Furred Lines: A Fated Mate Romance Page 2

  “I’ll do it,” he snarled, caving to the stereotype at last. “I’ll find out whatever he’s up to.”

  Mack snorted. “You’ll die, boy, but I appreciate your candor. Stephen harbors idiots even less than I do. He’s going to be angry enough I’m forcing you on him. I give you less than twenty-four hours before your body turns up.”

  Aiden shivered at the cold pronouncement of his Alpha’s lack of faith in him.

  No. His former Alpha. Aiden had a new leader now.

  Stephen.

  Two

  Willow

  “Hi, Father!”

  She waved cheerfully at the middle-aged looking man waiting by her desk.

  Stephen Pike looked up at her and smiled. Willow returned the look as she walked up to him and gave him a big hug. He grumbled and said something about showing emotions in public, but she knew he didn’t actually care. Willow was his only child and he’d spoiled her rotten. Now, at thirty-five years of age, he was paying the price.

  “Hello, Daughter. How are you today?”

  Willow shrugged. “Honestly, I slept terribly last night. Couldn’t get comfortable. So I’m exhausted. What about you?” She could sense he had something to tell her, and whatever it was, it had him irritated beyond his normal levels. “Bad news?”

  He shrugged. “Annoying, really. Not the end of the world, just one more thing I need to take care of that that prick Mack can’t handle on his own.”

  Willow winced. She knew her father’s hatred for Mack, the regional Alpha. There were four packs in the city, and Mack called the shots for all of them, including what part of the city they could claim as their own. Letting four packs intermingle was a bad idea. Divvying up the city into turf and ordering each pack to stay on their own was a much better way to handle things.

  “I see. What has he done this time?” She dropped her shoulder bag on her desk and pressed the button to wake her computer up.

  “He saddled me with some reject from his own pack.”

  Willow nodded. Yep, that would certainly make him pissed. She wondered just who the newcomer was, and why he was being sent here.

  One of the others poked his head out through the double doors that led into the back. “Steph, we need you back here.”

  Her father nodded and waved the other man off. “I’ll be right there.”

  The doors closed just as swiftly as they’d opened.

  “Anyway, he’s going to be here in a bit, and when he gets here, I want you to just show him right into the back. We’ll handle it from there.”

  Willow just nodded. She knew what he meant by that, figuring it was unlikely she would be seeing the newcomer tomorrow morning. Or ever. Her father had a rather permanent way of dealing with things like this. Poor guy.

  “I’ll do just that, Poppa,” she said, leaning in to give him a peck on the cheek. “But it’s only Monday. Try not to start off the week like that, okay? It can’t be good for your stress levels.”

  “Tell that to Mack then for saddling me with him.” But there was a twinkle in his eye.

  “Go deal with whatever problem those idiots have created,” she said, pointing at the double doors.

  “Thank you, Daughter.” With that he was gone, leaving her alone.

  Willow nodded and relaxed into her seat, pulling up her email. Just because she was the boss’s daughter didn’t mean she didn’t have an actual job. The shipping company he owned was actually rather more successful than any of them had originally anticipated, and she usually had a good amount of work to get through on any given day. After a weekend, it would be even busier, especially with the holiday season getting close.

  With a sigh she opened the first email, read it, and started to type out a reply. Before she was even halfway done with it, the front door opened and footsteps made their way directly to her desk. As they never received visitors of any kind, conducting all business via email or telephone, Willow knew this had to be the newcomer. Not interested in losing her train of thought, she continued to type out the email while he came to a halt in front of her desk. When she was finished she hit Send and then directed her attention to the person waiting patiently for her to acknowledge him.

  The first thing she noticed was his posture. He didn’t come off as some sort of pathetic slob. His clothes—while not formal attire, because that wasn’t necessary—were clean, crisp, and looked freshly laundered. He stood up straight, without a slouch or lean. She noted his dark work boots and fitted pants. They were blue, but not jeans, instead looking to be a tougher fabric that might put up with the strains of the shipping facility better. All in all, he looked ready to work.

