Page 29 of Kidnapped By the Wolf

“Not when —” He breaks off, looking into the distance, and I can tell he’s uncomfortable talking about his past. “I didn’t have a great start in life. I never knew my biological mother, and the woman who raised me . . . Well, she had problems. I’m not really sure how she got hooked up with my old man, but it wasn’t a good match.”

“They got a divorce?”

He shakes his head. “They were never married. He left after he knocked her up the first time. That’s when he got together with my mom and had me. Whensheleft, I guess he didn’t want to deal with raising a pup on his own, so he went back to the first woman he left high and dry. He was an alcoholic, and when he drank, he got violent. My older brother — half-brother — took the worst of it, but sometimes he would hit me, too.”

My stomach sours at the thought of a young Adrian, trapped in a household with an abusive alcoholic father.

“I’m sorry.” The words taste flimsy on my tongue. It’s a stupid thing to say, but I don’t have anything better to offer. I know all too well what it’s like to be unwanted. “And your half-brother . . . Is he a shifter, too?”

He nods.

“How did you end up alpha of the Gold Creek pack?”

Adrian chews on the inside of his cheek, as though considering my question. “Most people think that wolves are born alphas, but I don’t think that’s true.”

“You mean you weren’tborndominant?”

“Dominance isn’t what makes an alpha, though most alphas are dominant. What makes an alpha is the urge to protect — to defend what’s his at all costs.”

Adrian holds my gaze with those gold-flecked eyes, and liquid heat pools in my stomach. “I don’t think my brother and I became alphas until we were driven to it — until he had to protect me from the man who sired us. I don’t think it happened for me until my first deployment, watching my brothers in arms get blown up and shot at.”

An icy fist squeezes my heart, and I have the sudden urge to reach across the table and take Adrian’s hand in mine.

He clears his throat. “When I finally got out of my father’s house, I went into the marines like Eli. Figured I could at least make something of myself. After my first tour, I got an offer from a private military company. I worked for them for a few years before the organization shut down. Politics.” He rolls his eyes. “The new administration decided the optics weren’t good, so the powers that be gave me a nice severance package, dissolved the company, and told me to keep my mouth shut. That’s when I came back here.”

“And they made you alpha?”

Adrian lifts an eyebrow. “It doesn’t work that way. Wolves can sense who among them is most dominant. If there’s ever a dispute, the two will usually fight until one wolf yields. In the case of Gold Creek, however, none of the other dominant wolves had any desire to lead.” He pulls a wry smile that makes my stomach flutter. “Eli didn’t get much of a choice in the matter. After we killed Marcus, the leader of the Red Feather Lake pack, the other alphas voted to have Eli take over that territory.”

“And do you . . .enjoyit? Being alpha, I mean.”

He rolls his eyes. “Honestly? Most days I feel like I’m mother hen to a bunch of unruly teenagers.”

I can’t help it. I laugh.

The sound seems to shatter the tension that Adrian carries around like a well-worn jacket, and he breaks into a grin. Irealize this is the first time I’ve seen himactuallysmile, and damn, what a smile it is.

Adrian’s canines are ever so slightly crooked, but in a way that only adds to his good looks. Little crinkles appear at the corners of his eyes, and the rumble of his chuckle makes my insides hum deliciously.

Seeing him smile, I don’t want him to stop, but then his eyebrows shoot up. “That reminds me. Hang on a sec . . .”

He leaps out of his seat and heads for the steps, disappearing into the darkness. When he returns, I see he’s clutching something in his hands, though it’s too dark to make out any details.

Then he steps into the light, and I realize what it is. Adrian’s cradling a shiny new ukulele, and my heart stops beating.

“I got you a new one, since Sebastian broke yours,” he says, kneeling down in front of my chair and presenting me with the instrument.

The body looks like solid mahogany, but there’s no brand name visible through the sound hole — just the outline of a wolf howling on a mountaintop branded into the wood. The fret markers are mother-of-pearl inlay in the shape of the different moon phases, and a design of wolves running through pine trees is carved into the body.

“These are handmade here in Colorado,” Adrian murmurs, looking suddenly nervous. “It took me a while to track this one down.”

“It’s . . .” I trail off, running my thumb over one of the strings, completely at a loss for words.

This is, without a doubt, the most beautiful instrument I’ve ever held. It’s more than I deserve.

I know immediately that I can’t accept it. Taking an instrument this fine as a replacement for my secondhand Makala feels like accepting Adrian’s offer to stay in Gold Creek.

The alpha’s gaze flickers to mine, and he looks . . . nervous. “Dammit. It’s not the right size.”

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