Changed: 2 (Wolf's Den)

Aline
Hunter

Book two of the Wolf’s Den series.

Beta werewolf Declan Schroder knows
Rachel Gentry is his mate. The hard-as-nails female is more than he could ask
for—intense, clever and sexy as sin. There’s only one problem. Rachel is human
and fears his kind. She’s receptive to his advances—their sexual chemistry is
impossible to deny—until an attack by a rogue wolf shifter threatens to destroy
their newfound bond.

As Declan’s mating heat rises, he
knows he’ll do whatever it takes to claim Rachel as his own. To keep her, he’ll
have to love her from dusk ’til dawn, introducing her to pleasures she’s never
known.

Loving a big, bad wolf is wicked
and dangerous, but not in a way she’s bound to regret.

A
Romantica®
paranormal erotic romance
from Ellora’s Cave

Dedication

To the readers who allow me to do what I love for a living.
Your support means the world to me. An enormous thanks as always to my editor,
beta readers and critique partners.

“Just Rachel? Where are you? Come out, come out, wherever
you are.”

Rachel Gentry jumped in alarm and ripped her gaze from the
oil filter she’d been in the process of replacing. Her heart thudded in her
chest, beating in a frantic rhythm. She hated it when people bypassed her
office and made their way to the back of the garage. Every single time it
happened it scared her out of her wits.

She swallowed down her momentary shock and counted to ten.

This time the asshole visitor was someone she knew—his voice
easily recognizable. Not to mention he was the only person to call her
Just
Rachel
. She cursed herself for not giving him a last name the first time
they’d met, telling him she was, “Just Rachel” when she’d gone to his tattoo
shop in search of her friend on day. He’d never forgotten and made sure to
address her as such each time they saw each other.

She’d known he’d probably show up when she least expected
it. He seemed to enjoy taking her off guard. Mr. Tall, Dark and Arrogant told
her he’d keep coming back just yesterday, even though she’d told him to leave
and not come back. The aggravating man danced to the beat of his own drum.
She’d learned that the first time they met.

Declan Schroder.
Damn him.

He did what he wanted, when he wanted. She could argue with
him until she was blue in the face but it wouldn’t matter. Once he’d made up
his mind about something the decision was set in stone. Point of fact, he’d
been coming to her shop every afternoon for the last two weeks. At first he’d
introduced himself—something he hadn’t bothered doing the first time they’d
met. He’d been cordial—sticky sweet, even—until she’d asked him why he’d paid
her a visit.

The atmosphere had changed in that moment, the air almost
electric around them. He didn’t answer right away, frowning as he tried to
think of what to say. It took him a minute to get going but once he did she got
the picture.

Clearly.

Since her best friend Chloe had recently joined his
crew
,
Declan indicated he wanted to make a peace offering. He’d tried to take Rachel
to dinner, saying he wanted to get to know her better since she was family now.
But she’d known that had been bullshit man-code. What he really wanted was to
take her to home, fuck her silly and put another notch on his bedpost. She’d
seen him sizing her up, his gaze raking over her from head to toe. She might as
well have been naked.

He had no shame whatsoever.

Up until then she hadn’t thought he was
that
stupid.

There wasn’t an easy way to reject his offer. For one, Chloe
had asked Rachel to give her new friends a chance. So being a bitch was off the
table. Besides, Rachel wasn’t accustomed to dating. Generally she didn’t fall
into the parameters of what society deemed attractive. It wasn’t that she was
heinous. With her light skin, red hair and blue eyes she thought she wasn’t
totally hideous. Sadly most men found her profession all kinds of wrong for a
woman. They wanted flirty and sexy. Not dirty from working on engines all day
in work boots, jeans and stained T-shirts. The men who
had
expressed an
interest in the past had either been missing teeth or wanted a one-night deal,
so it had been easy to tell them to fuck off.

She’d politely told Declan no, explaining that while she
appreciated the offer it wasn’t a good idea to get friendly. Then he’d done
something she hadn’t expected. He’d grinned and proceeded to tease her, calling
her “fraidy cat”. She hadn’t understood his behavior. He’d seemed frustrated.
Certainly she’d snubbed the man but it shouldn’t have bothered him. He was sexy
as sin and could have any woman he wanted. Maybe it was the thrill of the hunt
that had captivated him? Perhaps he’d found pleasure in stalking her day after
day?

He is a werewolf after all.

