Page 2 of Wulf's Pack
She’s tiny and waifish, wearing a pair of sweats that drown her paired with a Kansas T-shirt. The state, not the band. Not exactly clubbing attire, but then she doesn’t seem like she’s here to dance or pick up a date. She’s hunched in on herself, avoiding touch and eye contact with everyone around her. She looks afraid of her own shadow, but also strangely determined to be here.
She finds a table across the room and slowly sits down. My wolf growls in my head. She’s moving as if she’s in pain, and he doesn’t like that thought. I don’t like it either. Something about her is triggering my protective instincts.
She settles into her seat and looks around the club. When her gaze reaches the bar, her eyes meet mine, and my heart stops. Her eyes are big and beautiful, and so pale I can tell they’re blue all the way from here. I have to meet her. I take a deep breath, trying to catch her scent, but she’s far enough away that with the other people around the room and all the alcohol at the bar, I can’t smell her. I can’t tell what she is. Fae maybe? A water sprite or a dryad? She’s certainly delicate-looking enough.
I send her a big, friendly smile, and her eyes snap wide with panic. She quickly looks away. That’s weird. Why would she be scared of me? I wrinkle my nose. That doesn’t sit right with me.
I’m so focused on the beautiful stranger that I don’t notice someone has approached the bar until a wave of dominance rolls over me, causing the hairs on the back of my neck to stand up. I freeze, take a deep breath, and let it out with a grimace. She-wolf. A strong one. Unfamiliar, unmated, and throwing off all kinds of pheromones. Just what I want to deal with tonight. It always seems the stronger the woman, the bigger the pain in my ass.
I delay the inevitable by first serving the pair of sorcerers who’ve been waiting while I obsessed over the woman across the room. Underworld is my clan brother Terrance’s club, and he does a great job running the place, but the bar is my domain. I’ve been tending it since I left my pack and came to Detroit to be a lone wolf more than fifty years ago. I love it. It’s my home away from home.
The club is the main hot spot for all of Detroit’s supernatural population, which means I’ve served just about every underworlder in the city. Everybody knows me. Everybodyloves me. Usually, I thrive on the attention—I’m the world’s biggest extrovert—but lately it feels like every she-wolf in the state has shown up determined to lay claim to the most eligible wolf in all of Michigan.
Once the sorcerers are taken care of and I can’t avoid the she-wolf any longer, I make sure my customer service smile is securely in place when I greet her. “Hi. What can I get you this evening?”
She’s beautiful, no doubt. Tall and brunette, with an hourglass figure, a nice tan, big brown eyes, and confidence that any man would find sexy. If she weren’t a she-wolf, I’d ask for her number. But I don’t date wolves. Too complicated. I don’t do complicated.
The woman gives me a sultry smile and looks me directly in the eyes. I can’t break her gaze. Her stare is a challenge, and it has my wolf bristling. With a stare that direct, she must think she’s close to my dominance or even equal to it. Cocky. She’s an alpha female, but she’s not nearly as strong as I am.
I’m used to being challenged. As a packless wolf in free territory, I’m constantly getting sized up by other shifters. It’s in our nature. Usually, it doesn’t bother me. I simply stare them down until they know who the stronger wolf is, and then I serve them a drink. But my wolf surprises me today, rising to the challenge with open hostility. It’s an effort not to shift.
I unleash my full alpha power and let out a warning growl. The woman’s eyes widen, and her breath hitches. She lowers her gaze, but glances up quickly again, a hungry gleam in her eyes. “I want you,” she says, not beating around the bush.
I have to respect her directness. She’s too alpha to be coy. Too bad overly aggressive women annoy the shit out of me. “Sorry, I’m not on the menu.”
Her sultry smile falls crooked. She’s amused by my rebuff. I want to groan. Why is it that she-wolves can never take no for ananswer? “Now that’s not true, is it?” she says, leaning toward me. “Wulf Winters, the biggest flirt in Detroit.”
That’s a fair title. I’m one of the friendliest people in town. I’ll flirt with anybody—male, female, twenty-one, or seven hundred. Just not she-wolves. Flirt with an unmated she-wolf, and the next thing you know you’ve got Glenn Close on your hands. “I’m a bartender. Flirting comes with the territory. But it’s harmless. Can I get you a drink?”
The woman considers pursuing the conversation further but sits back, biding her time. “A beer would be great. Have you got CBS?”
I nod and get to work pouring her beer. After I hand it over, I head to the other end of the bar where a group of four wolves has just walked up. None of them are as strong as the woman, but they aren’t weak either. And judging by their leers, not a single one of them would turn down an advance from the woman. Hopefully they’ll distract her from me.
I pour them a round, then head back to check on my sorcerers. A quick glance tells me the she-wolf is still watching me. I wish there were more of a crowd to run interference, but it’s still too early.
My eyes drift back to the woman across the club, still sitting at her table, sipping a tumbler of dark gold liquid. She’s watching me, but when I meet her eyes, she quickly looks away again. Her gaze drifts to the she-wolf at the bar, and she frowns. Something tugs inside me. Why do I feel the need to hurry over to her and explain that there’s nothing going on between the she-wolf and myself?
The she-wolf at the end of the bar sips her beer, giving me a moment’s peace, but I know she’s not done. They never are. Sure enough, she calls down to me. “I’ve asked around. You date plenty.”
It’s true. I have a reputation as an eternal bachelor. I’m not a player. I don’t lead women on. But I’m far from celibate. Women know what they’re getting with me, which is a casual night of fun but nothing serious.
The sorcerers, having heard her, laugh. One of them raises his drink to her in a salute. “Wulf dates. He doesn’t mate.”
The other hoots. “Best quit while you still have your dignity.”
The woman’s eyes flash with anger, but she keeps control of her temper. She grabs her beer and saunters down the bar to join us. She gives me a grin that’s all predator and sticks out her chest, leaning over the bar to give me an ample view of her cleavage. “I could change your mind.”
I try to always stay polite with customers, but this woman’s not taking the hint. “Honey, you’re not even a little tempting.”
The woman gasps at the insult, and the sorcerers snicker. She glares at them, then turns that fiery gaze on me. I point to the group of wolves at the other end of the bar. “If you’re truly looking for a mate, you’d best go try your luck with those gentlemen, because you and I will never happen.”
The woman stiffens, then growls. My wolf takes it as another challenge, and I glare at her.
“Do you know who I am?” she screeches.
“Nope. Makes no difference to me. All you she-wolves are the same. Desperate alpha chasers.”
“I’m the daughter of the Bay City alpha. Someday my mate and I will be the alpha pair of the pack.”
