Pleasure Me (10 page)

Wylder shifted to wolf form and howled, calling for Drew and Ryker.

Upon their arrival, he explained what went down. Starr added what had happened at the store with the man behind the counter.

Drew spoke first. “How did Kade get this far from the shop?”

“The last vehicle behind us was a gray Jeep.” Starr pointed toward the road where the driver had turned off. “Had to have been him. Once he’d shifted, he wouldn’t have had far to run here.”

“I’ll go,” Ryker said. He dashed off for the area she’d mentioned.

Drew regarded Kade’s remains, human again. “What address does your mom use on her invoices?”

“This isn’t her fault,” Starr cried. “She’s always been careful. She has a post office box in Collins. Her payments are through PayPal. She’d never give away our secrets. Even if Mrs. Tolliver or the man at her shop were in on this with Kade, they knew nothing about Los Lobos, the same as him.”

Wylder gestured to the body, wanting Drew’s attention off Starr and Ethra. “Where do you want me to put him?”

“Ryker and I will take care of things.”

“This happened because of me,” Starr said to Drew. “I take full responsibility. Do you want me to leave town?”

“Fuck no.” Wylder wrapped his arm around her shoulder and turned to Drew. “This wasn’t her fault.”

“Never said it was.” Drew turned to her. “I don’t expect or want you to leave. No more running away though, got it?”

“There’s no need to any longer.” She pressed against Wylder. “I have everything I need here.”

Epilogue

The following spring….

Wylder hammered the last nail into his and Starr’s house, built with the help of his buddies in town. He was part of their construction team now, putting up homes, businesses, and additions to existing structures. This was the kind of creating he enjoyed, along with the physical labor. At the end of the day, Starr was always on hand to ease his aching muscles with her legendary massages.

Life was good…finally.

After Kade’s death, there had been a few isolated stories in the Hollywood trade papers about his disappearance. Interest in the matter died quickly. Mrs. Tolliver never contacted Ethra again for more artwork even though the pieces sold quickly at inflated prices. If Tolliver had been in on Kade’s plan, she hadn’t contacted the authorities. Ethra never heard from anyone on the matter.

Wylder supposed he should have felt bad about the kill but couldn’t bring himself to work up any regret. Guys like Kade weren’t men. They were scum, the worst sort of cowards who hurt women, children, and animals to make themselves feel superior. God knows, being kind didn’t feed their shaky egos.

For too long, Starr beat herself up about what had happened. Wylder listened, letting her work out her demons in her own way. Finally, she accepted that shit happens. Everyone makes mistakes. Hating yourself for a misstep wasn’t wise. Learning from your errors was what counted.

She’d finally left the past behind and offered her unconditional love to him, the same as he’d done for her.

He hung the welcome sign over the front door and waved to Ethra. He’d chosen the lot next to her house for his and Starr’s place. Both of them had been without family for too long. Time to make up for lost time. “Taking a break?” he called out. “Finally?”

Ethra leaned on the porch railing, sun bathing her face. “Only for a few seconds. The day’s too pretty to miss. Starr should be out here, too. The fresh air would do her good.”

Not when she was enjoying herself inside. After slaving over Ethra’s promotional pieces, Starr had discovered she liked filming. She now recorded and edited events for the pack…a child’s first shift, births, special celebrations, whatever the townspeople wanted. Her YouTube spots of Ethra had increased the woman’s business 100 percent. She was actively looking for help with her commissions. Another artist to train, since Starr didn’t want the job.

“Maybe later,” he said. “She’s working on one of her videos.”

“She works too hard.”

“Takes after you.” He wagged his finger at her.

She laughed. “My place for dinner. Don’t forget.”

With the luscious scents of her cooking flooding their house, how could he? Wylder winked at her and strode inside. Starr was in front of her laptop, as always, hair pulled back in a ponytail, her scar not a big deal any longer, her face as fresh as the teenager he recalled.

God, he adored her. He kissed the top of her head.

She wound her arm around his thigh. “Heard you shouting to Mom. We really need to put soundproof glass in our bedroom unless you want her to hear our crude moans.”

“Soon as the shipment comes in, the windows go up. I ordered them for our other bedrooms, too.”

“All six of them, huh?” She looked up at him. “No one would ever accuse you of not being confident.”

“Hey, I’m the man.” He hunkered down at her side and rested his hand on the beautiful curve of her belly. She was in her fifth month. “I thought you already knew how awesome I am. After this one comes, we can have a dozen more. Bam, bam, bam. We’ll put those babies two to a room. If things gets too crowded, I can always build additions to the house.”

“I was wrong. You’re irrationally exuberant. We’re stopping at six.”

“Whatever you want.”

“Seriously? How about you, this baby, Mom next door, this town, and a future?”

“Is that all? Give me something hard.”

Smiling, she cupped his balls and cock, sending a frisson of pleasure racing through his body.

“I was going to ask the same of you.” She slanted him a look. “You have some time to spare your mate?”

He had the rest of his life to give her, starting now.

Matchmaker, Matchmaker, Make them a match.

With Drew’s reign settling the hills, wolves are returning to the Black Hills. Wolves who need mates. The pack needs to grow, right?

So four of the surviving matrons take it upon themselves to set up couples. Question is, how do these ladies decide who to match? Whichever unattached wolf they see first, from a list, or do they just draw a name from a bag?

Their method doesn’t matter, but you can bet they’ll call in favors, make behind-the-scenes plans, and pull whatever strings or stunts required to put wolves together in the name of furthering the pack. And who knows? They might even set their sights on the cantankerous lone bear, Gee….

