Another Chance Read online

  What would he do to ease the pain? Get blitzed on rotgut bourbon and tear up Shady Heart night after night? What had seemed like such a good idea yesterday…now so fuckin’ lame. Not to mention the others he’d left behind. He hung his head in shame.

  “One more thing, wolf,” Cal continued pitilessly. “You harm a single hair on those little ones’ pelts, or let my baby niece and nephew see you in this condition…and there’ll be fuckin’ hell to pay. You can count on that.”

  ***

  “I have to piss and puke.”

  “Not in my truck you don’t.” Brick slammed on the brakes and brought the vehicle to a screeching halt. Chance shoved open the door and barreled out, tumbling to his knees in one not-quite-fluid motion. Which was fine. Because he had enough fluids to deal with. He collapsed, retching, in the thick grass on the side of the graveled road. He’d have laughed if he wasn’t so sick. The rutted, unpaved byway winding around the mountain from Shady Heart to Los Lobos gave the overgrown path a title it didn’t deserve. Chance could do something about the seedy neglect, though. Would do something…with the new Alpha’s okay. He had skills, after all. He’d learned a lot in the ten years of his absence, and he could provide jobs to other wolves, put them to work. He hadn’t returned completely empty-handed, even if nothing but air currently filled his pockets.

  Waves of nausea steamrolled him again. Only dry heaves, though. He’d apparently brought up every remnant of his last forgotten meal and the gallons of alcohol lubricating it.

  Struggling to his feet, his hands on his zipper, he froze in mid-zip when a raven circling overhead began squawking as if hawks were tearing it apart. When he looked upward, the crazy bird pelted him with a shower of acorns.

  Brick opened the driver’s door and exited the vehicle. He glanced up at the sky and laughed. “I suggest you don’t take your pecker out here unless you want it pecked off.”

  “Friend of yours?”

  “My mate.”

  Chance nearly choked. Was his brother running some kind of harem? How many fuckin’ mates did he have? “I thought your mate was a cat.”

  “You thought semi-wrong. She’s half cougar, half skinwalker. The raven’s her favorite form, though. She prefers to soar and she likes to see what’s going on from the bird’s-eye view. Be glad she only hit you with a few acorns. She used to drop black walnuts on me. If you have to take a leak before we get back to Los Lobos, my advice is to book it into the woods under the tree canopy and do your business behind some thick brush.”

  Chance didn’t need to be told twice. He loped off into the darkest part of the forest. So far, his return had been astonishing. Nothing the way he’d expected it to be. His baby brother, a scrawny, troubled teen who couldn’t trust the voices in his head when Chance had hightailed it out of Los Lobos, had morphed into a big, rugged, happy, and assertive dominant male, broad with the kind of rippling muscles hard work built. Contentment played in Brick’s eyes, and an air of self-assured confidence wrapped around him like a second hide, evident in everything he did. He didn’t seem plagued by his voices and visions anymore. When had he eased into his skin and accepted his worth? Chance had missed so much.

  Was Brick’s demeanor and attitude due to Drew Tao, nut-job Magnum’s son, who had ascended as the new Alpha in Los Lobos after finally taking out his demented father? Or because of the damned screeching bird Brick had mated? Cat. Cat-bird. Whatever.

  Zipping his junk back into his filthy jeans, he returned to the truck. One of the most stunning and alluring women he’d ever seen stood next to his brother, as if Krazy-glued to his side. Brick draped his arm around her shoulders, demonstrating his possession, as if the mate scent didn’t already hang heavy in the air around them. The raven turned out to be a lithe and willowy woman with gorgeous green eyes reminding him strongly of the forest from which he’d just emerged. Her gleaming ebony hair flowed nearly to her waist. Still slim, despite the, what was it again? Kit and pup cubs?

  Well done, li’l bro. Well fuckin’ done.

  A fleeting pang of envy crackled through him then vanished. Once, when he was still a kid, he’d thought he might have something as good with Julie Pembroke. One day, when they were both older, Magnum had decreed otherwise. The rest of the world had barged between them, getting in the way. He might as well flush all those might-have-been regrets down the toilet. If he had any hope of making a new go of it in Los Lobos, he needed to ditch the past and start fresh. Forget…everything. Forget Julie. As. If.

