Furred Lines: A Fated Mate Romance Page 3

  “Interesting.”

  Aiden looked up as Stephen pushed through between two of his men, looking around at the mess.

  “You two are pathetic,” he snarled at the pair to whom Aiden had submitted. “You allow Mack’s reject to beat you? What the fuck does that say about you?”

  Only the one shifter could reply, and all he did was hang his head in shame.

  “Get the fuck out of here, and take your incompetent friend with you. Wake him up and then the two of you clean up this mess.”

  The shifter nodded and hauled the unconscious body of his comrade over his shoulder before hustling back into the warehouse.

  “Good job, Rokk,” he said, nodding to the shifter that had beaten Aiden.

  Rokk? What the fuck kind of name is that?

  “He went down pretty easily,” Rokk said in a thunderous baritone. “He should have had more fight in him.”

  Aiden forced himself not to tense at the accusation.

  “You,” Stephen said with a gesture at him. “Human form.”

  Aiden obeyed the command. Cold concrete pressed against his bared skin. He lamented the loss of his clothing. Usually in a pack challenge time was given to remove clothing. With how often fights broke out, things would get expensive if they didn’t take such care. Again, another lesson to be learned about Stephen’s pack.

  “Rokk says you submitted like a bitch, instead of fighting till the end.”

  Although there was no question attached to the words, it was obvious what he wanted to hear.

  “Can’t breathe,” he rasped, both happy and pained that he didn’t have to fake the injury. It gave him a great cover story, but it hurt like hell. “Broke a rib. Or three. Not sure.” The grimace on his face from speaking was entirely genuine too. He’d hit the metal post at the perfect angle to do the most damage.

  “On your feet,” Stephen commanded.

  Aiden nodded and slowly got to his feet, though he was forced to lean against the rack to ease the pain. Fuck, it hurt. He glared at Rokk, his eyes promising a rematch. The hulking brute just smiled. The answer was clear: Bring it.

  “Well, I hadn’t expected such pathetic performances from my men. But, it seems you’ve got a bit of fight in you. We can use you, I suppose.” The already angry look on his face condensed into a fury the likes of which Aiden wasn’t sure he’d ever seen before. “But make no mistake, reject. You are here only because Mack is forcing me. I don’t like being used, and I don’t like you. You fuck up, and I will personally tear your head from your body and mail it back to Mack. Got it?”

  He forced himself to swallow his natural reply, which would have been an insult ending with a description of his sexual habits toward family members. Instead, Aiden nodded. Once.

  Stephen seemed like he was about to fly at him right then and there, but he didn’t.

  “Start unloading that truck,” the Alpha said, pointing at a big rig that was just pulling up to their loading dock. “You have thirty minutes.”

  Aiden swallowed, wincing at the pain. He wouldn’t even be fully healed in thirty minutes. How was he supposed to unload an entire truck in that time? He didn’t even know what they wanted him to do with it.

  Sink or swim, I guess.

  He almost laughed. If they thought saddling him with some sort of nigh-impossible task was going to get him to back down, then they were sorely, sorely mistaken. Aiden would unload that truck with time to spare, and he would damn well do it right.

  Walking up to the bay, he guided the driver in until the rubber bumpers around the opening started to compress. Almost immediately the engine died and the cab door opened. Aiden more heard this than anything, as he was already bending over to open the trailer doors. A burst of pain washed over him and he fell into the door, using it to support his weight while he regained himself.

  “Whoa there, fella. You all right?”

  Aiden nodded to the unseen voice.

  A large hand reached down and around his bicep, hauling him to his feet.

  “Ow,” he gasped, falling back into the door at the unexpected motion, agony pounding his brain.

  “What’s wrong with you?”

  “Ribs,” he wheezed. “Broken.”

  “That’ll hurt,” the voice—the driver, he assumed—said in an agreeable tone.

  “Just a bit.”

  “Don’t recognize you. Must be new here.”

  Aiden nodded, finally opening his eyes. At which point he was forced to look up. Way up.

  “Holy shit.” The words came out in the same gaspy, pained tone. “You’re a werebear.”

  The big jovial driver grinned from ear to ear. On any other person it would have been the look of a simpleton. On him though, it just fit his nature. The big friendly giant.

  “Guilty as charged.”

  “Didn’t know Stephen had any werebears working for him.”

  The look vanished, replaced by one of stern disproval. “I don’t work for Stephen. I am a driver. This is just one of the places I serve.”

  Aiden nodded quickly. Few people who knew of his world wanted to tangle with a werewolf. Well, in his world, nobody wanted to mess with a werebear. Period. The man was easily three hundred pounds or more of muscle slathered over a frame that had to be roughly seven feet tall at a minimum.

  “Well then, I guess we can get along.” He stuck out his hand. “Aiden.”

  “Joe. I take it you just ran the initiation gauntlet with them?”

  He nodded. “Yeah. One of them hit me like a hammer. That hurt, but it knocked me into a metal pole.” Aiden shook his head ruefully. “All my strength, and yet metal is still stronger. It’s not fair, I say.”