Black Hills Wolves Matchmaker Subseries

Coming May 2016

Also from Decadent Publishing

www.decadentpublishing.com

A Cougar Among Wolves
by Kali Willows

Prologue

Griffith yanked on the broken iron handle of the dingy wooden door and held it open for her. A blast of raunchy guitar riffs and heavy bass reverberated in her delicate ears. Klaya skulked inside to find what she expected from the local watering hole.

The retched gust of sour beer shot up her sensitive nose and brought bile to the back of her throat.

“Really?” She whipped around and glared at her older brother. “We couldn’t find someplace less…disgusting?”

“Come on, it’s Utah. It’s not like you’ll find swanky New York nightclubs here. Where’s your sense of adventure?” He chuckled and strolled ahead of her toward the grubby bar.

“Adventure? I don’t consider bathing in smelly filth an adventure.” She followed him as she grimaced.

A few steps in, she tripped on the uneven wooden floor and slammed into Griffith’s back. He spun around and steadied her with his hands on her shoulders. “You okay?”

“Peachy,” she retorted, eyeing the grimy rolled-copper bar.

Several patrons tittered and she glared at them. Some of the mangled wooden chairs were held together with tattered layers of silver duct tape. Most had spindles missing from the backs. Coasters tucked under the legs of the dozen or so square tables indicated an attempt to stop them from wobbling.

“Charming.” With another slow, cautious inhale, something else settled on her palate. She leaned close to her brother’s ear. “We aren’t the only shifters in here.”

“I know,” he replied. “I smell a wolf, too, but I don’t sense any danger.”

She counted sixteen patrons throughout the bar and one tall, gangly man with greasy blond hair and a tattered yellow T-shirt filling a pitcher with beer from a hose behind the counter. From every corner, the wall-mounted speakers pumped heavy metal music, torturing her tender ears.

“I’ll buy the first round, your favorite.” Griffith plopped down on a wooden stool at the bar and patted the empty seat beside him.

“Fine, but I doubt they’d serve a tequila sunrise here. Shots of booze and beer are all you’ll get.”

“It’s wet, and it’s booze. what’s the problem?” He snickered.

“You’re buying me more than one round.” She eased herself onto the uneven-legged barstool, the sticky grime on the surface snagging at the seat of her jeans. “For the record,” she hissed, “I hate you.”

“Barkeep,” Griffith called out over the noise. “A round of tequila shots and beers.” He gestured between the two of them. “And one for this guy at the end of the bar.”

The solitary drinker hunched over clutching a beer. Dark-haired, with a scowl marring his handsome features, the distinct presence of trouble and bitterness emanated from him. Amid the brash vibrations of the loud music and chatter, her acute hearing honed in on other sounds, including the clanking of beer bottles on table tops and scuffing of shoes across the bar floor. The occasional grunt from the guy at the end suggested he was in a foul mood, and likely, already inebriated.

“Are you sure he needs another?” She spoke close to her brother’s ear.

“Looks like he’s had a run of bad luck.” Griffith accepted the three shot glasses from the bartender and reached for the lime wedges in a bowl on the counter along with a shaker of salt. “Hey, buddy, care for a round?” He held up a glass.

The scowl lightened, and he picked up his beer and limped toward them, favoring his left leg.

“Thanks.” The man took the glass and tossed it back, snagged a lime, and sucked on it. “Mighty kind of you.”

He turned to leave, but her smartass brother couldn’t leave well enough alone. “The name is Griffith, and this is my little sister, Klaya.”

The man faced them and curled his lip. “Hi.”

Desperate to escape, she shifted to the edge of her barstool. “How ya doin’?”

“I’ve been better,” he slurred.

A powerful scent wafted up her nose.
I smell a wolf
. But she detected no danger from him whatsoever.

After a few more rounds of tequila, the slovenly stranger spilled his guts about being shunned from his town, explaining he was now on the run and his limp was a result of a gunshot by one of his father’s cronies. A profound sense of compassion filled Klaya, along with the heated trickle of alcohol down her solar plexus. “I’m so sorry you’ve had to go through all that, Drew.”

“Thanks.” He nodded. Now on the barstool between her and Griffith, he confided even more. “The worst is I can’t be with my Betty.”

“Hey, will you two be okay if I excuse myself for a second?” Griffith arched his brows. “Nature calls.”

“Sure.” She didn’t mind her new company. Knowing his story, she felt terrible for the guy. Klaya downed another shot of tequila and chased it with a beer. “I’m sure things will work out for you.”

“Cheers to that.” He clinked bottles with her then set his on the counter, and buried his head in his arms.

Klaya chuckled. The guy was going to hurt in the morning.

A massive man with exceptionally dirty, long, black hair and a bulky leather jacket took a seat on the stool on her other side. Based on his bone structure, dark eyes, and tanned complexion, she estimated him to be of Native American descent. His protruding forehead gave off a Cro-Magnon air, complementing his thick, undefined lips.

“Hey, Johnny boy,” he bellowed. “Gimme a beer and one for the lady.”

The bartender rushed over, popped the beer caps off with shaky hands, and slid them in front of the brute. “O-on the house, Jimmy.”

“I thought so.” The man leered at Klaya, slid a bottle in front of her, and then growled, “Hey, gorgeous. This is for you.”

She reeled back. “Uh…thanks, but I’ve got my own.” She held up her drink. “And I’m done for the night.” She inched away, nostrils stinging from his pungent body odor.

“You’ll have another.” He chugged his beer.

“No, I won’t.” She gritted her teeth. “But thank you.”

The Neanderthal slammed his bottle on the counter. “I bought you a drink. You should be grateful.”