To Protect His Mate
Read To Protect His Mate Online
Authors: Serena Pettus
Tags: #Paranormal Erotic Romance, Shapeshifter
To Protect His Mate Copyright © 2013 Serena Pettus
Wolves and Coyotes, Lions and Tigers, Bears and Hares… PHASES
Also Available from Resplendence Publishing
www.resplendencepublishing.com
To Protect His Mate
A
Wolfe Brothers
Story
By Serena Pettus
Resplendence Publishing, LLC
http://www.resplendencepublishing.com
Copyright © 2013 Serena Pettus
Edited by Michele Paulin and CJ Slate
Cover Art by Kendra Egert
Published by Resplendence Publishing, LLC
2665 N Atlantic Avenue, #349
Daytona Beach, FL 32118
Electronic format ISBN: 978-1-60735-696-7
Warning: All rights reserved. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.
Electronic Release: September 2013
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and occurrences are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, places or occurrences, is purely coincidental.
This book is dedicated to my readers. Thank you all for loving the Wolfe Brothers as much as I do!
Chapter One
Stephanie Cruz relaxed in her whirlpool tub and let the pulsating jets gently work her sore muscles. Long hours in the clinic were wearing her down, but with the flu season in full swing, she really had no choice but to keep on working.
She’d moved to this tiny remote town ten weeks ago, fleeing bad memories and even worse men. The men she felt she could handle, given that she was a damn good shot with her little Ruger, but the memories had the power to cripple her.
With the anniversary of that horrible day looming before her, Stephanie decided to text Abraham Wolfe and let him know that she would not be available this Friday. The last thing she wanted was to become a blubbering mess in front of him.
Abraham, her gruff werewolf boyfriend of the last six weeks, would no doubt cringe at the sight of tears. She met him at the same time she met Erik and Sarah, in her clinic. When Stephanie and Sarah had landed themselves in a tight spot with some men from Sarah’s past, Abraham and his brothers had arrived, only to transform into massive wolves right before her eyes. Once over the initial shock, Stephanie had realized that these were still the same people she’d come to care for, and the fact that they turned furry just made them even more special.
Abraham was an ex-Navy SEAL and the very definition of strength in her book. He was simply massive, nearly six and a half feet tall and thickly muscled. He insisted on staying in shape since he still took occasional undercover assignments with the government. He was so large and had such a dark complexion that he was downright scary to run into if you didn’t know him, mostly because he kept an almost permanent scowl on his handsome face—it never failed to clear his path. Yet, it was that face which had captivated her.
Many hours spent outside had provided him with a rich brown tan that looked so natural against his dark hair. A little long, his blue-black mane was permanently tussled, leaving him looking like a rogue…a pure bad boy. His eyes, though, were lethal. The silvery-blue gaze was razor sharp and could see further into a person’s being than should be possible. In contrast to his dark hair and skin, they were positively mesmerizing.
Stephanie feared he would see straight through her tough façade to the fragile female she kept locked deep inside, a woman who was quickly scrambling to the surface with the anniversary of her daughter’s death approaching.
She traced her fingers over the long scar low on her belly that marked where her child had been taken from her bleeding and broken body. She’d never even had the chance to hold her daughter, to tell her how much she was already loved. Stephanie often found herself wondering if her daughter would have favored her or the father. Regardless, the child would have been beautiful.
She had never blamed the father for not sticking around. Besides, if a man stuck around for the wrong reasons, there would never truly be any happiness in the home, and Stephanie refused to allow her child to grow up feeling like a burden. She had the means to support herself and her daughter, so she’d told him to have a nice life and watched him walk right out of hers. He’d never even come to see how she’d fared in the accident, though she knew the nurses had called him.
In the year since the accident, she’d never felt the urge to be with another man until she’d met Abraham. His strength drew her, promising security and stability if she chose to accept the offer.
The offer, however, was what irritated and saddened her in equal parts. She was his soul-mate, his other half, and he wanted to take care of her and provide for her. All of which sounded wonderful, but she needed more. She needed the words.
Stephanie glanced at the watch sitting on the side of the tub, and realized her friend, Sarah, would be arriving soon. She quickly got out of the tub to begin getting ready. It was their weekly ritual. Every Wednesday night, they had a girls’ night, where they would cook, watch a movie and just talk. The talks were what she enjoyed the most because they allowed her to learn more about her new friends.
Sarah, also a werewolf, knew Stephanie had questions and concerns regarding Abraham and her. He seemed to know her moods and claimed he felt them whenever they were together. He’d explained that if she were a werewolf, she would be able to sense his emotions, as well.
Way to make a girl feel inadequate.
The man was a walking conundrum. Most people feared him, claiming he was harsh and uncompromising while she knew he could be gentle and caring. His scowl though, kept people at a distance, which was where he wanted them. He rarely smiled, but when he did, it truly was a sight to behold. He wasn’t a social person, by any means, and much preferred the privacy of either his home or hers whenever they got together.
That suited her just fine, especially since the phone calls had started. At first, she’d thought they were just some kids having fun then one day the number showed up…unblocked.
It was from the prison.
