McQuade: The Lone Wolf Takes A Mate (2 page)

Immediately her mind went
there
, wondering how all that testosterone would feel unleashed on her. She wasn’t very experienced but she wouldn’t even mind if he liked it a little rough. The thought of what else he might like sexually had her panties soaked in seconds.

Lord, she wanted a bad boy just once!

The other men in the bar were potential threats to her safety—she’d been an idiot to come in here alone. But the big one, the dark, brooding guy in the back, if she were smiled on by the gods to have a hunk like that want her—he would be a definite threat to her heart.

It was a chance she was willing to take if he were so inclined.
She felt an immediate draw to him, an impulse to throw herself at his feet and beg him to take her.

She snorted delicately at her thoughts. Like that was ever going to happen.

All right, Rose, no more romance novels for you.

Yes, the man was a fine
specimen of manhood–she shivered just thinking of what he would look like without his clothes. Would he have tattoos anywhere else to match those on his upper arms? She’d heard it was agonizing for a shifter to get a tat. The ink had to be laced with silver in order to get the tattoo to take. What would it feel like to run her tongue over every swirl and color? To soothe the long ago pain with a little pleasure?

His face could have been carved from stone. He
looked incapable of smiling or exhibiting any tender emotions. If Rose needed anything in her life, it was tenderness. She felt life had chewed her up and spit her back out already.

She
definitely wouldn’t get any TLC from him or any other shifter. A nurse at the hospital had dated one briefly and didn’t have one nice thing to say about the experience. Even though Rose didn’t believe everything the woman said, she had no doubt a shifter would be hard on a woman’s heart.

Rose had
helped treat shifters in the emergency room at the hospital. The adults rarely came in for treatment with the whole quick healing thing and all, but occasionally a younger one needed some patching up from an injury received before they’d reached the age where they could shift and heal themselves. The doctors hated shifters and treated them like second-class citizens. They excused their prejudice behavior by insisting the shifters would put them out of business, especially if they kept marrying stupid women. Meaning stupid human women. If everyone had shifter genes and could heal at such an amazing rate, doctors would soon become obsolete and so would their rich and luxurious lifestyle.

These men were nothing like the ones that came to the hospital or even the one her friend had dated. The
‘animal’ in these men was way too close to the surface, visibly ready to pounce on any unsuspecting prey.

Alice,
what have you gotten me into this time?

Trying to hide her worry lest she be set upon like a piece of meat thrown to starving dogs, Rose
walked purposely to the bar. The man behind it was almost as menacing in appearance as the patrons. She hesitated to ask, but if Alice had been in earlier, maybe he would remember. No one usually forget her blonde-headed, beautiful sister.

“Excuse me,” she cleared her throat to draw the man’s attention.

A jerk of his greasy head acknowledged her presence. “Whatdaya want?”

Rose licked her dry lips
, wishing she’d thought to grab the loose change out of her car. She was thirsty and her wallet held only two dollars. Good thing tomorrow was payday. She seldom had money left at the end of the month and if she did, she kept it in the bank, away from temptation to spend it. She’d love a cup of coffee right about now. Or hot chocolate. She drank coffee for the caffeine but she enjoyed hot chocolate when she was cold and out of sorts.

She was definitely out of sorts.
And her feet were freezing.

“
I’m looking for my sister. She may have been here earlier. Do you remember seeing her? Tall, blonde, and very pretty?”

His gaze
raked over her as if to say what the hell happened to her. She looked nothing like Alice and had received looks like this all of her life.

“No.” H
is greasy hair swung with the movement of his head. He stacked the glass he’d been wiping, then turned back to her. “What do you want to drink?” He pointed to a sign above the scarred wooden bar. “There’s a two drink minimum.”

What a charmer Rose thought.

“Mmm, can I order after I use the bathroom?” She raised her hand to wipe the water from her cheek, wincing as the movement caused her dripping hair to splatter drops onto the dusty floor. Hopefully there was a hand dryer in the bathroom and she could at least dry her hair a little. While she was in there maybe another customer would come in and by the time she exited the restroom, he would have forgotten she hadn’t purchased anything.

The way he looked at her—as though he knew exactly what she was contem
plating—made Rose shiver in a very different way from sensation caused by the clinging wetness of her clothing.

Or the man in the back of the room.

“In the back.” Another nod of his greasy head pointed her in the right direction before he picked up the dirty rag and returned to wiping the stack of glasses in front of him.

The restrooms were in the rear
of the building, a half-lit neon sign indicating their location. The path she needed to take would lead her past a group of men who, she noticed suddenly, were giving her way too much attention. She pulled her sweater tightly around her body and walked onward, holding her eyes downcast. Just as she thought she was in the clear, the man closest to the aisle extended his leg, blocking her way.

“What’s your rush
, honey?”

Rose didn’t know the best way to handle t
he situation. There were other women in the place who appeared unattached, and she was certainly nothing to turn any man’s head so she didn’t know why this was happening. But she’d experienced situations like this in the hospital where a man felt the need to impress his buddies by trying to prove his manhood. Of course, that’s why most of them wound up in the emergency room.

“I’d like to pass,
please.”

“Oh
, boys,” the big man puffed out his chest as he glanced around the table at his friends, “such a
polite
little thing.” His gaze held hers and she could see the warning in his eyes. “Boys, do you think she’ll be so polite when I have my cock jammed up her tight little pussy?” The men laughed and suddenly she knew she wasn’t dealing with just a posturing, intoxicated man. These men were shifters and shifters didn’t normally get drunk. By the dark blonde color of their hair, she figured they were some kind of cat shifter. Probably lion.