For an instant her dream from the night before came rushing
back, the images vivid and arousing. He’d captured her before she could bolt,
holding her tight as he’d eased her to the ground. She braced for what would
come next, her entire body tense. She could see the wolf inside him, could
almost feel it trembling beneath Declan’s skin. His face had come so close to
hers, their noses nearly touching. She’d closed her eyes, shaking as she’d
waited to see what he had in store.

Then her phone had started blaring, yanking her out of the
dream. Pissed and a little horny, she’d answered the call. She shouldn’t have
been surprised that it had been her mother on the other end of the line—drunk
and in a sour mood. Without so much as a hello her mother had started bitching
about Chloe, informing her she needed to end the friendship, telling Rachel
horror stories about werewolves.

She hadn’t been surprised.

Since she could walk her disgrace of a parent had told her
stories of little girls who went missing and were found with their head, arms
and legs missing. Her mother claimed they’d been hunted down like animals and
eaten, torn limb from limb. The macabre tales had terrified her then and
terrified her now. She’d listened quietly, letting her mother have her say.
What she’d wanted to do was go back to sleep, wishing she could escape the hell
that was her life.

If only Dad hadn’t died. Things would have been so
different.

“Just Rachel,” Declan drawled. “Here I come.”

You’re not sleeping anymore, dumbass
. Her gaze darted
to the side.
This is real. Pay attention.

Thinking fast, she tried to decide what to do. It didn’t
matter where she hid. Declan would find her. It was a part of his nature, his
instincts paving the way. He could hear each beat of her heart, was able to
identify her emotions by smell. Right now he’d probably locked on to her scent.
In a couple of seconds he’d be right beside her, his presence so powerful she’d
stare and gawk at him like a preteen who was tempted to take him out for a test
drive.

Something shuffled a few feet away.
Shit.

Declan moved silently but she could feel him inching closer.

She wasn’t sure if she could turn him away this time. The
past few days he’d broken her down, getting beneath her skin. Each of their
encounters had become more intense, the battle of wills swinging from her
advantage to his. Just yesterday—after she’d politely told him to go play hide
and fuck himself—he’d backed her to a wall and caged her in his arms. Heat had
radiated from his body, his brown irises shifting to a vibrant gold. He’d worn
a black T-shirt, flaunting the impressive tattoos that started at his wrists
and wound up his arms. The ink somehow complemented his tan complexion and
added to his potent charm.

There’d been nowhere to run or hide.

He’d lowered his head to kiss her, his breath whispering
across her lips. She’d thought about running but he seemed to know what she’d
been thinking. His hand came down, fingers snaking around the fragile bones of
her hip. He hadn’t been willing to let her go, that much had been evident.
Butterflies had erupted in the pit of her stomach. Her pussy had clasped,
creating a rush of wetness in her between her legs. Her breasts had swelled, the
lace of her bra chafing her puckered nipples.

Declan not only looked like pure sin, he practically oozed
sexuality. She could see the devil under the surface, ready to burn her with a
touch. She’d known then that the real thing would be so much better than her
vibrator and fantasies. He was capable of doing things to her she’d only
dreamed about. Her pulse had amplified in her head, her entire body going hot.
She’d been willing to tread into dangerous waters for the first time, curious
about what he’d do next.

So she’d edged closer, anticipation replacing hesitation.

Then a customer had waltzed in to pick up his piece of shit
Buick.

Declan had moved away immediately, granting her freedom
before the human with a busted radiator asked any questions. She’d been too
relieved to thank Declan properly, taking advantage of his foresight. Her
intrusive client had been so interested in his phone he hadn’t bothered looking
up as he walked in. Very fortunate since the people in her area weren’t fond of
species and races they didn’t understand. Mr. Buick would have passed out or
called the police if he’d noticed a werewolf inside the room.

Declan had warned her he’d be back, making sure he had her
attention before he exited the building. She’d stood there like a moron, watching
him go, frozen in place. Just like that he’d put a chink in her armor. No fuss,
zero muss. Soon she’d be eating out of his hand.

Why did he have to keep picking apart her defenses?

Because he knows he can, idiot.

Rachel didn’t like werewolves, with one notable exception,
and that was only due to the fact she’d been friends with Chloe Bryant for
years. They’d been locked together at the hip since they were children, long
before Chloe had found out about her werewolf heritage. After Chloe told Rachel
the truth, sharing that soon she’d change into a werewolf, Rachel hadn’t been
able to turn her back on the only person she considered family.

