The Pack Leader’s Mate

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

[HARLEM]

“You better not be skipping meals again, Dorian, or so help me,” Harlem growled into the phone.

He didn’t get a reply, leaving a voicemail and all.

Which was frustrating because he knew Dorian wouldn’t take a voicemail seriously.

His friend was a workaholic and ignored his usual feeding schedules in favor of getting more work done.

The man needed a boyfriend to take care of him.

That, or a druid to follow him around hounding him.

Stabbing the button to end the call, Harlem immediately pulled up their text thread, sending half a dozen messages in quick succession in hopes of somehow irritating Dorian into answering him.

He doubted it would work, he’d been Dorian’s feeder for years and getting him to take care of himself was sometimes more frustrating than his dating life, but he had to try.

Feeder contract or not, Dorian was his friend and he didn’t want him starving himself just because he was busy at work.

He was so distracted by his attempts to get ahold of Dorian that he wasn’t paying attention to his surroundings.

One moment, he was glaring down at his phone, standing off to the side of the sidewalk so he wouldn’t accidentally bump into anyone, the next, someone had snatched the backpack off his shoulder and wrenched it away so hard, Harlem fell to his hands and knees with a cry of pain.

The thief didn’t stop to check on him, racing away without more than a backward glance.

Harlem was so shocked by the fall, it took him a second to realize what was happening.

And when he saw the man running away with his favorite backpack filled with all the textbooks he needed for school, his heart sank and tears filled his eyes.

“Stop! Thief! Give it back!”

[RONAN]

Ronan had been leaving his office and the meeting with the dean of the local college campus about a contract after some students had been mugged when he heard the shout.

He saw the orc running, a smaller figure on the ground behind him with a hand outstretched and tears streaming down his face.

Instincts had him moving before he’d fully taken in the situation.

Orcs weren’t fast, definitely not faster than werewolves, and it took very little effort for Ronan to catch up with the thief.

He tackled the man to the ground, snarling when the orc twisted and punched him in the jaw in retribution for the attack.

Years of training kicked in and Ronan’s fists flew as he fought to subdue the thief.

His instincts screamed at him to finish him off, to remove the blight from their city and protect the innocent who’d been hurt, but he reined in the aggressive urges, stopping when two of his packmates came to assist him and the orc was officially outnumbered.

“Alpha?” Miguel queried, offering him a hand to pull him to his feet.

Ronan took it, shaking off the residual fury that clung to him.

His protective instincts were always a little louder than most of his pack had to deal with.

Being alpha made him a little intense. He’d spent half his adult life learning to control himself before he took over as alpha of his pack, and he refused to let his pack see him lose control.

“I’m fine. Call the police and let the college dean know we may have a lead on his recent mugging issues.”

Thanks to the beating he’d endured, the orc was subdued with just Emmett holding his arms behind his back, but three other members of his pack stood nearby, ready to intervene if the orc got any funny ideas.

Miguel dipped his chin once and pulled out his phone, doing as Ronan asked, while Ronan picked up the backpack the orc had dropped in the scuffle, the one that didn’t smell like him and was likely what he’d stolen.

“I’m going to return this and check on the victim. Keep an eye on him.”

The orc hadn’t gotten too far, but far enough away that the crowds swallowed up the victim.

He ducked around the people walking by, carefully nudging past the circle that had surrounded the smaller man who was still on the ground, arms around his middle and tears streaming down his face. He smelled heartbroken.

“I think this belongs to you.”

The kitsune’s head jerked up, amber eyes widening and more tears spilling out when he saw the bag in Ronan’s hand.

He reached for it, hugging it to his chest when Ronan handed it back to him.

It was then that Ronan smelled the blood.

Not so much that he thought an ambulance was needed, but enough that it made his protective instincts flare again.

“You’re hurt.”

Sniffling and scrubbing his eyes with the backs of his hands, the kitsune shook his head. “I-I’m okay. Just some scrapes. Thank you for– Oh!”

Unable to just ignore the scent of pain and blood, Ronan scooped the smaller man into his arms, turning toward the building his security company worked out of when meeting with clients.

It wasn’t very big, only a few offices and a meeting room, but it was at least private and there was a first aid kit inside.

There was a slight tremble to the kitsune’s delicate frame as he brought him inside, but he put his arms around Ronan’s neck, trusting him to care for him. Ronan wouldn’t take that trust lightly.

