. He knew the Alpha had had something
like this in mind. His sire was never one to leap into the fray without a plan,
and not one to draw sides so distinctly there could never be space for later
compromise and mutual joining of forces to an extent. No, the rogues were never
to be hunted down and tossed off Black Mesa territory like the slinking cowards
they usually seemed to be. They were a part of the Alpha's plan all along,
whether or not they knew it.

Rafe himself still wasn't exactly certain what the plan was.
All he knew at the moment was the room was in some chaos, his alpha sat
unperturbed watching it all, and the lithe gray wolf beside him had also
started breathing faster and harder, her pheromones zinging straight toward him
as she tried to suss out the temper of the room and where she fit into it.

He felt such an overwhelming urge of protective instinct
sweep over him it brought his wolf immediately to the forefront. Claws
scrabbled at his mind. He knew his wolf stared out of his eyes, utterly alert
with a deadly precision.

“Sara,” he breathed. Though it was almost impossible to hear
his voice over the din of arguments, protest, and shock ringing throughout the
room, Sara instantly shifted her gaze to his. Inside, Rafe smiled. Good. She
was just as aware of him as he was of her. The knowledge marginally calmed his
wolf .

Her turquoise eyes riveted on him, she waited. Obedient to
his simple asking of her attention.

That thought turned him on so strongly he had to pause in
order to compose himself again. Sara, willing and compliant to his touch. Not
in a subservient, beta wolf manner, but in a sensuous, strictly female way. A
woman responding to a man.

Rafe held Sara's gaze for a long moment, still struggling to
contain the wash of pure craving that licked through him and made his skin
gently shiver. He kept his expression steady and didn't break the eye contact.
The noise thrashing about the room died away. For this instant, all he was
aware of, all he
wanted
to be aware of, was this one woman.