  Joe the werebear laughed, a deep booming sound. “Life ain’t fair kid, but if you’ve got a good sense of humor about yourself, you’ll do all right.”

  Aiden smiled. “Well, good thing I don’t, because I’ve got precisely”—he glanced at the clock on the wall behind him—“twenty-four minutes to unload your trailer, or the boss is gonna put me through his personal meat grinder.”

  “That’s an oddly specific amount of time.” Joe gently pushed Aiden out of the way and let the cargo door of his trailer swing up into the roof, exposing the interior. “But I think you got lucky today.”

  Aiden grinned. The interior of the truck was half-empty, and, unless he missed his guess, everything inside was already on pallets. Stephen hadn’t provided him with a pallet jack, but there was a well-worn red one lying on its side strapped to one wall.

  “Mind if I borrow that to unload?” he asked.

  “Not at all,” Joe replied. “Help yourself.”

  He got to work, unloading the pallets into four even rows of three. With more than five minutes to go he finished unloading, had returned the mover, and strapped it back down and pulled the trailer door closed. His movements were coming easier now as his body healed from the injury.

  “Do I have to sign anything?” he asked as Joe returned from the cab.

  The werebear smiled at him and produced a clipboard, showing him where to initial, sign and date. “And you’re done.”

  “Thanks, Joe. Appreciate it a lot.”

  “My pleasure. Stephen always was a bit crotchety for me,” he whispered with a twinkle in his eye.

  The two parted, and the truck pulled out of the loading dock. Aiden watched him go for a moment before he went to find Stephen, a tiny smile on his lips. He’d gotten damn lucky, and he knew it.

  “Truck’s unloaded,” he told Stephen as the Alpha emerged from an office on the right-hand side of the facility. “Where do the pallets go?”

  Stephen’s eyes widened as he looked at the neat rows of goods, anger burning brightly. Aiden watched as he looked at the big white boxes more carefully. Then he snapped his fingers at one of his subordinates.

  “Flint, put these away.”

  The other shifter took one look at the shrink-wrapped pallets, nodded, and got to work.

  “Go help Rokk,” Stephen
said, pointing to where the wolf Aiden had submitted to was sorting packages.

  Aiden nodded and moved off, keeping all trace of smug satisfaction from his face. He could gloat later. For now, he needed to establish his place, and learn more of what was going on. That meant not stirring up trouble.

  It would be tough, but then again, one thing he’d never been opposed to was a challenge. This was a different sort of one than he was used to, and he wasn’t entirely sure he could handle it. But what the hell, he could try.

  And maybe in the process learn Ms. Pike’s first name.

  Four

  Willow

  “I can’t believe he’s keeping him around.”

  She carefully remained hunched over her desk, pen scribbling across her notebook. To all outward appearances she was focused on her work, effectively invisible to the chauvinist assholes that her father seemed to prefer.

  He’s not like that himself, so why does he insist on keeping these loathsome, antiquated, and reviled pigs around?

  Long ago Willow had taught herself to stop asking question. It was just easier for her sanity that way. There was a lot she’d learned about werewolves growing up around them. But there was just as much that was coded into their DNA that she just couldn’t understand. Like their constant need to fight each other to prove who was stronger. Because that was something that could change in three days’ time. Idiots.

  But from what she could hear two of the more senior members of her father’s pack discussing, it sounded like Aiden had actually made enough of an impression to spare his life. Neither Orren, the pack number three, nor Langdon, his immediate junior, sounded happy about it, but she knew that neither of them would question her father once he’d made a decision.

  They had come out from the back and were headed toward the lunchroom, talking in hushed whispers she was sure they didn’t intend her to hear. But as a consequence of growing up around werewolves, her hearing was more acute than many would suspect. After all, when they spent years trying to talk quietly so that she wouldn’t hear, Willow had been forced to grow very adept at understanding even the faintest murmurs.

  Eventually the pair moved out of her hearing range, but she’d heard enough to allow a quick smile, before clamping down on her emotions. Willow wasn’t entirely sure why she was so happy that this newcomer had survived, but the elation wasn’t fake. She was genuinely happy.

  Odd.

  The chime went off to indicate the front door had opened. Sparked from her daydream by the harsh sound, Willow glanced at the clock. It was almost noon.

  “Hey Rachelle!” she said, getting up and going to greet the mail carrier. “Anything besides junk mail today?”

  “Nothing fun, but I think there might be an envelope or two in there.”

  The pair giggled as Willow grabbed the thick stack of mail that was always there. Her father refused to get with the times and do things such as electronic billing. Which meant she was forced to deal with piles upon piles of paper ones. Life was just fantastic sometimes.

  “See you tomorrow,” Rachelle said as she departed with a wave.

  “I hope not!” Willow called back in their familiar routine. The door chimed again while she went back to her desk.

  “Bill, bill, bill, junk mail, bill. Credit card offer. Bill.”

  The offer went straight into the shredder before her father saw it. He also didn’t grasp the concept of credit cards, and thought of them as free money. Her father, for being so smart, was rather naïve when it came to money.

