Chapter 14
Just Drive
TEDDY
I start driving, so distracted I’m not even sure where I’m going.
I pass through a crowded village with families out for a stroll, couples headed to dinner, a group of teens tossing a football on the beach, and huff out a ragged breath.
Everyone is with someone else, so I drive on, seeking a quieter spot for reflection.
Eventually I find a widening of the road on the Lake Michigan side of the peninsula that forms Door County; here the surf is rougher, the water chillier, and the towns less congested.
I pull off, parking at an overlook with a twisty path down to the beach.
I take my time climbing down; after falling once already today, I don’t want to stumble on the tree roots and loose rocks.
I finally reach a quiet stretch of shoreline and wander over to a boulder; perching on top of it, I stare out at the curling waves, too deep in thought to really see them.
When Sophie was cleaning and bandaging my cuts in the kitchen, something happened that made her feel really uncomfortable; she was so unsettled she continued scrubbing that pot until I shut off the water.
I think Sophie must have sensed my inner wolf, yearning for my fated mate; it took all my self-control not to reach out, cup her face in my hands, and claim her full, pillowy lips.
Of course she’d probably evict me if I even tried, and I wouldn’t blame her. A werewolf needs to restrain his impulses at all times, even more so around his mate.
Growling, I drop my head in my hands. What am I going to do?
The last thing I want is for Sophie to tense up around me, but I can’t possibly avoid her either. Other than when we’re sleeping in our separate bedrooms, we’re going to be together nearly non-stop, agonizingly close and yet so far apart.
Maybe it’s just as well she’s taking tomorrow off; it’ll give us both some time to cool off. But Sophie is going on a date with her prospective boyfriend… even worse, she’ll be wearing a bathing suit.
Aargh! I’ll be worrying about her the entire time we’re apart. I growl aloud again.
I need some counseling from a werewolf with more experience, ideally an alpha. But I’m not in a pack, and the last person I should discuss this with is Jake Spellman.
On the other hand, if Jake’s as smart as I think he is… I’m not going to be able to hide my feelings for his tantalizing faerie cousin.
Not for the first time I find myself asking: Miss Dragonfly, what were you thinking?
Eventually my stomach tells me I need to eat, and I head south toward Sturgeon Bay, the largest town in the county and the only place to find fast food restaurants.
It’s almost eight p.m.; I have just enough time to grab some to-go burgers and then watch the sunset over the bay. I’m in the drive-through line, waiting to place my order, when I see a bulked-up, dark-haired werewolf stride past, hop on his motorcycle, and zoom out of the lot.
Despite the warmth of the summer evening, an icy chill courses through me; that wolf looks vaguely familiar, but it can’t be him.
Last I saw of him, he was loping away from the fight that claimed Jarrod’s life and nearly took mine.
I never did learn his name; he appeared in the woods that day and disappeared just as quickly.
Shrugging, I head over to the harbor; I doubt it’s the same guy, and I have more pressing concerns than reliving painful history. Munching on a cheeseburger, I watch as the sun dips down below the horizon, the sky darkening from golds and peaches to reds and violets.
By the time the sky is a deep indigo, my mind’s made up.
I need to find the man I hope will be my next alpha: Jake Spellman.
I take my time driving back to Riddle Hill; I’m not ready to return to the cottage I share with Sophie, not until I can get some advice.
As I plunk down on the only available barstool inside Howling Shores Pub, Wes quirks his dark eyebrows at me. “What can I get you?”
I glance around the nautical-themed werewolf hangout. “I need to find Jake Spellman.”
The black-bearded pub owner grunts, “You sure about that?”
“Positive.”
“He’s in a mood; don’t say I didn’t warn you. But if you’re sure…” Wes nods at a booth in the corner, where Jake Spellman is sipping a beer with another fellow, a werewolf with dark blond hair and beard.
I order a root beer from Wes and carry my mug over to the corner. Jake Spellman glances up and gives me a hard nod. Not unfriendly, but not welcoming either, exactly as an alpha should respond to an outsider intruding on his privacy.
The other werewolf looks over and cocks his head. “Let me guess. Are you Leslie ‘T is for Teddy’ Barker?”
“That’s right.”
The man introduces himself. “I’m Rob Wolferman, Jake’s beta. I thought you were stopping by our pack meet tomorrow night. You’re early.”
“I need to speak with Jake tonight,” I reply stiffly.