  She frowned to herself. This wasn’t at all what her father had told her to expect. She’d expected an unshaven face, rumpled clothing, and a generally slovenly attitude. Instead the person in front of her was looking better than half the other guys who worked in the back. He exuded confidence, though something about his military-straight posture belied a lack of calm. So he was nervous. Willow had begun to think that maybe this was in fact someone else, but now she was positive it was him.

  “May I help you?” she asked, finally lifting her gaze to look him in the eyes.

  A set of deep brown orbs stared back at her. His eyes were set deep into his face under a powerful brow. On many she would have considered it to be a rather unintelligent look. But the eyes that were fixated upon her spoke of a highly intelligent persona, despite the muscles that were part and parcel of being a shifter.

  “I was told to report here,” he said crisply, his voice deep and melodious without sounding forced.

  “Your name?”

  Willow was working hard to try and remain aloof. Despite her first impression of him, she knew why he was here, and what was awaiting him inside. It was unlikely that he was going to be around for very long, so no sense in getting friendly. She was normally very good at that. Most of the newcomers weren’t worth the time it took her to get their names and send them on back.

  This one was different. His eyes had captured hers from the start, and they had yet to let go. She could feel her pulse quickening slightly for no discernable reason. He hadn’t done anything, so why was she getting like this? This man was supposed to be the nervous one, unsure of what he would see back there, of what awaited him. Yet he didn’t seem the slightest bit concerned. If anything, she realized suddenly, he was looking forward to it!

  Part of her wondered if perhaps this one was going to stick around. Either way, the next little bit was going to be interesting.

  “Aiden Kristoff Lee, ma’am,” he said formally. “I’m here on orders from Mack Danzig. I’m to report to Stephen.”

  “Well, Mr. Lee—”

  “Just Aiden, please. I’m not a mister.” He spoke gently, his request soft-spoken, and yet filled with an understanding that he would just be obeyed.

  Not very likely.

  “Through those doors, Mr. Lee,” she said, emphasizing the title ever so slightly, allowing frost to color her tone.

  Who did he think he was? Her father was an Alpha, and one of the more respected ones out there. Well, okay, feared, but it was close enough. Did this newcomer think that just because she was human she was going to obey every subtle command a shifter tried to give? Ridiculous!

  Willow knew every werewolf had some bit of Alpha in him: the ability to utter commands and have them obeyed, to simply expect obedience with little more than a look or a gesture. It wasn’t something necessarily tangible, but if you were around it long enough, it became obvious. But it took a strong Alpha to be able to control minds that were aware of it. Most humans weren’t, and thus they were easily malleable.

  Willow wasn’t most humans. His attempt didn’t work on her, and it certainly wouldn’t have worked on another werewolf. She was almost insulted by it.

  “Those ones?” he asked, pointing to her left. “Or those ones?”

  Angry at herself for not pointing, becoming distracted by looking at his rather attractive
face, she jabbed a finger to her right. “Those ones.”

  Aiden smiled at her. “Thank you.”

  She was caught off guard by the brilliance of his smile. It was bright enough to nearly rock her back in her seat. The genuine happiness she saw cased within it was unusual and most unexpected. Who the hell was this guy? Despite all of her best efforts, Willow found herself actually rooting for him, though she knew he didn’t stand a chance.

  Her father’s men were vicious, brutal beasts. This guy seemed too nice. Still… , she thought as he walked toward the doors.

  “Stay alert, Aiden. The shipping floor is a lot more dangerous than you might expect.”

  The shifter came to a slow halt, his hand outstretched and placed firmly on one of the doors. He looked back over his shoulder, his cute, oblong face covered in stubble that moved as he smiled at her again. The motion played up his wide jaw and angular cheekbones even more.

  Willow kept looking, and realized that she was staring. Looking down, she busied herself with something on her desk, desperately hoping that he would just go away.

  “Thank you, Ms. Pike,” he said gently. “I’ll make sure I keep my eyes open.”

  She heard him push open the doors. For a moment she was blasted with noise from the various machines running in the back as he moved through the second set of doors before the first closed. But then they all returned to normal and the noise died away.