From the maximum security facility in which the doctor she’d previously worked under now resided. She’d witnessed him administering a lethal dose of insulin to an important key witness in a murder trial.
The poor man had already received a vicious beating as a warning and had remained unconscious since his arrival at the hospital. He’d posed no immediate threat. Someone obviously hadn’t thought he’d remain silent once he awoke.
After testifying against the physician, Stephanie had continued working for the hospital until the threats had begun. At first, they’d been just insults, but soon, they’d progressed to threats of physical harm. They’d insisted she retract her statements against the doctor, claiming that she would be left alone if she complied.
Stephanie had known better. She was a single, pregnant woman with no family, no roommates and a schedule that made making friends outside of work difficult. Due to the circumstances, she’d been forced once again to involve the police in the matter.
The police, unfortunately, were having a difficult time tracking down the ones harassing her. It seemed that they were using prepaid cellular phones and never the same one twice. Given the fact they were unable to do anything until the goons made a move, they suggested
she
move.
When the calls started up again only months after she’d arrived at her new home, she’d decided to move again. Coming to the small, secluded town of Hastings, Tennessee was by far her best decision yet. The clinic was large but kept regular hours of seven to six with an emergency number for after hours, if needed. The two physicians who owned the clinic were sweet and personable. That was a wonderful change from the snobby inner-city doctors with whom she’d worked. Generally, their bedside manners had been lacking.
The small town reminded her of Mayberry from
The Andy Griffith Show
. Everyone knew everyone, and they were polite and helpful. Just plain ol’ southern hospitality at its finest. Men held doors for women, cars stopped to allow you to cross the street, neighbors who saw you outside came to help you with yard work or simply to say “Hello”.
Stephanie was content with her life for the first time. Well, almost. She still needed a certain werewolf to say those three little words, and
then,
she would be content.
The doorbell ringing, followed immediately by, “Hurry up, the ice cream is freezing my damn hands!” alerted her to Sarah’s arrival.
Plastering on a smile she hoped looked believable, she opened the door and gaped. Sarah had two tubs of ice cream in one hand and four presents barely balanced in the other. The boxes were too high to get through the door, so Stephanie grabbed for a few but ended up with ice cream shoved into her hands instead.
“These are too heavy for you to take,” Sarah explained, moving past her and heading toward her Christmas tree. “There,” she beamed as she placed the presents around the mostly bare tree skirt, “now your tree doesn’t look so depressing.”
“I didn’t think it was that depressing before, and I still have some wrapping to do, so it would have gained a few more presents this weekend,” she muttered.
“Sure it would. You would likely end up back at the clinic and never get around to it, but we can do it tonight if you want. I’ll help you, and we can talk.” That last remark sounded like a setup, and Stephanie narrowed her eyes at Sarah, who immediately threw her hands up in mock surrender. “He’s making me do it.”
“Who’s making you do what?”
“Abraham. He’s worried about you. He insists you’re depressed and getting more so every day.” Sarah studied her with the patient eye of a predator waiting for a sign of weakness. “You can talk to me, you know? I won’t tell him anything if you don’t want me to.”
“I know. It’s just that this Friday is the anniversary,” she replied with her eyes down.
“Anniversary of what?”
“Of the accident. Of Ava’s death. It’s this Friday night, and I just want to be alone that night. You can tell him it’s nothing he’s done, and I’ll be fine. I’ve taken the weekend off, so I won’t be at the clinic after Friday afternoon.” The oven dinged, indicating the lasagna was done, and she turned to head to the kitchen. “Let’s not get caught in a depressing conversation tonight, or I might just eat both of these tubs of ice cream and make you watch.”
“Not likely, that butter pecan is mine!” Sarah shouted, following her friend into the next room. The phone rang, and she turned. “I’ll get it.”
“Remind whoever it is that this is girls’ night. They’ll have to just wait until tomorrow.” Stephanie was just placing the garlic bread in the oven when Sarah came back in with a dark expression on her face.
Uh, oh.
“You had better answer me straight, Stephanie. Who the fuck is calling you from a prison—without it being a collect call—and has the nerve to tell me ‘the boys will be seeing you soon’?” Sarah’s voice had dropped until a hint of a growl could be heard. That meant she was beyond pissed. “Have you been getting threats? And who the hell are they from?”
“Just calm down. I’m not sure how he’s calling directly from the prison, but it’s the doctor I testified against. I’ll change my number and keep it unlisted.” She stopped and frowned for a minute. “Actually, it’s already unlisted. I don’t get it. He shouldn’t be able to call me.”
“And you should have told us!” Sarah screeched. Man, did the girl have a set of lungs. “Are you so thick-headed that you can’t see that this could be a problem? He’s just said there will be guys coming to ‘see you’.” Sarah’s fingers clenched into white-knuckled fists after making air-quotes as she spoke.
“Calm down,” Stephanie repeated. “He’s just blowing smoke up my ass. I’ve had him tell me this before, and nothing ever happened.” Except for the car accident, but that had been just that, an accident. Right?
“When? When has he told you that before?” Uh oh, it was interrogation time.