“What gives you the right—”
“It’s alright, Rob,” Jake interrupts. “I’ll catch up with you later.”
Rob takes his mug and leaves, but not before giving me a sidelong glance.
Jake waves his hand at Rob’s vacated bench. “Have a seat.”
“Thanks.” I slide into the booth and place my drink on the table. “Um… I have a problem that requires an alpha’s guidance.”
Jake squints at me. “I’m not your alpha.”
“I hope to remedy that.”
“Is that so?” Jake takes a long swallow from his glass, sets it aside, and leans forward. “You have a lot of nerve, Barker.”
Maybe Wes was right, and I should have waited until Jake was in a better mood, but it’s too late now. “I have no one else I can discuss this with.”
Jake’s scowl softens somewhat. “Alright. I’m listening, but before you ask for any guidance, I’d like to hear about your last pack; what went down, why you’re a loner, and how you wound up working for Dragonfly Spellman.”
I’ve been preparing to have this conversation with Jake, the one man who deserves to know the details. I stare down at the caramel-colored liquid in my mug, gathering my nerve.
“Let me start by answering the last part of your question. Two of Miss Dragonfly’s garden gnomes found me lying unconscious near the edge of her estate.
I was bloody and bruised, but still breathing; unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said for my alpha, Jarrod Huntley, who was discovered in the woods half a mile away.
I’d crawled on my hands and knees, seeking help from the nearest home, when I’d collapsed on her property.
“Miss Dragonfly ordered the gnomes to carry me into her mansion, where she and her healer nursed me back to health. Once I was well, Miss Dragonfly offered me a position as her companion. She was a very kind and astute faerie; she must have realized I needed a break from the pressures of pack life so I could heal from the trauma.”
“Pressures? What sort of pressures?” asks Jake.
“The need to be looking over my shoulder, to be prepared to defend myself from bullying.”
Jake shakes his head. “That doesn’t sound like a healthy pack at all.”
When I put up my hand, Jake arches an eyebrow at my bandaged palm but nods at me to continue.
“Jarrod was a good, decent man, but he wasn’t ready for the alpha role.
He inherited it from his brother, who’d passed away unexpectedly six months earlier.
I think Jarrod was still grieving, so he didn’t see the warning signs I did. ”
“Such as?” prompts Jake.
“Such as the charming loner named Drew who turned up out of the blue, seeking entry into our pack. Jarrod was eager for new members, so he promptly accepted him, but the guy never fit in. Just the opposite in fact; he was a disrupter.”
“Is that when the bullying started?”
“Yeah. I wound up tussling with him at least once a week.” I lock eyes with Jake. “I’m no coward, but I prefer to settle things without my fists, if possible.”
“That’s not cowardice, but common sense,” grunts Jake. “Tell me, what was Jarrod’s beta doing during all this pack upheaval?”
“That’s the worst part. Jarrod had been our beta when his brother died, and he’d left that spot vacant until the loner showed up.”
“Don’t tell me he promoted the loner into the beta role.”
Nodding, I continue. “I suppose in some ways it was a logical move, since Drew was the best fighter in our pack, next to Jarrod, but he was also a prime bully. Drew eventually challenged Jarrod to a fight, but not at a pack meet with witnesses. No… he had other plans.
“Drew told Jarrod he wanted to show him some property the pack could acquire for a new hangout. I followed behind them, remaining downwind so they couldn’t pick up my scent.
When Jarrod’s back was turned, Drew and another werewolf, a complete stranger, attacked.
I joined the fight, desperate to defend Jarrod, but it was too late.
Jarrod went down, and I took a lot of blows, unable to fend off two aggressive werewolves.
I don’t think they wanted to kill Jarrod, just scare him enough so he’d step aside and let Drew take over, but Jarrod hit his head when he fell… and he was gone.”
“Did you ever find out why Drew attacked in such an underhanded fashion? What was his ultimate goal?”
“Miss Dragonfly later learned that my old pack—the few werewolves who stuck with Drew after Jarrod’s death—had been arrested for some phony security scam.
I guess they hired out as security guards and proceeded to steal from their customers.
” Shrugging, I add, “You know the trouble werewolves can get into with the wrong sort of alpha. I can only assume Drew had broached the topic with Jarrod, who would have shut him down cold.”
“I’m surprised Jarrod didn’t kick him out on the spot.”
I shake my head. “Old Jarrod would have, but grieving Jarrod wasn’t fully engaged.”