  “Betty swung by to play with the kids and I left her in charge of them,” the green-eyed woman informed Brick. “I hope they don’t make her pull out all her hair by the time we get back.”

  “Yeah, I doubt Drew would like that too much.” Brick grinned and puffed out his chest, his pride at his boisterous brood evident.

  “Drew and Betty managed to patch up their differences?” Chance mused. “So maybe….”

  Brick eyed him thoughtfully. “A lot of people seem to be finding their way back to Los Lobos and to each other now,” he said. “Isn’t always easy, though. Forgot you’d known them before you…left town. Some folks manage to forgive and forget. Others find it harder.”

  “Listen, Brick….” Chance stumbled over his words. What was he supposed to say, anyway? That he’d never forgotten the family he’d left behind? Not for a single moment? That Magnum had threatened them all, including Brick, and then had focused his evil sights on Julie, making it completely untenable for Chance to stay? That every time he’d look at Julie and the male Magnum decided to mate her to, his guts would bleed?

  He and Brick would have to hash out where things stood between them over a couple of shots of tequila at Gee’s bar, if he couldn’t find the right phrases before then. For the moment, he was supremely grateful his brother had done so well and had been willing enough to put bygones aside to bail him out of the Shady Heart jail.

  “I’m good for it, you know,” he murmured.

  “For what?”

  “Whatever you paid the damn cat alpha to spring me. Soon as I get set up here and have my funds wired to Rapid City.”

  Brick shrugged, and the green-eyed woman nudged him in the side, saving Chance from the awkward moment. His brother nodded and dragged her a little closer, offering her a slow wink. “If you haven’t guessed by now, babe, this is my disreputable brother, Lucky Chance.”

  Lucky Chance? Really? How the hell had Brick known that?

  “We may not have a bank, but we’re not exactly cut off from all media, bro.” His grin widened. “This is my glorious Summer. My mate.” He nuzzled the woman’s neck and his voice dropped an octave. “My heart, my soul, my savior.”

  Good thing the contents of Chance’s belly had already emptied or he might have started retching again. Jesus. Brick was the last person he’d ever expected to hear such mushy sentiments from. Back in the day, when Magnum had torn Chance and Julie asunder, Brick had been on the light side of the sympathy scale regarding their broken romance. On the other hand, his baby brother had been battling a legion of demons of his own back then.

  Chance made the appropriate, hello-how-ya-doing-welcome-to-the-family noises, nodding and smiling at Summer, without extending his hand. He didn’t need her rejecting him, and he smelled like crap. Plus, for all he knew, the half cat could bite his limb off and he needed an arm to wield a hammer. Willing as he might be to carouse in Shady Heart, the idea of Calhoun Seven’s niece mated to his brother was still a little much to swallow.

  “A lot’s changed around here,” he mumbled.

  “Indeed.”

  “I was so glad to hear you’d returned,” Summer said sweetly. “Brick’s told me…nothing…about you.” She shot her mate a devilish look. “The kids can’t have too many adoring uncles looking after them. Can’t wait for you to meet them. As long as you don’t end up as smitten and spoil them as much as my Uncle Cal.”

  “And everybody else,” Brick added.

 
; “And everybody else,” she agreed.

  “How about we get Chance settled at Gee’s first, babe? I’m sure he’s looking forward to a shower and a snooze.”

  “Okay, but….”

  He wondered if Summer had been about to argue with Brick, and invite him back to their home. Then he heard the faraway rustling, the faint cry. All thoughts vanished, except one: Julie.

  “Everybody shut up,” he barked.

  They turned to him, stunned by the abrupt command. Brick’s brow creased and the downward tilt of his hard lips showed displeasure far beyond annoyance. Clearly unused to being dictated to anymore, it seemed. He edged still closer to his mate, his brandy-colored eyes flashing wolf amber. Summer’s own eyes widened as she cocked her head to one side.

  “Don’t you hear it?” Chance demanded. His wolf’s super-sensitive ears strained to catch a repeat of the low moan.

