Alphas on the Prowl (47 page)

CHAPTER TWO

In the end, it took him two long hours to get Lana on the road, and even then she insisted on trying to wrap up a couple of loose ends.

“Let me just check with Aunt Jean about—”

“It can wait.”

“I need to drop this off for Beth—”

“She can wait, too.”

She huffed but let him steer her to the truck. And finally—finally!—they were off, with him sending silent thanks to the gods that ensured a total lack of cell phone coverage up at the cabin in the hills. Otherwise, they’d never get any peace.

The cabin he’d built with Cody a few years back wasn’t far away, but so high and so isolated that it felt like a different world. Even the vegetation up there was different, with small clumps of cliffrose and snapdragon that perfumed the area with their own special scent. The simplicity of the cabin made everything else seem simple too, and he needed that illusion right now.

“Nice,” Lana sighed, watching the desert sweep by. Summer was just getting started, but the last patches of spring color still showed in little bursts of yellow, green, and the occasional red.

It was more than nice. It was home.

He stretched the twenty-minute drive to thirty because rattling down the dirt road at top speed couldn’t be comfortable for Lana. He kind of got a smile, though, imagining the baby floating inside, enjoying the ride like a bouncy castle. Someday, when the baby was big enough, they’d have to take the little tyke someplace to try one out.

He lingered a little too long on those thoughts after he pulled to a stop below the cabin, because Lana beat him to the back of the truck. She had already hauled the two heaviest food bags out and started up the path by the time he scrambled after her, grabbing at the groceries.

“Let me get them,” she protested.

“Let me.” He reached again.

Lana refused to let go, and, too late, he saw her face flush. “I can get them!”

“So can I.” He used the lightest tone he could, but even that came out growly.

He tugged on the bag, and she let go so abruptly, he stumbled back.

“I’m pregnant, not sick!” Her voice was shrill, her face bright red, her posture stiff and stubborn in a sudden rage. Crap, he’d never seen her look so angry.

“I know.”

Too little, too late. Why couldn’t he ever find the right words to say?

“Stop treating me like a child! You don’t let me do anything!” Lana cried, making chopping motions with her hands.

“You don’t let
me
do anything!” he said.

Except he didn’t say it. He yelled it. Thundered it like a battle cry.

If his hands weren’t full, he’d be clutching the air, trying to pull the words back. Because he’d just yelled at his mate. He’d never done that before. Promised himself he never would.

He stood staring at her for a minute, waiting for his world to unravel. She had every right to stomp back into the truck, slam the door, and drive away. Lana wasn’t one for drama, but she had her pride. And he’d just insulted it—the ultimate crime. He dropped the bags with a loud clunk and slumped backward against the truck as his wolf raged inside.

What the hell are you doing, yelling at the woman we love?

The desert seemed shocked at his outburst, too, and everything went eerily silent. When he felt the vibration of her footsteps on the ground a moment later, they were softer than he expected. Coming in his direction. Coming close. Bastard that he was, he couldn’t even look her in the face.

“Ty,” she said, and for some reason, it came as a whisper, not a shout. Why didn’t she yell back? Why was her touch soft and pleading instead of the sharp slap he deserved?

Lana, though, rarely did the expected. She didn’t yell or protest or cry. She just whispered his name, again and again while her arms cinched around him in a full-body hug that even the baby joined in on, nudging his stomach.

“I’m sorry, my love,” she mumbled into his neck.

He wanted—needed—to say it right back, but the words wouldn’t come. They were stuck at the back of his throat, caught between a bubble of hope and a lump of shame.

She stroked his ear with one hand and his shoulder with another. The repetitive motion and her voice slowly settled his wolf, who still snarled inside.
Why can’t you ever get anything right?

“My love, it’s okay.” It was her, comforting him, instead of the other way around, the way it should be.

He looped his arms around her and squeezed her as close as he dared. “I’m sorry,” he finally managed. “It’s just…”

Just what?
his wolf grumbled.
That you’re a complete fuck-up of a mate?

“...it’s just that I hate not being able to do anything.” It was true: the baby lay tucked inside Lana’s body while he stood stuck on the outside, unable to help in any way. The bouts of morning sickness she’d dealt with, the nights she could barely settle in to sleep—he couldn’t do anything to help. Powerless for the first time in his life.

“You do everything.” Her voice was muffled by his shirt, because she had nestled into that perfect spot at the juncture of his shoulder and chest. He wished he could hold her there forever and forget everything else existed.

He slid a hand to her belly, willing the apology to go there, too. “I can’t do anything to help.”

“You do everything for us,” she insisted.