  “Huh.” Willow stopped sorting mail. There was an envelope, hand-written and addressed to her father. That was odd. He almost never got personalized mail at work. It all went to the pack house. He refused to conduct pack business while at work, and vice versa. He was very strict about his employees enjoying personal time and not having to worry about their jobs while off the clock, and he lived by that formula as well.

  There was no return address. The inside didn’t feel like it was stuffed with cash, which had happened a time or two. She could feel the card, but there didn’t seem to be a whole lot else. Curiouser and curiouser. Maybe a check? It wasn’t his birthday or any other occasion, and to her knowledge, he didn’t have anybody who would send him such things in the first place.

  Willow could just leave it in his mail slot and let him grab it the next time he came through reception. Or , she thought, getting up from her chair, I could go take it to him. A walk through the back was just what was called for she decided. And if I happen to catch a look at the new guy, who can blame me for being curious, right?

  Decision made, she snatched up the letter and started walking into the back. The big doors opened under her push. They were heavy to keep the sound out, but her father insisted on ensuring everything was well oiled and maintained, so they swung open easily. The sound of the working floor washed over her, but after having been there for so many years, she was used to it.

  Her father’s office was off to the right, giving him a full view of the sorting and storage area. Her heels clicked off the floor, announcing her presence before she could knock on the open door.

  “Willow? What brings you back here?” He set his pen down and gave her his attention.

  “You got a letter in the mail today. It doesn’t have a return address and it’s handwritten.” She tossed him a wink. “Too skinny to be a bribe unless it’s a check, so don’t get your hopes up.”

  Stephen smiled at her as she held out the baby-blue envelope to him. “It’s not my birthday, is it?”

  “The only person who gets you a card for that is me, Father, and I send it to the house, remember?”

  “Of course.”

  She shook her head. He didn’t remember. His mind was all work and nothing else. “No, it’s not your birthday or any other special occasion that I’m aware of. Which is why I figured I would bring it to you instead of just leave it for you to grab.”

  While she was talking, Willow had turned so she could lean against the inside of the door frame. Arms crossed, trying to affect an air of disinterest, she surveyed the floor. The new guy, Aiden, stood out like a sore thumb. Not because he was doing something wrong, though she could tell from his movements he wasn’t entirely sure of everything he was doing. No, it was the way he simply captured her attention without doing a single thing. As far as she could tell, he hadn’t even noticed her yet, but somehow she was drawn to him like a magnet.

  His face turned in her direction and she saw his lips quirk. He had seen her! Not only that, he’d noticed she was staring at him. And if he could notice, so could others. Willow quickly focused her attention back on her father.

  “So, who is it?” she asked as he pulled out the folded paper from within.

  But before her father could reply she found her eyes pulling her head around to look for Aiden once more. Damn, what was it with that man that made her unable to look away while he was around? She saw him lift a box, and after setting it down atop a conveyor, hold his side briefly. An injury from that morning, perhaps? Or had he just hurt himself then and there? Did he need help? First aid? Before Willow realized it she was ready to go over to him and see what she could do to help.

  “It’s from the drivers’ union.”

  She looked back at her father, who was frowning at the paper.

  “What do they want? And why a hand-signed hard?”

  “I guess they’re appreciative of the boost in business we’ve been giving them the past six months,” he said carefully, folding the paper up and stuffing it back into the envelope.

  Willow frowned, but didn’t say anything. As the main receptionist and administrator she knew all of the goings-on, and she’d noticed the uptick in shipments for the past half year. It wasn’t a growth spurt she’d been expecting based on their normal annual growth, but nobody was complaining about it on either side. Sometimes these things just happened.

  “Well, that’s nice of them. You should write back and ask them to send Joe more often. I
like him.”

  Her father laughed and tucked the envelope into a drawer. “You just missed him actually.”

  “What? Why did nobody tell me!” she complained, stomping her foot like a petulant child.

  Joe was her favorite werebear driver. He was one of the senior drivers for Gear-Shift Cartage, the company that they outsourced the actual deliveries to, and just a general all-around great person. He was a redneck shifter, which sounded like it should have been at odds with itself, but in reality it wasn’t. Willow just loved it when he came by.

  “He was here and gone. His truck was unloaded and he pulled out.”

  Willow knew her father wasn’t nearly as fond of Joe as she was. Although all of the drivers were shifters, many of them were werebears and other types who preferred a solitary living, for whatever reason, he’d never come around on Joe. Which was a shame.

  “So rude,” she said lightly. “I’m going to have to give him grief about that when he comes back.”

  “Indeed.”

  “So, you kept him?” she asked, pointing to where Aiden was moving up to a loading dock with a pallet jack as one of the others guided another truck in. “I hadn’t expected to see him around again.”

  It was a struggle to keep her voice from betraying her interest in him, especially from her father, who probably knew her vocal mannerisms better than anyone else. The distant, annoyed expression that replaced the neutral look on his face made it fairly clear she’d succeeded. If he was irritated, his mind would be elsewhere, and not on what she was saying.

  “Yeah. He bested Patrice and Deckard in quick order. Rokk beat him of course, but he’s got some potential. If he hates Mack as much as I do, then maybe I can bring him around. I could do with an extra hand here.”