  It took several minutes before she was able to really focus on her next task, her mind far too distracted for her own comfort.

  Just who the hell was that? And how the hell does he know who I am?

  Three

  Aiden

  He stopped just inside the second set of doors, letting his senses adjust to the assault of noise. It wasn’t all that loud compared to say, a concert, but it was definitely a busy place. Conveyor belts ran here and there, zipping packages along to their destination bins. Elsewhere, larger packages were neatly arranged on pushcarts.

  The concrete floor, while discolored from a lot of use, was smooth and free of debris. None of the machines seemed to squeak, and the corners were mostly devoid of dust. Stephen ran a tight ship. Not quite what he’d expected from the other man based on what he’d heard of him. Aiden had never met Stephen before, but he’d seen him at several council meetings. Mostly interrupting Mack to say disparaging things, but occasionally preaching a freer, less restrictive lifestyle when it came to putting up with humans.

  His eyes roamed over the sorting and loading facility. He could see several people moving about, but their backs were to him. That was odd, but when he focused on one of them, Aiden smiled as the body language became clear. They weren’t oblivious to his presence; they were simply ignoring him. Acting as if he didn’t matter. He immediately filed them away as some of the more dangerous members of Stephen’s pack.

  Every pack had a hierarchy. A ranking system. It was determined by sheer combat capability. Human or shifter, it rarely mattered how it was settled, as long as no cheap shots were taken. Fights happened all the time, and the lower ranks were usually a constant source of challenges and scraps. It was why most packs usually topped out at ten or twelve members. Any more than that, and it just became too chaotic.

  According to Mack, Stephen’s pack was only seven in size. The smallest one in the city. Which likely meant the most vicious. With fewer ranks to be had, and fewer opportunities to move up, the wolves here would be fighters, one and all. Aiden would have to watch his back, just like Willow had suggested.

  He smiled at the way she’d jerked when he’d said her name. There was no nametag on the desk, and he hadn’t known who she was going in. But there were several papers on the desk, all addressed to her with her last name on them. It had been child’s play for him to read them upside down.

  He thought back to the cute honey blonde. She was older. Not old, but in her mid-thirties. Aiden wasn’t an excellent judge of human aging, but he felt confident about that one. As he’d grown older and entered his forties, he’d become exponentially more aware of the fact that he was no longer interested in the young college co-eds or recent grads. Aiden preferred a woman who was confident in herself, and, to put it bluntly, had her shit figured out as much as someone could be expected to.

  A figure appeared around the end of the racks on his right. Short, wiry, and with a tan to his skin that suggested it was natural, not a result of excessive sunlight. He was wearing gray overalls, a white T-shirt, and, oddly enough, orange boots.

  “Cute rainboots,” Aiden said.

  His jab earned him a snarl.

  “I see,” he said calmly, well aware of the way tensions had just ratcheted up in the building. “Well, I’m here to report to Stephen. I know you aren’t him, so could you be a dear and just run along and get him?”

  He punctuated his statement with a shooing motion of his hands, effectively dismissing the shifter. Which he already had. Aiden knew his abilities, his strengths, and his speed. His animal instincts had already sized up the smaller fellow—small being a relative term, he was probably still six feet in height, but that was short compared to Aiden—and judged him as a non-threat.

  “Who the fuck are you?”

  “Look, Snarly-and-Tanned, I’d really rather not do this.”

  That wasn’t true. Aiden loved a good fight. It was part of his problem. He would fight anyone and everyone who sneezed at him wrong. Which was probably why he had few, if any, friends. None of them could put up with him and his temper issues.

  Aiden wasn’t an idiot either. Just because he was prone to violence at the drop of a hair, didn’t mean he was a meathead. He was well aware of his issues, but he’d yet to find someone who could keep him in check. Even Mack was careful when and where he challenged Aiden, because he knew it wasn’t as clear cut a fight as he might wish.

  Aiden had all the Alpha he could need. He just had none of the control.

  “What did you just call me?” The shifter walked up to him.