  He sniffed the air. The scent of cinnamon and vanilla filled his nose and shot straight to his brain—and points south. A fragrance he knew well. Would never forget. The scent pressed all his buttons, triggered every wolfy response. Mate. A scent now tinged by the iron whiff of blood…and the heavy acrid sting of fear. Find. Protect.

  “Julie’s in trouble,” he growled. “She needs me.”

  Pulse pounding and heart in his mouth, he shifted instantly and bounded off into the dark woods.

  Chapter Two

  As the blackness eased, sharp pains needled Julie in every part of her body. Blades of agony stabbed her when she tried to stretch out her hand or straighten her unnaturally bent and twisted leg. Muscles and bones refused to cooperate. Her limbs failed to obey. Her wolf prowled inside her, trapped as if in a padlocked cage, unable to emerge, unable to force a healing shift.

  A sticky, squishy mass covered her face. Panic seized her. Had she cracked her skull? Were her brains oozing out? Was leaking gray matter why she couldn’t think? Why her head remained cloudy as wet wads of cotton? How long had she been out? She stared up through the trees at patches of bright blue, cloudless sky. Still daylight. She sniffed clean, fresh mountain air, fragrant with the earthy scent of loam and leaves and pine. Small animals skittered through the brush under the warming rays of the sun, giving the predator within her a wide berth. Nothing else. Nothing unusual or out of place. What the hell had happened to her?

  Sweet Luna, Goddess of the Moon. Where were the Black Hills Wolves sentinels and scouts, protectors of the pack? Where was Ryker or his patrols? Drew or his lieutenants? Someone would come by eventually, right? Or would she die out here in the middle of nowhere? Outside of Los Lobos? All alone? She amended her last thought. She’d been all but dead for more than ten years. Alive, surrounded by pack and family, but drifting through her life, her heart a virtually useless muscle beating out of habit to keep her body going.

  This…this would be true death. With no one to mark her passing to the other side.

  A sudden lightning bolt of emotional pain tore through her and she gasped. This was different from her physical wounds and injuries. This was like a jagged shard of invisible glass piercing her shriveled heart.

  Chance.

  Perhaps he would notice…even from a distance. Someone whose soul tangled with hers so inextricably he’d crumble from the searing blast and scorching emptiness of her passing. Feel it like the shriveling of his own heart, the icing of his soul. As his abandonment had nearly destroyed her.

  If her body left the earth, her soul springing free from mortal bonds…would Chance know? Would he feel it? Would it crush him? The way she’d felt the bitter, never-ending emptiness for the last ten years of her life? Tears seeped from the corner of her eyes and she tried to shake them away, but blinding misery rocketed through her head. She couldn’t die this way. They’d never even gotten to say good-bye.

  Wrong, damn it. Why the hell was she crying for the selfish, inconsiderate beast? He’d skulked off in the middle of the night, without so much as a backward glance or an explanation. Without so much as an inquiry over all these years to find out how she fared. Not even a Greetings from Asbury Park souvenir postcard. Or a chatty all about me Christmas newsletter.

  The bastard hadn’t wasted one miserable breath to fight for her. Hadn’t spared her a thought. Why shed pathetic tears over him? Why spend what might be her dying breath to gasp out his name? He’d probably be relieved to have the remaining ties between them severed. Even if it made him as in-freaking-sane as Magnum had gone after the death of his own mate.

  I am not freakin’ dying here.

  She swore a steady stream of blue words not normally in her vocabulary. She had too many things yet to do. Too many years spent sleepwalking through the world had convinced her life was over because of one disloyal male. Now she knew it wasn’t.

  She had purpose. She had reason. Whipping up muffin baskets and holiday cookies for friends and creating batches of delectable treats for charity bake sales in her own kitchen had sparked her dreams of opening a gourmet cupcake and gift shop in Los Lobos. Maybe she wasn’t quite sweet enough, and had too snarky a reputation to be the proprietor of a full-fledged pastry shop. On the other hand, whimsical, made-to-order specialties to mark celebratory occasions like anniversaries and engagements, graduations and matings, the opening of a new office or enterprise, or smaller milestones like the Northridge twins learning to toddle and cutting their first teeth, were totally in her wheelhouse. Everyone loved her gifts. Gourmet cupcakes flavored with unusual ingredients like hot pepper jelly and cherry cola and spiced with humor and wit. Los Lobos had begun to bounce back to life after the ousting of Magnum and the ascension of Drew. Wolves were returning to the pack, fulfilling lifelong dreams, opening businesses. Why couldn’t she?