Especially with everything Chloe had been through.

The girl had lost her mother at a young age and had never
known her father—a man who had passed down his werewolf genetics to his
progeny. If it hadn’t been for Jackson Donovan—a local pack Alpha and Chloe’s
mate—Chloe would have faced her first shift alone. From what Rachel had
gathered the first transformation for a half-breed wasn’t pleasant. Jackson’s
Alpha nature had paved the way and made things much easier for Chloe. Rachel
had been curious about everything that had happened—wondering how a person went
from one form to another—but hadn’t asked Chloe what it had been like. She’d
merely inquired about her friend’s well-being, got an answer and dropped the
subject. It wasn’t her place to judge. Jackson doted on Chloe and Rachel
believed her friend truly was happy. That was the most important thing.

Soft footsteps drew her attention. Rotating her head, she
spied a pair of worn boots heading in her direction. Her stomach knotted, dread
lining her gut. Declan was quiet as a cat. If she didn’t pay attention he’d
sneak right up on her.

Ignore him. Maybe he’ll go away.

Large booted feet stopped beside the car. “Found you.”

“I wasn’t hiding,” she snapped and focused on her work.

The filter had been turned too tight the last time the oil
had been changed. She couldn’t get it free. Tilting to the side, she put all
her strength into her arms. That would be the ultimate shame—her lack of
ability in the garage with Declan around to observe the failing. To her
embarrassment, the damn thing refused to budge.

Please, not now. Come loose, you piece of crap!

He kneeled and leaned over, his head appearing beside the
elevated tire. “Need any help?”

“No.” She exhaled, gripping the filter.

She gave it another go, straining with all her might. Her
shoulders protested, her wrists aching. This was why she hated her garage.
Limited funds meant limited supplies. She didn’t have racks to lift
automobiles, meaning she had to get on the ground and do things the
old-fashioned way. That meant anyone could venture into the shop and bother her
at will.

He managed to flip around and wedge his body beside hers.
“Let me do it.”

“Go away!” She planted her elbow in his ribs, keeping her
hands on the filter. His subsequent grunt was music to her ears. “Can’t you see
I’m busy?”

“Stubborn female,” he retorted, reaching over her head.

They fought for control of the cylinder, fingers rubbing
together. Depending on what she’d been doing in the garage her hands could look
like they’d been soaked in battery acid or stained with tar. Today her cuticles
were crusted with oil and dirt, the tips black with grime. It would take a
solid ten minutes of scrubbing to get them clean. His nails, by comparison,
were immaculate except for the areas she’d touched. Perfectly neat and tidy.

Wasn’t the
woman
was supposed to be the pretty one?

“Just Rachel.” He slid his other hand up, cuffing her wrist
tightly with his fingers. “I’m trying to be polite, but you’re starting to piss
me off. Let go and move your hands. I’m not asking again.”

“Don’t call me that.”

He turned his head, looking at her. “Why?”

Keeping her eyes forward, staring at their interwoven hands,
she tried to decide how to respond. Anyone with a reliable set of ears could
hear the way he rolled the words off his tongue. He might as well have been
calling her Honey pie, Sugar Cakes or Baby Doll.

“You say it like an endearment.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“You get me about as hot as the Artic. That’s what’s wrong
with it.” The enormous lie breezed from her mouth. The man was like a rash that
constantly aggravated her. “I’m not your Boo-Boo and you sure as shit aren’t my
Teddy Bear.”

“Hmm,” he hummed, drawing out the sound. “We’ll see.”

He tugged on her wrist and her fingers slid from the filter.
In a blink he worked his fingers under hers and grasped the blasted thing. It
loosened with the first turn of his wrist, coming free without a problem. She
had to look at him as he handed it over, a smile tugging at the corners of his
full lips. His irises were gold, the pupils dilated. She could smell the faint
and appealing aroma of the aftershave he’d splashed over his bristle-free face.

“You’re welcome,” he whispered, studying her.

She couldn’t think when he stared at her like that—her mind
stripped of rational thought. He’d just said something but the words didn’t
compute. Why was it suddenly so hard to breathe? When did the room get so warm?
What did he want? Did it really matter? There was only Declan with his squared
jaw, smooth nose and piercing eyes. With a swift perusal she decided she liked
him with a little stubble on his face.