Wolf Bite (13 page)

After her meal, she cleaned up the kitchen and got another steak out to defrost. She felt better than she had in days. Maybe her grief had warped her appetite and she’d simply needed real food. Promising herself she’d eat better, she curled up on the sofa and turned on the television. Determined to pamper herself, she channel surfed until she hit a movie she liked then snuggled down to watch.

A romantic comedy, it hit all the right nerves, until the heroine started upchucking every five seconds. How the hell did the woman not know she was pregnant? She showed all the classic symptoms—fatigue, nausea, cravings, and bad temper.

Alexis hit pause on the remote and shivered.
Fatigue?
Check.
Nausea?
Check.
Cravings?
Check.
Bad temper?
Check.

No way.
 

Impossible. They’d…never once used a condom.

Stomach lurching, Alexis leapt off the sofa and went for her purse. She had a calendar, a little to do list on paper she kept with a small pen. Pulling it out, she flipped the pages until she found a date noting her last period.

More than thirty days before.

She’d been regular as clockwork since hitting puberty. Delightfully normal, she could set her watch by her period. It appeared unfailingly every twenty-eight days.

No. No. No.
She and Mason had fucked like bunnies for days and a condom never occurred to her. He was a wolf. She was a human. She took birth control, she’d started it after moving out because she’d actually planned on having a life.

Rushing to her bathroom, she fumbled through the medicine cabinet till she found the wheel. Flipping it open, she didn’t have to count the pills. Not a single one was missing. Why should they be? She hadn’t had sex for years before Mason rescued her in that alley.

I can’t be pregnant…
Panic flooded her system. It had to be stress. And the flu. Or something. She could go back to the grocery store and get a test. That would answer her questions.
Except if I do, Margo will see.

It wouldn’t matter if she wasn’t pregnant, Margo would report it to Ryan and,
yeah, no
. Not a conversation she wanted to have. Her mind whirled with the possibilities—the impossibilities—of it all. Could life really be that cruel to her?

Sure, why not? I’m the dumb shit that didn’t make him wear a condom.
Life really couldn’t be cruel to the stupid. She’d made the bad choice. Agitated, she paced back and forth and finally went for her laptop. Could she order a pregnancy test online and have it mailed to her? It would arrive in a normal package, no way for anyone to see or know.

It took five minutes to find one and she ordered it, paying the extra few dollars to have it ship overnight. Unsettled, she sat back and stared at the paused scene on her television. Suddenly, she didn’t want to watch the movie anymore.

I’m not pregnant
, she chanted mentally. After about the hundredth time, her tensed muscles unlocked and she channel surfed until she found some random action film. The day stretched out in front of her and she could practically feel every second ticking by. She ate. She watched television. She paced. She didn’t sleep a wink.

The next day, the test arrived by parcel delivery at eight in the morning. Shaking and half-terrified, she barely got her body to relax long enough to pee on the stick. The three minutes it took to wait on the results were an eternity. She kept up her chant. When two pink lines appeared, her world shuddered.

I’m pregnant.
 

Mason lasted less than twenty-four hours before he drove aimlessly through downtown—hoping to catch her scent and lay eyes on her long enough to make sure she was okay. He received neither.

It was Sunday. She didn’t work on the weekends. It didn’t prevent him from checking a few dozen times. Back at his mobile home, he began packing. He lived light, but he stayed in Dallas the longest of anywhere since leaving Willow Bend. Most of his belongings could be dropped at a charity or the dumpster. Precious few of his family possessions had come with him.

A couple of family snapshots—and a battered photo album with pictures of his friends. He flipped open the front of said album and stared at his parents. The limited time he’d been allotted to leave Willow Bend coupled with his age and his emotional devastation at the loss of both his parents had taken their toll on him.

He’d been furious. Furious at Toman for having killed his father. Furious at his father for having challenged Toman in the first place. Furious at Ryan ‘fucking’ Huston for waiting while Mason packed, then ‘escorting’ him to the bus station, all the while making arrangements to transfer his parents’ money into his name.

