“It’s only dangerous if we lose control. And I never lose control.” But Jamie was right. It was foolish to come here, especially when he was worked up over that woman and her irresistible scent.
Humans tended to fear that which was different or what they didn’t understand. And when they feared something, they lashed out and demonized it. It was a defensive measure that kept them alive when the world was dark and everything wanted to kill and eat them. For generations, the wolf shifters in the mountains had been the bogeymen of the villagers, blamed for every little fire, unexplained fatality, and missing sheep.
During the Jacobite Rising and the ensuing unwelcome changes to the way of life of all Scots, shifters and humans realized they needed to band together if they were going to survive and keep their lands out of the greedy, grasping hands of the bloody English. These days, there was still some separation between his pack and the villagers, but that peace and interdependence remained.
It wasn’t always smooth-going. Some days, maintaining good relations between the pack and the locals was like climbing Ben Nevis backwards, blindfolded in the rain. With a single misstep, any one of the wolves could erase that delicate balance, including himself. But it was worth the effort. As the world shrank and surveillance techniques became not only more sophisticated but ever-present in their lives, more and more humans would come to learn that monsters did truly live among them. They needed to know that not all of them werebloodthirsty, amoral creatures. Some could be quite pleasant once you got to know them.
His fellow shifters, for example. Sure, they changed into massive predators with teeth to slice and claws to rend, but they were also teachers, firefighters, bakers, and librarians. Productive members of society, not mindless killing machines. And if their alternate selves happened to be revealed to everyone someday, it would be nice if their fellow villagers didn’t immediately pick up pitchforks and torches.
His daughter agreed. So much so that she was on a campaign to convince him that turning several of the outbuildings into holiday cottages would be a marvelous way to show everyone that the members of the Wolfcraig pack weren’t terrible, slavering monsters, just people living their lives, same as them. But it was a step too far in his opinion. Despite his daughter’s best efforts, he wasn’t on board with outsiders tromping around his home and lands.
Jamie harrumphed and leaned back in the booth.
“For fuck’s sake. Quit fretting like a broody chicken and drink your beer. The music’s about to start.”
Jamie gave him a long look. “On your head be it. But I’m not leaving you. Tonight is not the time for you to be going all lone wolf.”
Overprotective bastard, Torin thought with a shake of his head as Keith, the fiddle player and session leader, called the first tune. It wasn’t necessary, though he appreciated his beta having his back.
The players were finishing up their first set when she entered the pub from the back. His inner wolf came to attention. Gail had a few rooms for rent upstairs; that’s where she must have gone. He made a note to have a little chat with the pub’s proprietor.
Sophie wore a green cowl-neck sweater and dark wash jeans that hugged her curves. Her thick red hair had been freed fromits braid and twisted up into a messy bun on top of her head. A pair of glasses with cobalt blue frames perched on her snub nose. She was just tall enough for him to keep an eye on her as she worked her way through the crowd, but he almost bolted from his seat when she disappeared behind a pair of burly farm boys for a moment before reappearing.
He leaned forward, his fingers tightening on his glass. Jamie raised his eyebrows in askance, but Torin shook his head. How could he explain his reaction to the redhead when it wasn’t something he’d ever experienced before? It was as if a seismic shift had just rumbled his entire world, turning it completely upside down.
Our mate, his inner wolf whispered, locking in on her as she accepted a pint of amber-colored beer from Gail with a grin. She leaned an elbow on the bar, her head bobbing in time to the music. A drunk guy bumped into her, sending her beer sloshing down the front of her sweater.
It took everything he had not to leap over the crowd, rip out the throat of the stupid man who’d dared to touch her, and sweep her into his embrace. Torin’s suddenly too-sharp nails dug furrows in the tabletop as he tried to control his instincts.
“Alpha,” Jamie hissed. “The fuck is wrong with you?”
“You’re right.” Torin made a concerted effort to calm down, slowly counting to ten. Then twenty. He did not need to be losing control in here, no matter the reason. Picking up his beer, he drained it and set the empty glass back on the table with a thunk. “We shouldn’t be here. Meet me outside.”
“We’re leaving?”
He grunted in the affirmative, his eyes laser-focused on Sophie.
After motioning for the pair of farm boys to escort the drunk outside, Gail handed her a clean bar towel, said something he couldn’t hear over the din, and pointed around the corner. Witha nod, Sophie took it with a grateful nod, wiping the beer from her sweater as she disappeared down the corridor towards the toilets.
“There’s something I need to do first,” he said.
5
SOPHIE
At least beer doesn’t stain, Sophie thought as she dabbed at her sweater with the towel Gail gave her. And luckily she’d packed more than enough that she didn’t have to worry about one dirty piece of clothing.
Setting the towel on the counter, she washed her hands and took a deep breath. So far, this vacation was throwing everything it could at her: a spooky train station, a missing ride that left her stuck in town rather than snuggled into her rented cottage, a truly weird interaction with an attractive man, topped off with an unexpected beer bath. If she didn’t know any better, she might think something was telling her she wasn’t welcome here. But that reaction was ridiculous, a cobwebbed remnant of her time with an ex-boyfriend who enjoyed making her feel off-balance and uncomfortable in her own skin. She hadn’t known how manipulative that bastard John had been until she put some space between them.
These days, she was free and in control of her own fate. What had happened on her trip so far were minor bumps on the road. There were much worse things in the world. And how could she complain, really? She was in the Scottish Highlands, in anadorable pub filled with great music and cheerful people. She was living her dream.
Slicking a little cherry chapstick on her lips and tucking back a few loose strands of hair, she gave an encouraging nod to her reflection and walked out of the bathroom with her head held high.
And straight into a hard, broad chest. Again. “Oh, shit. Sorry,” she said as she bounced back with a wobble.
Strong hands reached out to steady her, the warmth of his grip bleeding through the cotton knit of her sweater. She looked up to see the man who’d smelled her earlier.Still one of the weirder things to ever happen to me, she thought, licking her lips.
His dark eyes followed the path of her tongue as a low growl rumbled in his chest.