She tried to sidestep as t
he man moved his leg, no doubt intending to hook it around hers and topple her into his lap. Before he could complete the action, the man who had captured Rose’s attention earlier was by her side, gripping her elbow and pulling her away.

“
Go,” he ordered, pushing her toward the back.

She didn’t even look at him as she
stepped across the other man’s leg, walking as fast as she could to the restroom. She should have run straight out the front door, but she didn’t think she’d be any safer in the cold, wet night. She was trembling by the time she got to the bathroom and locked herself inside. She almost leaned against the door but thought better of it. She wasn’t sure there was any surface in the decrepit building that was safe to touch.

Walking to the sink, she
grimaced at her reflection. Calling herself a drowned rat would be insulting to the rat. Her hair was plastered to her head and her ears were sticking through the matted strands, resembling an overgrown pixie’s. The room didn’t have a towel dispenser so she had to wipe away the moisture from her face with the sleeve of her sweater. Any makeup she’d worn this morning had completely disappeared. After work she’d changed into a navy skirt, white blouse, and heavy navy sweater. Her legs were encased in dark hose and she’d topped off the outfit with her old maid shoes.

Taking off her sweater she groaned
as she realized why she’d suddenly garnered the attention of the men at the table. The rain soaked blouse and her lacy bra were completely transparent, sticking to her like a second skin and revealing the size and shape of her breasts. Her nipples were rigid from the cool temperature. For all the coverage the blouse provided, she might as well have walked in front of them naked.

Something she wouldn’t have minded doing for the dark haired man
who had rescued her.

Wringing as much moisture as she could from her dripping hair, she combed
her fingers through the matted strands and nixed the idea of trying to dry it. She searched in her pocket for something to tie it back. Luckily, she found a rubber band. After securing the heavy swath of hair, she repeated the wringing out process on her sweater, squeezing out as much moisture as she could without stretching the material completely out of shape. She held the sweater under the electric hand dryer and tried not to look at her ghastly image in the stained and cracked mirror. After about ten minutes she realized the dryer wasn’t having much effect and the garment was as dry as she was going to get it.

Pulling it back on, s
he checked her cell phone again. Still no signal or indication of a missed call from Alice. Now the low battery warning was beeping. She turned it completely off and stuffed it in her pocket. Would the bartender throw her out when he realized she didn’t have any money to pay for the two-drink minimum? Maybe he’d take the two dollars she had in her wallet and let her use his phone to call a cab. She had no means to pay the fare but she’d worry about that later. The most important thing was to leave the bar as quickly as possible.

*****

McQuade wasn’t sure what had driven him to his feet except the instinctive need to protect the woman. Granted, his position in the pack was one of protection and enforcement, but coming to the aid of those outside the pack–especially against other shifters–was not something he did lightly. Interference in another pack’s business could have serious repercussions.

The largest of the lions rose to his feet
to confront him. He was bigger around the middle and wider through his chest, but McQuade had at least two inches on him plus more muscle and a whole lot more experience. The lion looked as if his version of fighting was to pick up his opponent and slam him against the nearest wall.

“This doesn’t concern you, wolf.”

“She’s mine.”

That did not just come out of his mouth.

“Says who? She doesn’t carry your scent. She’s fair game.”

As an
enforcer, he dealt with this type of animal, man or shifter, on a daily basis. Complete assholes. Sheesh. Sometimes he was ashamed to be a shifter. Some, like this moron, thought anything was theirs for the taking simply because they could. He’d like nothing better than to extend his claw and slice through the bigger man’s belly. “You couldn’t smell your way out of a paper bag.”

That got laughs from the
group of lions and snickers from the hyenas across the room.

“Mine.” He said the word one last time, turning his back on the lion, a
n insult of the highest degree. He braced himself for an attack, but it never came. Two more steps and he was in the shadows of the hallway.

*****

Rose opened the bathroom door slowly. She was not a stupid woman. Well, normally she wasn’t. She realized any of the men from the lion shifter’s table—or any other—could have followed her. The man, who had interfered, for whatever reason, had no duty to continue to come to her rescue. Rose had been on her own far too long to expect help from others.

The hallway outside the bathroom was dark, the only
illumination a half burned out fire exit sign at the very end above another steel door. Her hope of opening it and making a run for it died quickly when she saw the chain holding it shut.

She listened
for any sounds that would indicate she was not alone. When she heard nothing, she stepped outside and breathed a sigh of relief. What had the man done after she’d left? For some reason she didn’t think the other men had given him any trouble. He was much bigger and looked a hell of a lot scarier.

But you could never tell
with the male species—especially a shifter male.

Hopefully they had all left.

“Why are you here, little girl?”

The words came out of the darkness, scaring the crap out of her.
She knew instantly who was there. Her reluctant rescuer. He appeared next to her so fast, forcing her against the wall and holding her there with his big body she didn’t have time to think, much less voice any type of protest. She knew she should try and get away. She was pressed against a wall in a biker bar by a man who dwarfed even her large frame. A very scary man she didn’t know. For some reason, she wasn’t afraid of him. Not like she’d been of the lion shifter. She shuddered as she thought about what would have happened if this man hadn’t intervened.

Her breath hitched as he
leaned closer, putting his lips near the corner of her mouth, the way a lover might. Rose’s whole body went rigid as his soft breath caressed her cheek. She stopped breathing as the layers of masculine scent washed over her. He reminded her of the forest after a rain, earthy and alive. His biceps, sculpted as if from an artist’s hand, caged her in. Did a man’s eyes have the right to be so dark, so brooding? Excitement mingled with fear thundered through her blood and it took her a moment to realize he was talking.