Page 16 of Wild Alpha (Cold-Blooded Alpha #12)

T he house Fisher pulls up in front of is cozy.

A few minutes outside town, it’s down a short, tree-lined road, just feet from other single-story cabins. It’s nice. The dog barking its head off is less pleasant. My wolf’s response to the barking dog is boredom. Dogs don’t scare her.

She scares them .

Fisher warned me about the dog he sometimes looks after for his dad. I don’t know how I let myself forget. “I’ll wait in the car,” I say, not moving when he cuts the engine.

He grins at me. “Don’t be ridiculous; come on in.” He’s out of the car and heading to the front door before I can stop him.

I brace myself for the expected outcome of a dog and a wolf coming face-to-face.

He opens the door, and a large, wolf-like dog rushes out, stopping abruptly with jaws open and eyes locked on me. Yep. With the window rolled half down, he’s definitely caught my scent. A vicious snarl drips from its mouth, all but confirming it.

Fisher grips the dog’s collar, holding him back when he lunges toward me.

“ Jett ! Sorry, Averie. He’s not usually…

” His voice trails off when he sees the look on my face, and he sighs, rubbing a hand over his face.

“I should have guessed he’s not going to be a fan of a bigger, bitier predator, huh? ”

“ Bitier ?” I try not to laugh. It’s hard to be offended by a term that I actually don’t mind. “No one has ever called me a bitier predator before.”

He grins at me. “No offense meant. Give me a minute to do something with Jett.”

He disappears inside, and I get a brief glimpse of a glossy wooden cabin interior before the door slams shut behind him.

Jett stops growling and whining now that he can no longer sniff me. I hear Fisher moving inside his house, and the tapping of claws as Jett follows him around.

Five minutes later, he’s back with a small duffel in hand.

“Sorry about that. I forgot Jett would be there,” he says, sliding behind the wheel after tossing his bag into the backseat. “When Dad is at the shop all day, he’ll sometimes bring Jett over to mine. I have a fenced backyard, and Jett can go in and out. His place backs onto a forest.”

“That explains the dog smell.”

Fisher is shutting his door when he turns to face me, his forehead furrowed. “Dog smell?”

Shit.

I scrunch my nose and avoid his gaze. “Sorry. I told myself I wouldn’t mention it.”

His expression is impossible to read. “I smell like a dog?”

I blush, saying tentatively, “Only a little bit.”

My wolf makes it clear in no uncertain terms that it’s more than a little bit to her.

Stop it, you. I thought you liked him.

Laughing, he slams his door shut and leans over to kiss me. “I’ll ask my dad to figure out a new place for Jett to run around.” He’s smiling as he adds, “I’d prefer it if this girl I like very much didn't think I smell like a dog.”

I smile back, pulling on my seatbelt as he does the same. “It was only a little, and I don’t want you to stop seeing Jett because of me.”

He starts the engine. “He’s my dad’s dog. I watch him when I can, but I prefer you more.”

Back at the Blackshaw farmhouse, everyone is gathered around the grill with paper plates. They turn to wave when they see us coming with the bags Mart packed for us.

“My dad insisted on sending food back with us,” Fisher says, lifting one of his two bags. I tried telling him I’m stronger than I look, but he still insisted on carrying the heavier bags with the sodas.

“Mart is the best,” Nathan says, grinning. He hands his plate to Clara and jogs over, grabbing one of Fisher's bags and sniffing. “Have you been hugging that dog again?”

I make my face a blank slate and walk a little faster, hoping to avoid a question I know is coming.

“Why?” Fisher asks, eyes narrowing.

Nathan sniffs him again and wrinkles his nose. “You smell of dog.”

“And the reason you’re telling me this now?”

Nathan pats him on the arm, causing him to sway, then quickly catches him to prevent him from falling. “Because now you know what we are.”

“And did I always smell of dog?” Fisher asks him, glancing at me.

“Yup.” Nathan jogs away with both of Fisher’s bags, leaving me to face the music.

I widen my stride, moving faster. “I should probably hand out these chips to?—”

Fisher loops his arm around my waist and tugs me back. “Not so fast. You were being very polite with me, weren’t you?”

I search his expression, relieved he’s not offended. It can’t be the nicest thing in the world to be told you smell like a dog. “It’s not that bad, and I don’t mind it.”

My wolf makes her feelings known.

I tell her to shut it, especially with her habit of peeing on trees she wants everyone to know are hers.

He takes my bag from me despite my attempt to cling to it. “It’s not heavy.”

It’s just candy and family-size bags of chips. I could probably carry this bag in my sleep.

He kisses me. “Humor me, okay? I can’t have you holding a bag when I’m walking beside you with nothing.”

For a girl who's gotten used to watching out for herself these past few years, I won’t deny that it feels pretty damn good for someone to carry the load, no matter how light it may be.

“Okay.” I let him carry the bag, and we stroll back to the others.

Fisher keeps one arm around my waist as we walk. “What’s the dog smell like? Be honest. Don’t be afraid of hurting my feelings.”

I ponder it for a moment. “Kind of earthy, and a bit… meaty.”

He stops walking and looks down at me. “Shit. I have to stop hugging that dog.”

I laugh, and his expression softens. “You don’t do that enough.”

“What?”

His eyes flick to my mouth. “Smile. Laugh.”

“I do it more with you,” I admit.

“Good.” He grins.

“Hey, lovebirds. Food's up,” Marshall calls out, making everyone laugh.

Blushing, Fisher takes my hand and tugs me toward the others.

Later, we’re about to start a third—or is it fourth?—round of BBQ when the sound of a car pulling up grabs our attention and points it toward the house.

“Expecting anyone?” Jeremy, Savannah’s mate, asks with a frown.

When Kier kisses Hallee and gets up, it’s clear that whatever happened to this pack in the past has made them extremely edgy with new arrivals.

We spent a lot of time talking on the grass, and some of that discussion involved clearing up the misinformation I had about Dayne. Dayne did not kill his family, though he did kill their old alpha because he was the out-of-control one, not Dayne.

Dayne moves toward the house, his body language nothing less than protective. “Talis, grab Angel and Patrick and head for the forest. We’re going to…”

I don’t hear the rest of what he says.

The figure walking toward us is so familiar it hurts.

A shifter’s nose is her most powerful sense. I grew up knowing that. Certain of it.

Some scents are engraved in my soul.

The scent of home. Of family. Of the special days when you knew your place in the world and you fit right in it. For me, that place was a tiny corner of eastern Oklahoma, in a forest that Pack Rowe called home.

But it isn’t just scent that anchors me to the past and links me to memories I’ll never forget. Other things are unforgettable. Like the way someone walks. And the moment someone you believed to be dead suddenly appears.