Yeah, so maybe Ryan hadn’t been so bad. If not for his thinking ahead, Mason would have left with the clothes on his back and not a dime to his name. Still, it didn’t change how angry he’d been at all of them, or how leaving Willow Bend unable to even honor his parents in a memory ceremony, had carved away a piece of him

That pain didn’t compare with the hollowed out feeling in his chest over leaving Lexi. Closing the photo album, he dropped it into a box and continued. By dawn, he’d packed most of the mobile home and he carried his first haul to a Salvation Army drop off center—near downtown. It didn’t matter that it took him an hour out of his way.

He pulled onto the side street where he didn’t have to pay to park just in time. Lexi was leaving her building. Mason trailed her and stayed downwind across the street. Her office was only a few blocks away and she had a car, but she didn’t use it. No other human in Dallas walked more than fifteen feet if they didn’t have to. He’d seen guys jump in their trucks to drive across the road.

But Lexi? Nope, she strolled down the street as if she owned it. When she disappeared into her office, he stood there and stared at the building. What floor did she work on? She hadn’t been that enthusiastic about her job. She’d even remarked she could not show up and still get paid. Did she spend her days bored? Would she leave to go to lunch?

He checked his watch. It was just after eight in the morning. If he hung out long enough to see her go to lunch, he’d have to kill three hours. If he went to meet with his foreman and let him know he was leaving the area, he could make another dump run from the mobile home and be back in time to see that she made it home safely.

Satisfied with that plan, he headed home again. The next forty-eight hours passed in a blur. He arrived in Dallas early, so he could to follow her to work, then trail her home. The second night, she went right through the same alley she’d been mugged in before. Furious, he’d nearly closed the distance between them, but she made it home unmolested.

Wednesday she didn’t go to work.

Thursday, either.

She didn’t even leave her apartment. Agitation scraped over his nerves. He’d caught Margo’s scent more than once and kept his distance. The Enforcer was watching for him, he knew it.
Fuck
. He needed to pack his shit and go, but he wanted to make sure Lexi was all right. He had to know.

When he saw her leave in her car and Margo followed, he’d ghosted behind both and waited until first Lexi, then Margo, went into the grocery store. He’d lived in the city long enough to know how to hide his scent, but Margo practically stalked Lexi and Lexi didn’t seem aware of it.

His Lexi also didn’t look well. Humans got colds and flus. She’d had one when she was very young and it had driven him crazy while she’d been miserable. He hated—
hated
—to think she was going through it again. In the store, he tracked both women. Margo hadn’t even bothered to hide her surveillance, staying within range of Lexi at all times.

At yogurt, however, Lexi challenged her and Mason’s heart stopped. Fierce and wild, she glared at the Enforcer and actually pushed her back with the grocery cart. One step away from attacking the Enforcer and signing his own death warrant, Margo shocked him further by backing down. Lexi stormed away from her, but Margo had blinked first.

He followed both back to the apartment, stymied when Margo set up shop on the corner across the street, her gaze fixed on the building. Unable to stay, he returned to his mobile home and paced the empty rooms. Lexi’s misery had torn at his heart and her anger—God, she’d been fierce and beautiful. No, he had no choice but to stay away.

Margo might not know for certain, but she suspected his interest went beyond what it should. That meant Lexi was in danger and the
only
way he had to protect her was to leave for good.

His wolf remained silent on the subject. Not the silence of resignation, but the contemplative silence of planning. What choice did he have? As a Lone Wolf, he couldn’t take a mate, couldn’t claim her.

Five packs in North America. Four beyond that of Willow Bend. He could shed his Lone Wolf status, appeal to another Alpha for a place in their pack, bend knee and swear loyalty. His claws sliced out. Between one blink and the next his vision altered, his wolf glaring at the empty place they’d slept for the last few years.

Of the four other packs in the U.S., Hudson River was off the list. He’d spent time there for a few weeks after trying to survive as a Lone Wolf. The Alpha—Brett Dalton—was only a decade older than Mason, but he and Brett butted heads from day one. When he’d left, it had been out of respect for Brett and because he didn’t want his pack.

