Page 9

Rocky

I stepped back into the Wild Dog, stalking through the main room, boots thumpin’ against scarred floorboards, eyes cuttin’ through the smoke and shadows. My gut was still twisted over Birdie, the rogue in the woods, and the way the whole damn world felt like it was changing under my boots. But I needed a moment to breathe. To keep eyes on the pack.

This was my club. Knox’s, technically, but I kept the wheels from fallin’ off. We weren’t just wolves. Hell, we weren’t just bikers. We were a damn zoo, dressed in cuts and attitude.

First one I saw was Bearcat, our tailgunner, posted up near the bar. Big bastard. Built like a semi-truck with a beard that made Paul Bunyan look patchy. Man didn’t own a shirt with sleeves. And the ladies sure as hell didn’t mind.

He got his name for being mythical but redneck. A bright white dire wolf in the shift, I shit you not. Ancient and larger than life, the kind you didn’t want chargin’ at you in the dark. Quiet most the time, unless the jukebox played old country. Then ol’ boy got sentimental and talked about a girl in Montana who broke his heart. Right now, he was talkin’ to a redhead with a tramp stamp that read, “Ride or Die.” Her face said mostly die. His boots were kicked up, beer in hand, watchin’ the room like he was born to guard it .

Next to him was Mate, our enforcer. Another gray wolf, but where Bearcat was muscle, Mate was all teeth. Lean, wiry, dangerous. He had a scar that cut through his eyebrow and made every woman in a ten-mile radius think he was a tragic poem in leather. Brother came from Boston originally, had that New England accent but in these parts sounded like he was from down under. No one knew the different. Anyhow, the asinine name stuck. He was flirtin’ with Sassy, one of the club girls, real subtle-like, his hand on her lower back and that grin that made women forget their upbringing.

Across the room, huddled in his own dark cloud, was Hog, another gray wolf in the club and the one most likely to put you through a wall if you looked at him wrong. He never talked much. Just grunted, drank, and lifted weights that should’ve broken the damn barbell. He was watchin’ a new waitress we hired named Jolene, but not like he was interested. More like he didn’t trust her yet. Couldn’t blame him. She was too sweet for this place.

Pickles, our nomad-turned-homebody, stood in the corner eatin’ Cheetos like it was a life mission. Nobody knew what the hell he really was, but word was he shifted into some hare-like thing—half man, half rabbit—like a deranged Easter Bunny that haunted your nightmares. No one had seen it, and none of us were sure we wanted to. Still, he’d rolled with Nashville for a while and got booted by their Prez for reasons no one would explain. Knox gave him a shot. So far, he hadn’t bitten anyone. Yet.

K.O., our cleaner, was loungin’ near the pool table, talkin’ to himself and sippin’ from a flask full of homemade hellfire. Coyote shifter, slick, twitchy, fast as hell. Man didn’t miss much. Rumor had it he’d cleaned up a kill back in Alabama so well the sheriff hired him to do their evidence disposal. You had to be a certain kind of fucked-up for that job. Now he took our kills to his contact at the body farm, a research project over at the University. But he smiled like a sinner on Sunday and never broke a sweat.

Taters, our tech guy, was hunkered down in the corner booth with three burner phones, a busted laptop, and a list of names he wouldn’t explain. Tech-savvy for a gray wolf. Looked like he belonged in a college dorm, not a biker bar, but he could wipe your online presence in six minutes flat. He wore ironic t-shirts and boots that cost more than my first Harley.

And then there was Squeegee.

Poor bastard.

Prospect with too much energy and not enough sense. He got bit by a rogue jackal on a run last year, and we weren’t sure what the hell he was anymore. His eyes flashed yellow sometimes, and he snarled in his sleep. No one wanted to bunk near him. But he was loyal. Dumb, but loyal. Right now, he was sweepin’ broken glass and tryin’ not to stare too long at Tara’s tits.

Speak of the devil…

Tara slinked by in black leather pants and a smirk. She was highborn in the shifter world. Came from one of those pureblood families that held court in the Appalachians. Full-blooded wolf. Elegant. Deadly. Thought the club was beneath her unless it was between her thighs. She’d had a thing for Knox before Eliza came along. Didn’t like losing.

Now, her sights were on me.

She paused beside me, leanin’ in like she belonged on my arm. “Long night?” she asked, voice honey thick.

“Gettin’ longer,” I muttered, sippin’ my whiskey without lookin’ her way.

“You could use a distraction,” she purred. Her hand grazed my vest.

I caught her wrist before it went any lower.

“You’re sniffing the wrong dogs asshole, darlin’,” I said, low and even.

Her lips curled. “You don’t even know what you’re missin’, Rocky.”

“I know exactly what I’d be gettin’. A headache and a mess I’d have to explain later, to your brother.”

That got a few snickers from the nearby table. Even TNT lifted his head, smirkin’.

“You scared of Bearcat?” Tara’s smile dropped, her eyes flashin’ wolf-gold for a second. “Don’t say I didn’t offer.”

I watched her walk away, hips swayin’ like a threat.

I didn’t want a power-play princess or a shifter with an agenda. I wanted…

Shit.

I wanted Birdie.

Trouble was, I didn’t know how to want her without wreckin’ her whole goddamn world.

And I didn’t know if I could stop myself from tryin’.

Birdie.

She walked in like my longin’ brought her to life. My gut tightened the second I caught sight of her. Not in that red-lipped, designer-bag, drama-queen kinda way she usually rocked. Naw. Tonight, she was in skinny jeans and a dark tank top, hair in a loose braid over her shoulder, like she was trying to fit in. Still, big-ass sunglasses were perched up on her head even though the sun had been gone a while.

