4. Chapter 4
Adrian
The gravel creaks under my tires as I take the corner sharper than necessary, my knuckles pale on the steering wheel. Rain pelts the windshield in sheets, matching my mood. My cruiser's lights paint the darkness in flashes of red and blue.
Like I need to spend my evening breaking up drunken fights. Almost without realizing I’m doing so, I bring my wrist to my nose and inhale the remnants of her scent, closing my eyes as I do so.
Shit. I shouldn’t do this. I know better.
I can't get her scent out of my head. Vanilla and sugar with a hint of something spicy—cinnamon maybe—wrapped around a core of pure female pheromones. The memory of her standing toe-to-toe with me in that garden, refusing to back down, sends my wolf pacing restlessly beneath my skin.
And then the memory of those two full, soft breasts as I caught the wanton bumblebee from underneath her blouse flashes in my mind, swiftly followed by the feel of her entire body as she lay, sprawled over me. Her luscious curves, her full, delicate lips, partly open, as she stared down at me.
As she stared down at me like she wanted me to touch her. To kiss her.
Fuuuuck. I really need a good night’s sleep.
I slam my palm against the steering wheel, frustration boiling through me. What the hell is wrong with me? She's a stranger. A temporary visitor to my territory. An irritating, stubborn, beautiful complication I don't need.
I growl, forcing the thoughts away. I've got more important things to deal with tonight than a stubborn human wedding planner with eyes that flash when she's angry.
The radio crackles to life.
"Sheriff, situation's escalating." Maya's voice comes through tight with tension. "Olven just threw a chair at the mirror behind the bar."
"On my way. Two minutes out." I press the accelerator harder, watching the speedometer climb.
The Siren's Call appears through the rain, a weathered building of dark wood and foggy windows perched at the edge of the harbor. Even from the parking lot, I can hear raised voices coming from inside. Great. Just what I needed to cap off this shitty day.
I step from the cruiser, rain immediately soaking through my uniform. The door to the bar bangs open as I approach, disgorging a pair of gnomes who scurry past me with averted eyes.
Inside, the air hangs heavy with the scent of spilled alcohol, salt, seaweed, and the unmistakable musk of anger.
The usual blue-tinted lamps cast everything in an underwater glow, illuminating a scene of chaos.
Tables overturned. Glass crunching underfoot.
At the center of the destruction, a female troll squares off against a merfolk, both of them heaving with rage.
Maya Lorne stands between them, hand on her holster, her posture rigid with warning. She catches sight of me and relief flashes across her face.
"Sheriff's here," she announces, voice cutting through the tension.
The merfolk, an old sailor named Olven Brackish, turns his massive frame toward me. The gills around his neck writhe with agitation, their bioluminescent tips pulsing angry red. His skin shimmers with the subtle iridescence typical of his kind, his arms flexing with barely contained rage.
Across from him, Jada Killkon draws herself up to her full seven-foot height, her gray skin flushed purple across the cheekbones. The broken chair leg in her hand looks like a toothpick against her bulk.
"Evening," I say, my voice deceptively calm as I step forward. "Someone want to tell me what's worth destroying Mira's bar over?"
The mermaid bartender-owner, Mira Loresong, looks over what's left of the bar, her blue-tinted hair still perfectly styled and her face a mask of jaded boredom. She’s seen more than her fair share of drunken fights over the years and I do not envy her the position.
"This oversized squid," Jada snarls, gesturing with the chair leg, "spilled his drink on me and had the nerve to blame me for it."
Olven's gills writhe faster.
"After which this mountain troll called me a bottom-feeding ink-spitter and insulted my mother."
"Your mother is a bottom-feeder," Jada spits. "Everyone knows the Brackish clan breeds with sharks."
Maya's hand tightens on her holster as Olven lunges forward, but I step between them, hands outstretched, my fangs elongating instinctively, my fur spreading across my exposed skin in warning that my wolf is right there, below the surface. Ready to intervene.
Both creatures falter, their instincts recognizing the predator even if their alcohol-soaked brains don't.
"That's enough," I say, not raising my voice. I don't need to. "Jada, think about your mother. What would she say if she had to bail you out of jail again?"
Jada's grip on the chair leg loosens slightly, uncertainty crossing her features.
"He started it."
"I don't care who started it. I'm finishing it." I turn to Olven. "And you. Your father works for Harbormaster Fenmoor. Would he appreciate a call about his son brawling like a juvenile delinquent?"
Something sizzles in the air as I speak, the subtle current of power that comes with being a future alpha. Both drunkards respond to it instinctively, their postures softening by degrees.
Then Jada ruins everything .
“More like an octopussy.” She snickers, proud of her jest.
From the corner of my eye, I catch movement. Olven's right arm curls into a fist, muscles tensing for a strike. Without looking, I reach out and catch his wrist mid-swing, stopping it cold.
"Don't," I warn quietly, finally meeting his gaze. I let my eyes flash emerald green, a glimpse of the wolf beneath my skin. The next moment, my entire skin is covered with fur and my muzzle lengthens. It’s the precursor to a full shift and they know it.
The merfolk freezes, his gills drooping in submission. The troll takes half a step back, the chair leg clattering to the floor.
"Here's what's going to happen," I continue, releasing Olven's wrist. "Olven, you're going to pay Mira for the damages to her mirror.
Jada, you're going to apologize for whatever you said about Olven's mother.
Then you're both going to leave through separate doors and not come back for a month. Understood?"
Both parties grudgingly nod.
"Good. Make it happen."
I watch as Olven pulls out his wallet, counting bills onto the bar with exaggerated care. Jada mumbles what might generously be called an apology. When they finally shuffle out separate exits, the tension in the room dissipates like smoke in a breeze.
Maya approaches, holstering her weapon.