Us.
He used to think men were lucky not to carry the burden of pregnancy, but now he saw the flip side. Lana and the baby were bonded in a way he never could be. He could cook and carry and fuss as much as he wanted, but it was all just busywork.

Maybe she read his thoughts, because her hand pressed over his, putting enough pressure on her belly that he came up against something firm. The baby’s foot? A hand? Its head?

“No,” Lana whispered. “I mean us. Us three.”

Three. Maybe he was imagining it, but he could swear the baby pushed back. A tingle raced down his spine, and the feeling spread, slowly settling his nerves.

“I just hate not being able to do more.” All his life, he’d been good at everything he tried. But this…he could try all he wanted and he’d still never help as much as he wished.

“I couldn’t do it without you. Besides, you did the most important part.” Her chuckle warmed his blood, and the knots in his muscles loosened just a tiny bit. Didn’t hurt that she’d pushed her hips closer to his.

He kept his nose in her hair, breathing her in. The baby’s scent mingled in there, too, and when he changed the angle, he caught a whiff of his own scent on her.
Us three.

“And believe me,” Lana said, “once this little guy is born, you can carry, feed, and nurture all you want.”

“Believe me,” Ty murmured. “I want. I will.”

CHAPTER THREE

Lana closed her eyes and let the gritty bass tone she loved so much echo through her bones. Ty would be a great father. Hell, he was already a caring partner, and frankly, she couldn’t wait to see her big, growly mate cuddling a tiny baby in those thick arms.

But that was three months away. Right now, she ought to be more concerned with practical matters. There were groceries to put away. A cabin to air out. A king-sized bed to warm up.

So get to work already!
her wolf growled.

Ty seemed to have seized on the same idea, because he backed her against the truck, bracketed her sides with his arms, and leaned in for a slow nuzzle. He scraped up and down her cheek with his chin, marking her with his scent. Then he planted a kiss on her lips and followed up with more, each deeper and more possessive than the last. The rumble in his chest grew, and she was pretty sure that jut against her stomach wasn’t the baby. Another minute pressed up against him like that, and she’d be clawing at his shirt.

“I was planning on getting you to bed, you know,” he murmured, right into her ear. Close. Hot.

“Who needs a bed?” She tugged him closer by both sides of his collar and went right back to his lips.

The man smelled of pine and sage and open space, and it was impossible to get enough. A couple of centuries of him wouldn’t be enough. She worked the buttons of his shirt down and smoothed her hands over her favorite acre of hot, hard flesh. Her head rang with a thousand ancient voices, chanting for man and woman to come together as one. She and Ty were always on fire together, but being pregnant added to the incendiary mix like oil on an open flame. She was already burrowing into the waistband of his jeans, fumbling with the fly. He chuckled and the sound resonated through her soul. As usual, he kept his cool while she let her wild side out.

Which just wouldn’t do. Pride was pride, even to a hormonal she-wolf. So she stretched up and found his right ear, the key to all his emotions, and started kissing. Licking. Nibbling. Whispering what she wanted, how she wanted. A smug part of her mind sat back and watched her man unravel, one rough, woolly thread at a time.

“You and me,” she whispered.

He barely moved, barely nodded, but his cock jutted into her hip.

“You inside me,” she went on.

The easy caress of his hands grew heavier and more insistent as he pulled her flush against his body. Like she was going anywhere else.

“You filling me, again and again…” she whispered right into his ear, then kissed. Tongued. Licked.

His head tilted into her as if he were listening to something far away. The call of the wild, maybe, saying that he, too, could let go.

“…and again,” she finished.

His lips went from tiny pecks to crushing kisses, and she knew she had him.

Actually, he has us
, her wolf grinned as he lifted her against the side of the truck.

We have him
, she insisted, wrapping her legs around his waist.

Semantics
, the wolf decided, because who cared what you called it when it tasted this good?

The baby bump got in the way, though, so he cradled her body against his and moved toward the back of the truck. Memories flooded in: their first night together, when he’d laid her out like a feast in the back of that very pickup and licked her until she couldn’t tell if those were stars overhead or shooting lights. Except it was daylight this time, and a dry wind tickled her flesh where her shirt had gotten worked up high.

She could see it already: how he’d ease her back in the bed of the truck. How his eyes would go dark when she wiggled out of her clothes. He’d give her that molten-lava look before skimming all the way down her torso to where she wanted him most. And then she wouldn’t need sight any more because everything would boil down to his tongue on her sex and the roaring sensation that would consume her body and soul. All he had to do was flip down the tail of the truck and the next ride to ecstasy would begin.

But one of the grocery bags chose exactly that time to tip and spill its contents onto the dirt. A cascade of glass and aluminum broke into the haze of her mind along with a muted smack: the sound of eggs cracking.