  She possessed the backbone of a strong, talented woman. She’d never have made it this far without a steely spine. No man would define her. Not her Alpha. Not her…mate. Especially not a mate who’d never bothered to claim her. Whose fangs had never pierced the soft skin of her neck, or ripped out the throat of a rival. A mate with whom she’d never shared the final mating bond. Who’d run when the chips were down.

  Damn you to hell, Chance Northridge. If I never see your face again…I’ll be a mightier woman for it. You didn’t kill me. You made me stronger.

  Nor would death claim her. At least not today. She wouldn’t stand for going quietly into the good night. Right now, however…she couldn’t stand at all. She’d have to do something. Quickly.

  Cautiously, she extended the tip of her tongue and swiped it across her stinging lips. Raw and swollen, as she’d suspected. The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth…and something sweet and rich and gooey.

  Not gray matter, whatever the hell dribbled brains tasted like.

  More like…like…chocolate buttercream frosting.

  Julie groaned as her memory crawled back, frame by frame like a slow-motion movie. Awareness of her circumstances brought renewed pain and with it the consciousness of fear. Alone. Vulnerable. Unable to move. Unable to shift. Prey, not predator. In the No Wolf’s Land part of the forest. No Cat’s Land, either. It might be days before anyone came this way and found her.

  One second she’d been strolling through the woods on the way to see Brick and Summer’s scruffy, obstreperous, and totally adorable twins, Clay and Autumn in the beautiful lodge deep in the woods between Los Lobos and Shady Heart. She’d been carrying a box of painstakingly decorated, tie-dye colored, cotton-candy-flavored mini cupcakes with a circus theme: tumbling wolves dressed as clowns and cats flying through the air on the high wire and trapeze. The next moment, she’d soared through space herself, a half-hidden root sending her rolling off the edge of a steep ravine, branches and brambles snagging her hair and ripping her face on the way down. Pretty clumsy for a wolf. Her mind had been elsewhere, of course.

  The thought of the damage she’d done herself, her inability to move, sent stark terror spiraling out of control. How could she remain alone in the ravine all ni
ght where no one could find her, where no one would look? Beads of cold sweat trickled between her breasts, popped out on her brow. Edges of darkness encroached on her vision. She was about to pass out again. She took a deep breath, trying to ward off unconsciousness a moment longer, and punched a weak, last-ditch cry for help into the silence of the woods.

  Then…a wave of warmth enveloped her. The heated caress of another’s breath on her face. A scent, both familiar and foreign, putting her on edge. Was she too injured to place it? She inhaled and yowled in agony.

  A large figure blotted out the sun and crouched above her, growling. Another wolf, then. She could only hope someone from Los Lobos had chanced upon her, and not a feral wolf or some other predator. She wished she could see better, discern the animal’s color and markings. A thick muzzle nudged her side. It released a series of guttural growls and grunts, as if the beast tried to speak to her.

  Huge jaws opened and clamped around her belt. She held her breath. The beast’s long, sharp canines didn’t tear her to shreds. Instead, he tugged on her belt, dragging, pulling, and lifting her out of the ravine. She screamed with excruciating pain. Nausea overwhelmed her. Gulping another breath of fresh air, she steeled herself to keep from blacking out.

  Suddenly the other wolf’s scent enveloped and overwhelmed her, awareness jackknifing through her. Not the least foreign. Totally familiar. Playing through all her memories and dreams. No, no. It couldn’t be. She squeezed her eyes closed. Smoke and white sage, pure masculine sex appeal. She’d know his scent anywhere. Her whole body awoke. Shook. Bringing with it a renewed surge of agony. A different kind of tension also took hold. In the midst of all her pain and horror…lust. The recognition stunned her.