Page 16 of What's Rogue Got To Do With It

I didn’t know what to say. So I didn’t say anything.

Instead, I held him close as we caught our breaths and savored the moment.

9

LARKIN

I yawned and stretched before downing the rest of my coffee and studying Creven as he picked up firewood. The part of me that enjoyed order was pleased at how he stacked it.

I’m glad we’re whole again.

Me too. Not that we were because I didn’t have a pack but my injuries had healed and I could reach for something on a top shelf without grimacing.

My mate and I had enjoyed two weeks of domestic bliss, something I’d never experienced. I should have been ecstatic and skipping through meadows full of bluebells.

My beast clawed at my insides, instinct telling him to do what fated mates did and that was showing the shifter world that we were fated. Every moment Creven and I spent together was torture whether we were cooking or falling asleep. Even more difficult were the intimate moments. Even him brushing against me or blowing a kiss was enough to make my belly cramp.

It should have been everything I wanted and it was except for the constant, overwhelming urge to sink my teeth into his shoulder and mark him as mine.

My wolf paced within me, coming up with plans for how he could sneakily mark our mate.

Not happening, I told him for the hundredth time that morning.

He wasn’t well versed on the ins and outs of the human world but even though he didn’t admit it, he understood the ramifications of two outsiders mating. Us marking one another would threaten the current pack system which held the belief that shifters couldn’t survive outside their pack or den. If we proved it was possible, Alphas and shifter councils would stamp us out so they could maintain the status quo.

Rogues and loners didn't get the security and permanence that came with a true mating bond.

"You're thinking too hard.” Creven appeared in the doorway. There was no need to look at him because his eyes would show the same frustration as mine.

“Can't help it.” I rinsed my cup. "My wolf is..."

"Demanding. My fox, too." His jaw tightened and he ground his teeth. Thank gods they had shifter strength and hadn’t been worn down. "Maybe we both need a distraction."

“Does it involve getting naked?” I was hopeful we could return to bed.

“Nope.”

Thirty minutes later I was bouncing along a road full of potholes in Creven’s ancient pickup truck. The bed was loaded downwith scrap metal he'd been collecting including copper pipes, old appliances and bits of machinery he'd salvaged from abandoned farms. He sold it to a recycling center and the money was enough to buy food and gas and have some left over.

"There's a place about an hour from here that pays fair prices.” He drove off the rough track and onto the main highway. "Figured we could make a day of it. Maybe catch a movie and grab dinner somewhere. It’ll make a change from my cooking.”

Like a real couple. Movies and dinner was what regular people did whether they were shifters or humans. We could pretend we were mates who were spending the rest of our lives together and not outsiders stealing moments of normality in the cracks of a world where they didn’t belong.

Gladstone was a mid-sized city, the kind I usually avoided. It was big enough to have multiple packs and if we came to their attention, we’d be in trouble. But its size provided cover for a lone shifter. But as we drove through the streets with Creven beside me, and the radio blasting a song we were singing along to, I could pretend we were like everyone else.

The recycling center was on the industrial side of town, surrounded by chain-link fences and factories, the kind where workers streamed out at the end of the work day. We pulled into line behind two other trucks, and I helped my mate sort the metal into the correct categories while we waited.

But my wolf and I picked up scents, a hint that became a whiff before they floated to us on the breeze. And they signaled trouble. Three wolf shifters radiated arrogance—the kind that came with belonging to a pack—and were standing near the weighing station. They leaned on their vehicle, surveying the world through aviator sunglasses.They'd picked up on our scentwhen we got out of the truck and their beasts were at the forefront of their eyes. My skin prickled as they ran their gaze over me.

“Creven.” I jerked my head toward the shifters. "We've got company."

He lifted his head and his heartbeat sped up. “Be cool and stay calm. We'll finish here and leave."

But as we moved our first load of copper toward the scales, the largest of the three stepped in front of us. I had to guess, I’d say he was aiming to be his pack’s next Alpha. He scented of ambition and a lust for power.

"Look what crawled out of the woods." His voice was loud enough for everyone in the yard to hear. Creven paused but didn’t step back or go around him.

"Afternoon, Daniel. Didn't know the Hollowbourne Pack had expanded into the recycling business."

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