15. Calder
Calder
I stood there watching Ethan as he walked away from me, the rain working its way under my leather jacket.
My cock pulsed in my jeans, begging to be set free.
Meanwhile my wolf was practically drooling, the lust in my brain buzzing so loud I could barely think.
Ethan’s scent still filled my senses, so intoxicating that I could hardly do anything but run on instinct.
Mate.
I wanted to fuck him, to claim him, to mark him as my mate.
If there had been any doubt before as to what Ethan might be, there was no question now.
He was absolutely my mate, the one destined for me.
And now, not only had I initiated a relationship with a human without society approval, I’d kissed him too when I knew full well that I should’ve broken it off completely.
I tried to tell myself I was getting close to help with the rogue wolf attacks, but as I stood there in the cold rain, I knew that was just an excuse to get close to him. Ethan Murphy was my mate and now that I’d touched him, there was no going back.
If the Secret Mate Society found out, they’d report me to the Elder Council.
Then my pack wouldn’t just be looking for a rogue wolf.
They’d be looking for me too. Any shifter that formed a mate bond with a human without approval was risking the exposure of our entire supernatural world.
Had Ethan been a normal human, I might’ve had an extremely slim chance of getting him cleared quickly.
But he was a reporter looking into these rogue wolf attacks and he already knew things he shouldn’t.
At this point, I’d be lucky if the Elder Council didn’t kill him off completely once they found out.
I needed to get a grip. Fast.
The rain pelted harder, soaking through my clothes, but I barely felt it. My phone buzzed in my pocket, probably Trevor wondering where I was, or worse, Elias checking up on me. I ignored it, my eyes still fixed on Ethan's retreating figure.
Every instinct in my body screamed to chase after him, to finish what we'd started. To claim what was mine. I took two steps forward before forcing myself to stop, digging my heels into the wet pavement.
"Fuck," I growled, running both hands through my dripping hair.
A passing woman with an umbrella gave me a startled look and hurried by.
I couldn't blame her. I probably looked unhinged, soaked to the bone, breathing hard, and talking to myself in the middle of a downpour. And, unless I was mistaken, my eyes had shifted to Alpha gold. That definitely wasn’t a natural human color.
I turned and stalked back to my motorcycle, my movements jerky and uncoordinated as I fought against my wolf's demands. The keys nearly slipped from my trembling fingers as I tried to unlock the helmet compartment.
This wasn't just about me anymore. My pack depended on me. If the Elder Council stripped me of my Alpha status for unauthorized mating with a human, especially one investigating supernatural crimes, my entire pack would suffer. Trevor, Patrick, all of them would pay the price for my weakness.
I swung my leg over the bike, not bothering with the helmet. The rain stung my face as I revved the engine and peeled out of the parking lot, heading in the opposite direction from Ethan. I needed to put distance between us before I did something even more stupid.
The ride home was a blur, my mind replaying that kiss over and over. The softness of his lips. The little gasp he'd made when I pushed him against the wall. The way his body had responded to mine like we were made for each other.
Because we were.
By the time I pulled into my driveway, my clothes were plastered to my skin and my teeth were chattering. I barely noticed. The house was dark and empty, exactly what I needed. No pack members to smell Ethan on me. No questions I couldn't answer.
I stripped off my wet clothes as soon as I was inside, leaving them in a sodden heap on the bathroom floor. The hot shower did nothing to wash away the memory of Ethan's scent, his taste. If anything, the heat only intensified the wolf's desire, making my cock harden again.
“I really shouldn’t,” I whispered, already running my hand down the trail of hair on my abdomen. “This… This isn’t right…”
But my fingers were already wrapping around my throbbing cock, the thick vein running along the top pulsing under my palm.
I gave myself a long slow stroke, a shuddering gasp falling from my lips.
Ethan’s scent filled my nostrils, intensified by the heat and steam.
I put one hand against the tiled shower wall, leaning against it as I gave into my desires.
My mind didn’t need any help to drum up an intoxicating image of Ethan.
Those green eyes looking up at me with desire, his blonde hair darkened with water from our kiss in the rain.
I imagined him here with me, naked and wanting, his hands exploring my body the way my tongue had explored his mouth.
My stroke quickened as I pictured pushing him against these same tiles, his legs wrapped around my waist as I—
"Christ," I groaned, my head falling back as pleasure shot through me.
In my fantasy, Ethan was gasping my name, begging for more, his normal curiosity replaced by pure need. I could almost feel his hands on my chest, his mouth on my throat. The wolf in me wanted to bite, to mark, to claim him completely.
My hand moved faster, water cascading over my shoulders as steam filled the small space. I was close, so close, when my phone rang from the bedroom. The shrill sound cut through my haze of lust like a knife.
