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My fingers tingled at the idea of stroking her soft skin. Would my touch send shivers up her arm? Would touching her make my palms sweat? My cock reacted to the images in my mind, and my pants started to get a little snug. This situation was going to get embarrassing if I didn’t tamp down the desire to take control.
If she touched me right now, here in the tavern, I would implode. Possibly. Probably. Very fucking likely.
She took a couple of quick sips as she scanned the room, not avoiding my gaze but not focusing on me, either. She obviously still had her guard up. The martini might have lessened her anxiety by the smallest of increments, but she was still on high alert. Nobody here was a threat to us, but if she interpreted something as an attack or lost control, it could cause me a major headache.
I’d seen her in the throes of panic, the way she had flinched and grabbed her head, her gaze darting to and fro. She’d been so alert yet so spaced out. She had clearly been struggling with something, and although the sight was something I had seen before, I couldn’t help her.
Unbidden, memories of my Aunt Lucille in a similar manic state flashed to the forefront of my mind. When my Uncle Vincent disappeared, she’d taken it badly. They’d had such a unique relationship that she’d cut herself away from the pack, becoming more feral until I barely recognized the loving woman I’d known throughout my boyhood.
I hadn’t been able to help my aunt. But maybe I could help this woman…
Worry flooded me, but I hesitated to mention the woman’s feral behavior to her. She was, after all, a stranger. For all I knew, she could be battling something else. But with her appearance and the loneliness permeating her scent, I had a strong suspicion of what I was witnessing. She was on the verge of becoming feral.
When a wolf was without the companionship of other wolves, they were in danger of going rogue. Without balance, the wolf took over, similar to a human in a manic period but more dangerous. Essentially, the wolf became a wild animal with no conscience—dangerous for her, and dangerous to our very existence. It only strengthened my desire to help her.
I sipped at my whiskey and studied her features. She was a beauty with her dark, penetrating eyes and shoulder-length wavy hair that framed her delicate features. Her petite size made her appear as fragile as a debutante, but her eyes told a different story. I’d never demean her by labeling her a damsel in distress. There was an air of resilience around her, though her eyes were world-weary. It was obvious she’d witnessed too much in her short life. She couldn’t have been more than twenty-five, and she shouldn’t have been so demoralized.
My heart ached for that, my wolf whimpering at her clear distress. She should be running free and howling at the moon with a pack of friends. Not holding her sanity together in a tavern in a town she had probably never even heard of until today.
I put my glass down and turned it around a few times before I asked, “What’s your name? What brings you to our humble Blackwood Creek?”
As if I’d pushed a magic button, she sat up taller, narrowing those glassy indigo eyes at me. Her instant defensiveness and wariness revealed too much of her already vulnerable state.
She was a prime example of shifters from broken and scattered packs. It angered me that so many of them struck off on their own and ended up getting hurt or worse without the protection of a community of a pack. It was not how our species was meant to live. Out there on her own, she would only find trouble for herself and others. What if another rogue wolf spotted her? A rogue so close to losing it himself, the hint of madness in her scent would make him feral, make him lose control. She was too small to be much of a match.
My grip on my glass was so tight, it almost cracked. I let go of it and flexed my hand. I had learned at a young age what it took to maintain control, to put on a mask and calm myself before I lost myself. Sometimes, being an alpha meant I had to hide what I was thinking if I wanted to lead effectively and do right by my pack. Alphas had a lot to defend and protect. It wouldn’t do the pack justice if our enemies could read what we were thinking.
“Sorry, I don’t mean to be so nosy. Hazard of the trade, I’m afraid.” I settled back against the warm leather backrest and stayed in a relaxed position to ease her discomfort. “I’m Mayor Ridge Blackwood, and I always take it upon myself to chat with passersby and travelers. It helps me get an idea for bringing more business and tourism into the area.”
While that was true, it wasn’t the reason I’d approached her. I paused to savor another sip of whiskey and laughed. “I’m only in this booth bothering you because I’m a heartless entrepreneur.”
Yeah, let’s go with that. Smooth. Believable.Total bullshit.
The lady looked at me hard, then grinned. We both knew my words were a lie, but at least it brought out her stunning smile, which quickened my heart a little too much.
“Well, you can jot down my name as Jane Doe for your records, and I’m only here to take in the views. I found them…” She paused and looked me up and down again. “Pleasing.”
She winked at me as she finished off her martini. Her eyes soaked me in, desire burning in them.
I swallowed hard. My cock twitched and strained against the zipper of my pants. Despite my surprise at her reply, I kept my face neutral. I’d have thought she’d be more cautious and closed off.
What surprised me more was my wolf’s interest in her. He was pleased with her attention. He puffed up and yipped his appreciation. If I shifted now, he’d have pranced around, showing off his coat and teeth. We shared a need to impress her, which I’d never experienced before.
I was a little out of my element and wondered what I should do. I had goals and changes I needed to achieve in the shifter world, which left me with little else to pursue.
Deep down, I wondered when—if—I would meet my fated mate. Very few wolves were granted that gift, but it held me back from settling for just any relationship. I’d seen what it meant to have a fated mate with my aunt and uncle, and what I vaguely remembered of my parents. Their relationships had evoked true love and magic.
Still, I’d resigned myself to the fact that I’d probably never come across her. A sliver of hope still resided inside me, though, because that’d be the most cherished gift this life could ever give me.
I wanted to honor that, but it didn’t mean I couldn’t have a good night from time to time. I mean, I wasn’t marrying the women.
Jane Doe’s fingers danced over the rim of the martini glass. The tiny pink tip of her tongue darted out to lick her upper lip before she sucked her soft, plump bottom lip into her mouth, worrying it with her teeth. Those lips could take me to so many places in my imagination. I was already speculating on several fun and creative ideas to play around with later.
What was some harmless flirting, even if it turned out not to be so harmless and led to something more? I worked hard and rarely got the opportunity to have some fun, especially lately, with the climate of the wolves and hunters causing problems. I could use some downtime with a beautiful woman, a little laughter and flirty banter. Even if it didn’t go any further than playful fun in a booth at the bar, it’d still be a highlight in a long series of stressful and lonely nights. And maybe it would help her let her guard down a bit so she could start to heal, even just a little.
Why not escape into this beauty for a couple of hours? She could help me avoid the Greenthornes and several other of the town’s most demanding, prominent families. They could take care of themselves for a time.
I leaned forward, gazing into her eyes. “Well, if you want to take in more sights, there are a lot of places nearby that are great for a long, good run.” I waggled my eyebrows at her.