"Nice work. I thought we'd have to tase them both."
"They just needed a reminder of where they stand in the food chain." I survey the damage, mentally calculating the paperwork this will generate. "You got this covered? I need to head out. "
Maya nods, understanding in her eyes. She's one of the few who knows how little sleep I've been getting lately, though she never mentions it.
"Go home, boss. I'll finish up here."
The rain has lessened to a drizzle by the time I reach my cruiser.
Exhaustion pulls at my limbs as I slide behind the wheel, the adrenaline crash hitting hard.
Two days without proper sleep is taking its toll.
And if I judge by the state my encounter with Julia Schroeder left me, I won’t be getting any sleep tonight, either.
The drive to my cabin takes fifteen minutes, the road winding deeper into pine forest, away from the lights of town.
By the time I pull into the clearing surrounding my cabin, my head throbs with fatigue.
The cabin sits dark and silent, its weathered logs silvered by moonlight breaking through the clouds.
I step from the car, stretching muscles knotted with tension. Then I freeze. An unfamiliar scent marks the air.
Female. Wolf.
Not pack.
My hackles rise as I follow the scent to my front door, finding it unlocked.
The living room is undisturbed, stone fireplace cold and dark, simple furniture untouched.
But the scent trail leads deeper, toward the back of the house, to my bedroom.
I move silently, tracking the intruder, hand resting on my service weapon.
I push the bedroom door open, already knowing what I'll find from the concentrated scent of arousal and perfume that hits me.
The female lounges naked on my bed, long blond hair artfully arranged over one shoulder, her athletic body displayed to its best advantage against my charcoal-gray sheets. Her clothes are on the chair beside the bed, tossed carelessly aside.
I sigh. Jennifer Fangsworth has been at the top of my mother’s preferred mate list for a whole year. One way or another, the word got out to Jennifer that the future alpha of the Saltford Bay Pack was looking for a mate and she came to try her luck.
"You're late," she purrs, running a hand down her side in a practiced gesture of seduction. "I've been waiting for hours."
"What the hell are you doing in my house?" My voice comes out colder than intended, but I’m too tired to care. Too tired and too pissed at the intrusion.
Jennifer’s smile falters slightly.
"Warming your bed. It's so cold in here, so empty." She pats the mattress beside her. "You work too hard, Adrian. Let me help you relax."
Anger rises in me, hot and sudden. Not at her specifically, Jennifer is just doing her part for her pack. No, I’m angry at my mother. I’m angry at our pack laws that dictate I must take a mate before becoming alpha. I’m angry at myself for not being able to sleep.
Fuck. I’m tired.
"Get dressed." I step back from the doorway. "Now."
Confusion crosses her pretty features, followed by hurt pride.
"I don't understand. Your mother said …" Her voice trails off, and she doesn’t finish her sentence.
"My mother lied to you." The pieces click into place with sickening clarity. "Whatever she told you, I didn’t invite you, and I certainly didn’t authorize this."
Jennifer sits up, the sheet falling away as she reaches for me .
"She said you've been alone too long. That you need a strong wolf at your side."
I remain by the door, unmoved.
"My mother doesn't get to decide who enters my bed."
She inhales deeply, nostrils flaring, and her expression shifts from confusion to suspicion.
"There's another scent on you." She slides from the bed, approaching with predatory grace. She’s naked, her body moving with graceful ease. Wolves are unbothered by nudity. We’re used to shifting between forms in front of pack members, so her confidence doesn’t surprise me.
I hold my ground as she grabs the front of my uniform shirt, pressing her face to the fabric and inhaling deeply.
Her eyes widen, then narrow to slits of anger.
"Female." She spits the words like venom. "You’ve been spending time with a female your mother doesn’t know about."
I don't correct her assumption. Let her think what she wants.
"My personal life is none of your business. Or my mother's."
"A human?" Incredulity colors her voice as she steps back. "You're the alpha's son, Adrian. Your choice of mate reflects on your entire pack."
"I don't recall asking for your opinion on my choices."
Anger flushes her cheeks as she snatches her clothes from the chair.
"Your mother will hear about this."
"Good." I cross my arms, watching impassively as she dresses with jerky movements. "Tell her this ends now. All of it. The matchmaking, the meddling, sending wolves to my den uninvited. And while you’re at it, you can let my mother know it’s not just rumors.
I may just decide to take a human for a mate. "
Jennifer pauses in the act of buttoning her jeans, shock evident in her expression.
"You wouldn't."
"Try me."
She finishes dressing in stony silence. When she's done, I step aside, gesturing toward the front door.
"Go home, Jennifer. This isn't personal. But my boundaries aren't negotiable."
Her perfume, too strong, too artificial, trails behind her as she stalks past me. At the door, she pauses, looking back with a mixture of anger and something like pity.
"A human can never understand what it means to be pack."
She steps into the night and the door closes behind her with a decisive click. I lean against it, exhaustion crashing over me in waves. My wolf paces restlessly beneath my skin, agitated by the invasion of my territory, by the thought of my mother's interference.
By Jennifer's scent lingering in my bedroom. My beast’s hackles rise, outraged at the female’s scent. I don’t want to investigate the feelings more than I have to, but I know why my wolf is reacting that way. My wolf wants a female in our bed, alright. But not this female.
The memory of Julia's scent, her touch, her defiance, floods through me and my beast whines with need.
No. I scold myself as much as I scold my beast. I won’t allow this. Julia Schroeder cannot be mine.
I push away from the door and head for the shower, stripping off my uniform as I go.
Under the scalding spray, I try to wash away the day, Jennifer's perfume, the stench of the bar fight, the lingering tension in my muscles.
But nothing can wash away the growing certainty that something fundamental has shifted in my life, and I'm powerless to stop it.
No one can stop a mate bond from forming once it’s started.