Page 1 of Off-Limits Mate

Chapter 1

Amara

“I’m sorry. You need to do what to the sewer line?”

I know that the contractor thinks I’m some kind of idiot as I stare at him, the words falling off of my lips like I’m drunk. I guess I did kind of slur them a little. I’m in shock. There’s no way he could have just described what I think he described.

He gives me one of those oh-you-poor-little-girl looks, and I straighten, folding my arms and glaring at him in response.

It’s one in the afternoon, sir. I’m not drunk, and I am not an idiot. I just have no idea what the hell you’re saying or why it needs to happen.

“Well, we managed to get the tree roots out of your sewer line, but the junction where it joins the main Oakwood town line has suffered some damage from the decreased flow and then the shift when we increased it.”

“Okay.”

He blinks at me. “Do you want your brother here for this conversation, miss?”

Oh, he can fuck right off with that. I resist the urge to pop wolf-sized teeth out of my mouth and snarl at him. He’s a human, and I’m pretty sure that the Alpha, Thorne, wouldn’t forgive me for scaring away the nearest plumbing specialist by shifting partially.

I take a deep breath, letting the wolf sink back down into my skin. “No. I do not want to wait for my brother. Please continue to explain to me what the hell you need to do.”

The plumber launches into a complicated explanation of systems and fluid dynamics. It’s not that I don’t understand what he’s saying. Or at least, that’s what I tell myself as the world swirls around me like the wreckage of my home. It’s that the whole thing just… sucks.

A truck rumbles loudly, the crunch of tires on rock echoing as I hear Nolan pull up the gravel road to my house. My brother has some kind of muffler system that makes his old green F-150 sound like it’s roaring everywhere he goes. I think he sounds like an insecure idiot. He thinks he sounds cool as hell.

Men.

The plumber looks visibly relieved to see Nolan get out of the truck. That, in turn, makes me even more pissed off, and by the time my brother lopes over to us, moving in long strides, I’m about five seconds from getting very wolfy with the ignorant human in front of me.

Nolan notices. He puts a hand on my shoulder and whispers beneath his breath, “Easy, kid. Don’t want to fish you out of the jail cells in the Alpha’s house.”

It’s so low, I know the human can’t hear, especially because he’s once again muttering about joints and flow and pinch points. But it does relax me, ever so slightly, and I nod.

Nolan claps me on the shoulder again and turns to the plumber. “What seems to be the problem now?”

The plumber takes a deep breath, then goes for it again. His explanation isn’t any different, but he’s much kinder as he tells Nolan what needs to be done and why I can’t park myself in there until it is. No running water. No bathroom. Giant, open pipelines here, in the yard, and in the bathrooms, so that he can make sure everything connects to the right spot. Nothing that would let me live in my own damn house again.

I miss the old plumber, Bill. He was nice. This new guy had to come the whole way from Silverthorne, and he’s clearly annoyed at having to deal with a brainless woman.

I try to pay attention, I really do. I don’t want to confirm his suspicions that I’m some kind of witless female, unable to handle the intricacies of how shit flows out of my house.

But alas, I’m also just a girl.

It doesn’t help that I’m kind of just slipping into little sister mode. Nolan’s older than me by four years, and while we share a traumatic bond of dead parents and hazel eyes, he’s more than just my brother. He raised me after my parents were killed by human trappers. Well. To the extent that a fourteen-year-old can raise a ten-year-old.

We had the pack. That was usually fine, and someone’s mom or auntie or dad was always ready to rein us in if we got out of line. And by we, I mean me. Nolan never got out of line.

So yeah, Nolan is my big brother, but he’s more than just that. He’s everything to me. And right now, the urge to just let him take care of this is too strong.

I meander up to the house. My furniture, or at least what remains of my furniture, is in a storage space squirreled away in my friend Calista’s garage. Technically, I guess it’s her mate Orion’s garage? Or both of theirs, now that they live together.

Currently, they’re in Florida with Juniper, their daughter, and I hate that. I love watching Juniper, especially because it makes my friend so happy to be able to catch up with her baby daddy after all these years. And by catch up, I mean…

I wrinkle my nose.

I’m still happy to watch Juniper for them. It lets me get time with my non-related niece, and I don’t have to watch her parents be sickeningly in love.

The reminder makes me feel even more glum. Not only do I currently not have a house, but I don’t have a love life to speak of. I broke up with my last boyfriend, Spencer, about a year and a half ago. We were together for three years, and they say it takes half as long as you were with someone to get over them. Or maybe it’s double the time you were with them? Great. If that’s the case… only three more years of heartache to go.

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