She still had the nails. The purse too. Gold, loud, and damn near bigger than she was.

And hell if she didn’t look like a whole problem I wanted to solve.

She slid through the crowd, makin’ folks stare without even tryin’. Didn’t belong here one damn bit, and she knew it. But she didn’t let that stop her.

I leaned on the pool table, cue stick in hand, watchin’ her like a wolf with a scent. My beast stirred beneath my skin, restless. Ever since that night in the woods, since I’d saved her ass and bolted before she could put two and two together, I hadn’t been right.

“Rocky,” she called when she spotted me, voice sweet as peach wine.

I nodded and pushed off the table, meetin’ her halfway. “Birdie. ”

She smiled up at me, green eyes bright. “I was hopin’ you’d be here.”

“Yeah?” I fought the grin threatenin’ to break loose. “You come to get your boots dirty with the rest of us filthy animals?”

She wrinkled her nose. “You’re only slightly less intimidating when you smile.”

“You only get half a smile ‘cause you still owe me an explanation for why the hell you were campin’ alone.”

She sighed dramatically, flippin’ her braid off her shoulder. “That’s such old news. I already told you, I needed air. I didn’t know it’d come with wildlife horror movie extras. Honestly, I don’t want to even think of it.”

I didn’t laugh. Not even a little. Because Birdie was lying. I could smell that. That rogue from the woods hadn’t shown his face again since I tore into him, but my gut said he wasn’t gone. Not yet.

“You always do dumb shit like that?” I asked.

She frowned. “Like what?”

“Put yourself in danger.”

That got her hackles up. She put a hand on her hip. “I didn’t know I was in danger, okay?”

I swallowed a snort. If only she knew.

“You tell Eliza about the guy you were seein’?” I asked, offhand, like I wasn’t itchin’ to know every damn detail.

Birdie’s brows shot up. “Brent? What does he have to do with anything?”

Brent. “Brent Halston?”

“Yes. What’s it to you?”

Every muscle in my body went still. I knew that name.

Used to run with a sketchy crew outta Georgia, shifters who didn’t play by any rules, not even their own. We’d just run him outta Knoxville two weeks ago after Smokey caught wind he was pokin’ around the school where Eliza worked. Claimed he was lookin’ for someone.

Now I knew who.

“You still talk to him?” I asked, tryin’ to sound casual.

“God, no,” she said, rolling her eyes. “He was a mistake. One of those too-hot, too-smooth, full-of-crap types. You know? He was Mark’s best friend.”

I nodded, taking in this new information. And I also knew Brent was dangerous. Rogue shifter, unclaimed. If he tried to bite her, tried to mark her, he’d have started the shift without her consent. That kinda shit should’ve been a death sentence in our world.

My hands curled into fists.

“I didn’t like the way he looked at me near the end,” she added, voice quieter now. “Like I was something he could own. It creeped me out.”

“You ever feel like he was followin’ you? Hangin’ around where he didn’t belong?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Why are you asking me all this?”

I took a step closer. “Because a guy like that don’t let go easy. If he shows up again, you call me. You don’t ask questions, you don’t argue. You call.”

She blinked, lips parting like she wanted to push back, but she didn’t.

“Okay,” she said, barely a whisper.

I took a breath, tryna shove the rage down deep. Couldn’t afford to lose it. Not here. Not in front of her. But my mind was made. A rogue was sniffing around her, and I had to stay close.

“You busy tomorrow?” I asked, switching gears.

“Depends,” she said, tilting her head. “Why?”

“Thought I’d take you out.”

“Oh yeah? On a date?”

I nodded. “Gotta get you outta this bar. You’re becoming a regular.”

She arched a brow. “What kind of date?”

I smirked. “Surprise kind. You in?”

Birdie gave me a slow once-over, lips curving in a way that made my blood hot .

“I’m in.”

We stood there a beat too long. Close enough to kiss. Close enough to let things go too far again.

Instead, I reached for her hand, brought it to my lips, and pressed a kiss to her knuckles.

Her eyes blew up like balloons.

Then I walked away.

Didn’t trust myself to stay.

Back in my apartment above the garage, I peeled out of my cut and boots, flopped onto the mattress, and stared at the ceiling.

Sleep didn’t come easy these days. Not with the rogue still out there, not with Birdie this close and still not mine.

When I finally did drift off, the dreams came quick.

We were runnin’. Not walkin’. Not ridin’.

Runnin’.

Her blonde hair whipped like silk in the wind, her laugh echoing off the trees. I ran beside her on four legs, fast and free, our paws diggin’ into the dirt as we moved like one beast with two hearts.

She wasn’t scared.

She wasn’t even surprised.

She was wild. Beautiful. Mine .

I woke up hard, breathless, tangled in sheets that smelled like pine and whiskey, and a hint of her.

Damn, I was sweaty and hard. Reaching down, I tugged my dick free and stroked while I thought of bending the blonde to my will. Spreading her thighs wide and tasting her honeysuckle pussy.

Beneath the desire lurked a gnawing fear. The wolf inside me howled to claim her, to mark her as mine in the most primal way. Still, the implications of that bore down on me. Marking her would bind us irrevocably, intertwining our souls and destinies. But it would also change her, thrusting her into a world she might not be ready for, a world filled with darkness, danger, and instincts that could consume her.

Tomorrow, I’d take her up in the sky.

But the part of me buried deepest, the wolf?

He already wanted to run.

And I was startin’ to think he didn’t want to run alone anymore.