I tried to ignore it, tried to chase the orgasm that was just out of reach, but it rang again. And again.
"Fuck," I snarled, releasing myself and slamming my palm against the shower wall. The interruption had killed the moment completely.
I shut off the water and grabbed a towel, water still dripping from my hair as I stalked naked into the bedroom. The caller ID made my blood run cold.
Elias Ageratum.
I stared at the phone for three more rings before finally answering, my voice rougher than usual. "What?"
"Alpha Thorne." His cultured voice was crisp, businesslike. "I trust you received the patrol reports from last night?"
I hadn't even looked at them. "Of course."
"Good. The Council requires an update on your... investigation into the journalist. Have you made progress?"
My grip tightened on the phone. Ethan's taste was still on my lips, his scent still clinging to my skin despite the shower. "I'm handling it."
"I'm sure you are." There was something in Elias's tone that made my wolf bristle. "However, the Council has some concerns about your methods."
"What concerns?"
"You've been seen with him multiple times. In public. The Council wonders if perhaps you're getting too... involved."
Heat flooded through me, part anger, part panic. "I'm gathering intelligence. Getting close to a target requires building trust."
"Indeed." Elias paused, and I could practically hear his violet eyes narrowing. "Just remember, Alpha Thorne, that some lines cannot be uncrossed. The Council's patience has limits."
The line went dead, leaving me standing naked in my bedroom, water pooling at my feet, with the distinct impression that I was being watched. Warned.
I sank onto the edge of my bed, my head in my hands.
The Council suspected something. They knew I was spending time with Ethan, and they were watching me closely enough to know about our public meetings.
If they found out about the kiss, about how my body had responded to him, about the mate bond that was forming whether I wanted it or not...
My phone buzzed with a text. For a wild moment, I hoped it was Ethan, maybe apologizing for walking away, maybe asking to see me again. Instead, it was Trevor.
Leadership meeting tonight. 8pm. Emergency.
Emergency. My stomach dropped. Had they found the rogue? Or worse, had the Council already contacted my pack about my investigation methods?
I forced myself to get dressed, pulling on jeans and a flannel shirt with mechanical precision. Every movement felt wrong, like I was wearing someone else's skin. The wolf in me was still restless, still aching for its mate, but I shoved those feelings down deep.
By the time I arrived at the auto shop where we held our emergency meetings, Patrick and Trevor were already there. The tension in the air was thick enough to cut, and I could smell the anxiety rolling off my Beta and Gamma in waves.
Trevor approached me as soon as I walked in, his expression grim. "We've got a problem, Calder."
"The rogue?"
"No." He glanced around, then lowered his voice. "It's about your journalist friend."
My blood turned to ice. "What about him?"
"Patrick did some more digging. Turns out Ethan Murphy's father wasn't killed in a car accident like he claims." Trevor's eyes met mine, and I saw something there that made my stomach drop before he even spoke. "He was killed by a werewolf. And Ethan was there when it happened."
The world tilted sideways. Everything I thought I knew about Ethan, his nervousness around the cattle attacks, his knowledge of details he shouldn't have known, his obsession with supernatural stories, suddenly made terrible sense.
"How do you know this?" I managed to ask.
"Police reports from upstate New York. Fourteen years ago.
Father and son camping trip gone wrong. The official report says bear attack, but...
" Trevor pulled out a manilla folder, showing me a photocopied document.
"The coroner's notes tell a different story.
Claw marks inconsistent with any known bear species.
Bite patterns suggesting a much larger predator.
And witness testimony from a fourteen-year-old boy about a 'monster' that walked on two legs. "
I stared at the papers, the words blurring together. Ethan had seen his father killed by a werewolf. Had lived with that trauma for fourteen years. And now he was here, in Portland, investigating attacks that matched the same pattern.
"There's more," Trevor continued quietly. "The responding officer noted that the boy kept insisting the creature had 'human eyes.' That it looked at him like it recognized him before running away."
Human eyes. The kind of eyes a werewolf would have when partially shifted. The kind of eyes I'd probably had in the rain earlier when I'd lost control.
"Could it be someone else?” I asked, hoping against hope that there wasn’t a name attached to the file.
“It’s him,” Patrick said, speaking up at last. “The man murdered was David E. Murphy.” He stepped over, handing me a page that had been left out of the file. It was an article photocopied out of an old newspaper about the attack. “Ethan is listed as his child and the only survivor of the attack.”
The photo attached to the article showed a young man, his face blank with shock, standing next to a police officer. Those same green eyes that had looked at me with desire earlier today were hollow and haunted in the picture. His shirt was stained with blood.
It was Ethan. There was no doubt about it.