His receptionist, James, looked up in surprise when Ronan pushed the door open with his hip and brought the kitsune inside. “Goddess, what happened? Is he okay?”

“He’ll be fine. Bring the first aid kit to my office, please.”

Nodding rapidly, James popped out of his seat and hurried off to get what he’d requested.

Meanwhile, Ronan brought the kitsune to his office, setting him carefully in his desk chair so he could take a better look at his injuries.

There were scrapes on one of his palms and the opposite elbow, and tears in the knees of his slacks exposed scrapes there as well.

Ronan tsked at the injuries, accepting the first aid kit when James hurried into his office to bring it to him.

“Do we need to call a druid?”

Shaking his head, the kitsune was quick to answer, “It’s not that bad. I’ll be okay.”

James waited for Ronan to nod in agreement before leaving to get back to his work. After they were alone again, Ronan murmured, “There’s a druid mated to a member of my pack. It would be no trouble for her to come out here to look at you.”

The adorable man wrinkled his nose, shaking his head again. “Thanks, but… people using their magic on me feels icky.”

Ronan snorted. The kitsune wasn’t the first supe to mention something like that.

It never bothered Ronan all that much, but he knew supes with more active magic tended not to like seeing druids if they could help it.

Luckily, he had a few potions in the first aid kit that would do the job just fine.

He handed one to the smaller man, encouraging him to drink it.

“This one is for pain. It’ll help while I clean out the cuts. ”

Delicate fingers brushed against his when he took the bottle and Ronan felt a tingle sweep through him at the touch.

He took in the man as he drank the potion, finally taking a moment to study him properly.

He was tiny, barely five foot six if Ronan had to guess, with creamy skin and fiery red hair that matched the fur of his ears and tails.

His clothes, which had probably once been immaculate and expensive, were now dirty and disheveled, the soft colors marred by black spots where he’d fallen on the dirty ground.

Instincts screamed at Ronan to care for the man, and even after he cleaned out the cuts and applied a healing salve to them, Ronan found himself hovering as the kitsune stood with a grimace.

“The police will want to speak with you before you leave. They’re waiting to take your statement.”

He knew that because he could feel things from his pack, as all alphas could.

He couldn’t communicate telepathically, that wasn’t a magic werewolves had, but it was a near thing and most of his packmates knew how to express their feelings with enough clarity that Ronan knew what was happening even if he wasn’t in the same room.

Nodding, the kitsune took the bag he’d left by his feet, hugging it against his chest again.

Ronan followed him out, hovering at his back as he moved to speak with the two police officers waiting to take Ronan’s and the kitsune’s statements in reception.

Even when he stepped away for privacy, he kept his eye on the smaller man, excusing himself when it looked like the kitsune was going to leave.

“Wait. Can I walk you home?”

The kitsune looked up at him, a shy smile overtaking his face as he lifted his shoulders. “I mean… I don’t mind either way. You don’t have to if you’re busy.”

“I want to,” Ronan corrected. “You’ve had a shock and you’re still injured. Just let me finish up with the officers and I’ll walk you home, alright?”

Luckily, he was nearly finished with the interview and they knew him and his company well enough that they didn’t doubt the claims of protection and self defense.

They also had video evidence, since Ronan’s business was across the street from where the mugging attempt had happened and had cameras in several areas that caught the whole thing.

After assigning another pack member to send the footage to the police, he excused himself and returned to the adorable kitsune’s side.

“I’m Ronan, by the way, alpha to the Moonfall pack.”

“Harlem,” the little kitsune replied with a smile. “Thank you for getting my bag back, Ronan. It was a gift from my parents and… It’s really important to me.”

With a careful hand on the smaller man’s elbow, Ronan guided him away from the side of the busy street, putting himself between Harlem and any potential danger.

He wanted to carry the man back to his home, to wrap him up in a blanket and keep him safe, but he held himself back, satisfying those urges with little protective gestures instead.

“I’m glad I was there to help,” Ronan replied. “Do you pass by this way often?”

Pursing his lips, Harlem nodded. “A few times a week. I’ve been taking some classes at the local college, trying to figure out what I want to do with my life.” He shrugged, nose wrinkled adorably. “Does that sound lame?”

“No,” Ronan answered automatically. “It sounds smart. Not many people are born into the roles they hope for. It’s better to explore a little. You never know what you might discover along the way.”