  “Oh, come on,” he sighed. “That’s the best you’ve got, ass-muncher? Listen, needle-dick, why don’t you run on over to get Stephen, and then you can go back to the kiddie table, m’kay, pumpkin?” He reached up and tapped the shifter’s cheek twice softly.

  Just like that the fight was on. A right hook slashed at his face but Aiden was already swaying back out of reach. He reversed direction so swiftly his opponent wasn’t ready for it, smashing his head into the smaller man’s face. Aiden wasn’t particularly fond of that move, but it worked , because nobody expected it.

  The shifter reeled back, his nose pouring blood, tears filling his eyes. Grimacing through the pain that filled his own head, Aiden advanced, delivering a one-two-three combination, with the final being a wicked jab right to the already-broken nose. The shifter’s eyes rolled back into his head and he collapsed to the ground.

  Two more shifters appeared at the end of the stacks.

  “Ah, Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dumb,” he pronounced. Waving a finger back and forth between the two, Aiden frowned. “But which one is which? Do me a favor and help me out?”

  The one on his left came forward.

  “Ah, perfect. Tweedle-dee it is.”

  The man was also wearing gray overalls. It must be the work uniform he decided, wondering how the hell they’d come up with something so unflattering.

  Without a single word, the shifter facing him shivered for a split second and then suddenly a wolf burst forth from the tattered remnants of his clothing, shaking off the last of the rags as it snarled loudly in Aiden’s direction. By now he could see the other members of the pack had stopped what they were doing to watch.

  Aiden wanted nothing more than to go through them all, to see just where he truly ranked in this pack. But as he assumed his own wolf form, noting in the process that he outweighed the other animal by perhaps twenty pounds, he recalled the decision he’d come to earlier.

  If he was going to stand a chance at succeeding in this mission, he couldn�
��t afford to shake things up too much. The chain of command would have to be respected. Which meant he had to lose the fight. Aiden had never before thrown a challenge. Backing down just wasn’t in his blood. When he’d first come to that realization, he’d had a fit. It hadn’t been pretty at all.

  But he’d consoled himself with the fact that he’d also never been a spy before. And that being a spy meant pretending to be something you weren’t. Which meant that if Aiden was always a winner, as a spy he could pretend that he was a loser. It wasn’t a perfect solution, and for a bit there he’d forgotten all about it, his mind thinking of the easiest ways to eliminate the wolves as he worked his way up the ladder.

  The slate-gray wolf lunged at him, and Aiden met the challenge head-on, instead of trying to dodge it. Again, his unexpected actions caught his foe off guard. But the other wolf was wilier than he’d given him credit for, and he managed to slip out from between his snapping jaws just in time. There was a flash of pain and Aiden knew he was bleeding from his haunch.

  Anger erupted inside him, blowing his control to smithereens. He flew at the other wolf, throwing caution to the wind. He snapped and bit at the gray wolf as they went down. His anger fueled his strength, and it didn’t take long for him to get the other wolf to submit.

  TAKE THAT!

  The mental jubilation was cut short as pain slammed him to the ground. While he’d been celebrating, the other werewolf had strode up to him and hammered his body with a brutal fist.

  Aiden bounced once and slammed into a metal rack. Something gave way in his chest and breathing instantly became a challenge.

  His challenger had stripped out of his clothing and came at Aiden, but the pain had broken through his anger, and he immediately flattened himself to the floor, tilting his head to the side as he whimpered in submission, hating himself for it the entire time. The other wolf came to a halt, standing over Aiden. Its jaws closed around his neck and he whimpered again in the ritual to confirm the end of the challenge.

  It irked him terribly, and he kept his eyes glued shut so that the others wouldn’t see the anger burning in them at the cheap shot that had taken him out of the fight. It was entirely legal what had happened, but it wasn’t considered “fair.” In a challenge, after the newcomer had forced someone to submit, he was supposed to face off with the next ranked wolf before they engaged. That was the spirit of the rules. Here in Stephen’s pack though, it looked like they adhered to the letter of it, no more.