That left Delta Crescent, Sutter Butte, and the Yukon packs. He knew nothing about the Yukon Alpha, but Sutter Butte’s Alpha was a laid back giant with a will of iron. He’d kindly, but emphatically, told Mason to keep moving when he’d passed through their territory—or he’d kill him.

Which meant only Serafina of the Delta Crescent was likely to take him. He’d spent four months with her, warming her bed and playing a year before he’d come to Dallas. It had never been a good fit. The day her father died, he’d stayed at her side for the first few rounds of battle—and he’d eliminated a few enemies for her along the way.

Serafina would give him a place, but could he swear to her? Could Lexi accept an old lover giving him and his new lover shelter?
Mate
. His wolf insisted and he sat, and thumped his head against the wall.

She was his mate in everything but the mark that said he’d claimed her. His wolf wanted Lexi. Mason wanted Lexi. Neither could have her.

“I wanted a human life.”
What she wanted, he couldn’t give her—not and claim her, too. No, if he wanted Lexi, first he had to return to Willow Bend and reclaim his place there.

Fucked.
 

Each day, he told himself he would leave the next. He’d lined up work in Austin and he’d put out feelers for other states. Staying in Texas kept him too close to Lexi. A glutton for punishment, he continued to shadow stalk her. She returned to work and seemed better, though he could have sworn she’d lost some weight. He couldn’t get close enough to check.

Margo stayed on vigil.

Forcing himself to stay away, he packed his truck and drove south to Austin. He lasted five excruciating days. Northbound once more, he arrived in time to shadow Alexis home. He waited, but Margo wasn’t immediately evident. Still, if he crossed the street and entered the doors, he was going to stake his claim. His wolf paced inside him, restless and violent.

He couldn’t give her a human life and he wouldn’t hand her a death sentence. Still, he sat there until the lights in her apartment went dark and for a while after. Heading back to his mobile home, he parked on the spit of land and stripped off his shirt. He wanted to go wolf for a while. He had five hundred acres to roam on, maybe they could run the edge off.

Thoughts of Lexi distracted him and he heard the other wolf only seconds before the man seized him. Whirling, Mason blocked the first and second blows, and struck back with one of his own, hurling his assailant away. Ryan landed on nimble feet, his eyes wolf bright in the darkness.

Inside, his wolf roused from grief to roar. He’d wanted to run, but a fight would do, too.

They battled in near silence, neither holding back. Mason’s speed, however, gave him a slight an edge. Cuts littered his arms and shoulders from the three times he and Ryan grappled. Ryan’s blood spattered his clothing and the land. Twice, they slammed into the truck and left a man shaped dent in side wall of the bed on the second collision.

Unlike their very first fight, Mason was no longer an awkward teen nor was he slow. Still, Ryan kept coming. Strength and speed marked every blow. Mason tasted blood after Ryan’s fist connected with his jaw and he heard the crunch of bone when he plowed into Ryan. He landed on the man and wrapped his arms around his neck. Squeezing, he ignored the bloodied stripes Ryan tore along his arms and, gradually, the older wolf’s struggles began to cease.

All he had to do was rip Ryan’s head sideways and it would snap his neck. But he didn’t let his rage blind him—Lexi loved her father and Ryan’s attack had everything to do with Lexi. Mason deserved his censure. She didn’t deserve to grieve.

“Yield,” he said in a harsh voice. “Yield and I will release you.”

For a long moment, Ryan said nothing and Mason worried that he may have already killed her father. Then the older wolf growled his answer. “I yield.”

Mason released him immediately. Ryan paced away, chest heaving and the sound of their panting filled the air. Mason stalked toward the mobile home. He’d left beer in the fridge. They both needed one. He also trusted Ryan’s word—the wolf had yielded. He wouldn’t attack again, not unless Mason provoked him. He washed his face and pulled the bottles out. When he returned, he found Ryan on the porch and the other man accepted the beer.

They drank in silence. The crickets slowly resumed their night song on the hot, humid night.

“You’ve gotten stronger,” Ryan said, finally. He’d apparently already reset his jaw.

Mason shrugged. “You still fight like a bastard, sneaking the first hit.”