Page 47 of Cursed Wolf

There was only a moment of hesitation before she smiled with enough warmth to melt even his icy demeanor. “Emmaline,” she returned, clasping his hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“You as well. That’s a pretty name.”

My wolf was growling, pawing under my skin at the compliment, even though the human side of me knew he didn’t intend to be flirtatious.

“Thank you. You have stunning eyes, by the way. I hope you don’t mind me saying.”

Orson grinned, his arctic blues shining like diamonds, and then he winked at her. “Thanks.”

My growl was audible this time, and my packmate only snickered at my possessiveness. Across the bar, his mate, Shiloh, rolled her eyes.

“Be careful,” she told Emmaline. “Too many compliments about his eyes will go to his head.”

“I only did that to mess with Tryn.” Orson turned toward me, one arm relaxing on the back of his barstool. “We never get to see Mr. Easy Going all wound up.”

“I’m not wound up.” Even as I said that, my hand fell to Emmaline’s shoulder. Everyone in the room had already picked up my scent on her, but it wasn’t enough. I wanted them to see that she was mine.

Then you should bite her, my wolf said irritably.

“What can I get you?” Shiloh’s friendly tone eased the tension in my shoulders. “Tryn mentioned you liked Irish reds. I don’t have one on tap at the moment, but I have a red IPA that’s excellent.”

“Oh, sure.” Emmaline nodded. “I’ll have that.”

“Two,” I added. “Thanks, Shiloh.”

“You got it. We’ve got flatbreads coming out of the oven shortly if you’re hungry. Love, will you go check on them?”

“Yes.” Orson leaned across the bar and kissed her quickly before heading around and through the back door.

Emmaline and I had just received our beers when Derric walked up. The Alpha kept a sizable distance from her, probably so as not to appear threatening. Normal humans could still feel the distinct air of dominance from an Alpha werewolf, even if they didn’t know exactly what it was.

“Nice to meet you, Emmaline. I’m Derric.” He gave a little wave since he wasn’t close enough to shake hands. “Hope you don’t mind all the curious glances. We don’t get many visitors in Vargmore.”

She smiled at him. “Oh, it’s alright.” I could scent her nervousness, but she was putting on a brave face and it made me swell with pride. “So, Derric. You’re the minor celebrity, right?”

The Alpha slid a glance at me, a smirk popping at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, that’s right.”

Emmaline nodded and some of her nerves disappeared. She’d noticed I hadn’t lied about him. “You’re the important person he has to protect,” she went on.

“Sort of.” Derric didn’t miss a beat. “I’m the leader of our little community here. So this pack of animals, including your man,” he swept his arm to indicate everyone in the tavern, “is all about protecting our home, Vargmore. And I guess I’m an extension of that.” He flashed a grin. “Although I like to think I can handle myself.”

Most of his scars were hidden underneath his hair or clothing, but they were testaments to Derric’s strength as an Alpha. He’d remained our pack leader because everyone who challenged him for it had either died or limped away from the battle with their tail between their legs.

“And what is Vargmore, exactly?” Emmaline looked at me and then back at Derric. “I get the sense that it’s hidden and somewhat cut off from the rest of the world, but can I ask why?”

“That’s a great question.” Derric focused a hard look at me, a clear sign that I should be the one to answer.

I placed a light hand on Emmaline’s back. “Let’s go out back where I can show you.”

She gave me a puzzled glance but nodded and allowed me to lead her out a side door. The side and back area of the tavern was clear of any trees, with gravel covering the ground. This area was where Shiloh parked her car, accepted deliveries for the tavern, and where the spiral staircase led up to her apartment on the second level. I guided Emmaline to a small table with two chairs set up under an awning, facing the woods at the edge of the clearing.

“What did you want to show me—oh my God!”

Right on cue, two wolves emerged from the treeline, bounding straight for us. Their mouths were open in toothy smiles, tongues lolling out. They ran, not as predators hunting prey, but as friends coming to greet us.

“It’s okay,” I told Emmaline with a hand on her arm. “They’re not aggressive.”

Fallon, the bigger of the two wolves, stopped a few yards away and sat on his haunches. He let out a short howl, tail thumping on the ground. His mate, Aria, came closer, approaching Emmaline with bright, curious eyes.

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