“Shit,” Ty muttered.

She clutched his shoulders, wishing the distraction away. Yearning for him to fill her then and there. But a bottle of wine rolled along the ground then reached a little hollow and rolled back, making insistent crunching sounds over dirt as it went. Over and back, over and back. The sound grated on her ears.

Ty’s body slumped against hers, and the fire raging inside her gave way to a wave of giggles.

His chest rose then fell in a weary sigh.

She pulled back and smiled, running a soothing hand over his arm. “Maybe we should get used to this.”

He raised one perfect eyebrow, a dark line under the brown-black of his thick hair.

“I mean the baby interrupting us just when things get interesting.”

He smiled at that, and it was like the sun breaking out from behind a winter storm. He nibbled her ear and slowly lowered her until her feet found the ground.

“Well, then,” he breathed from close up, “we’ll just make it interesting all over again.”

“Is that a promise?”

He smiled one of those thousand-watt smiles he hid from everyone but her, and that alone made up for putting off sex. “Promise.”

She sealed the promise with a long kiss. Only after another minute of admiring her mate ticked by did she sigh and look at the mess of groceries.

“I got it,” he blurted and dove in the way.

She bit back her protest and forced herself to do nothing but watch. She had to wrap her itchy fingers around the hem of her shorts to hold back, but she managed.

The baby shifted, and Lana couldn’t help picturing a tiny face with an angelic smile cooing then settling into sleep. A baby she hoped would inherit all of his father’s qualities. The size, the strength, the rock-hard principles. Everything, maybe, but that crushing sense of duty, the unreasonably high demands he made of himself. But being loving, loyal, and full of integrity—yeah, the baby could have all that.

“Baby doing good?” he asked, right on cue.

She might be the one carrying the baby, but she swore Ty possessed some kind of mental link to the little guy. She ran a hand over her belly and smiled. “Baby’s proud of his dad.”

He was still crouched over the groceries, and when he turned to glance her way, his eyes shone with joy.
“Her
dad,” he corrected then quickly glanced down. Not quick enough to hide his blush, though.

“His
dad.” Lana grinned. It was one argument she loved having because she really didn’t care either way.

“Her dad.”

“His.”

“Hers,” he said, straightening with the bag in his hand.

“His—”

He cut her off with a kiss then gave her a stern nod in the direction of the cabin. “Hers. Now scoot.”

She had to smile at that. The man could go from gruff and growly to soft and tender in a flash—secret little flashes reserved just for her.

The way he stood blocked access to the heaviest bags, so she picked up the two that were only half-full and set off along the path to the cabin. Because maybe carrying bags didn’t prove anything but how stubborn she was. If it made him feel better, then okay, he could carry the heavy bags, and her backpack, too.

When Ty pushed the cabin door open with a creak and kicked off his boots, the last layers of her work stress sloughed away—layers she didn’t even realize she’d been carrying. Maybe it was the same for Ty. He was so used to shouldering everything, he didn’t even know he did it. She cocked her head, watching him step through the open-plan cabin with the groceries.

No, it was more like Ty was all too aware of his burdens and just couldn’t let go. Maybe he needed it, in a way: being busy. Being needed. Being useful.

She let out a long, slow breath. All the vows she’d made to herself lately focused on being a good mother. She’d forgotten to add a couple about being a good mate. Like taking care of her man and letting him take care of her.

He shooed her away from the kitchen. “I got this.”

The man was perfect. She backed up to the bed, sat down, and watched him get even more perfect when he pulled off his shirt in the midday heat and tossed it aside.

“I bought that cheese you like.” He held the package up.

“Yum,” she called, though her mind wasn’t on the cheese. It really was time to open those windows—before her heat level soared out of control again.

“And lots of milk for the baby,” Ty continued as she slid a windowpane up and the shutter out.

She chuckled. Yeah, she’d been going through gallons of it lately.

“Your favorite cookies,” Ty added, holding a package in each hand.

“You are a prince,” she said, “and look at me.” She flopped onto the bed and held her hands up. “Not even lifting a finger.”

He grinned one of those rare, boyish smiles he only let out when no one else was around, and her heart beat a little faster. Who needed the state lottery? She had her mate.

She turned on her side to watch him unpack the groceries in jeans, bare feet, and nothing else. When she closed her eyes, everything slowed to the comfortable pace of oozing honey. Ty’s voice was low, the bedding soft, and the homey scent of the cabin covered her like a blanket, pushing everything else far, far away.

When she let her eyes flutter open, the slanting light told her that hours, not minutes had passed. She blinked and rolled to her side, finding the cabin empty. Where did Ty go?