Protecting the Wolf's Mate (Blood Moon Brotherhood) Read online

  “More spaghetti?” Anders, the pack’s resident cook and funny man, shoved the mountain of pasta at Mal—who ignored him.

  As much as he disliked being drawn into other people’s business, he felt for Olivia. She was new to this. Her life before becoming a wolf had been fairly sheltered. But once she’d been turned, everything she thought she knew was a lie. And Mal, her mate, was an ass. Their bond was still being forged. Mal had killed Byron today—to save Olivia. An event that had obviously scared the shit out of them both.

  Mal stared at Olivia.

  Olivia, ramrod stiff and pale, stared at her food.

  Yea, they weren’t dealing well with the day’s events. But, dammit, it was over. He was tired and hungry and irritated that this was somehow his problem. A man should be able to eat in peace without feeling like he was sitting on a powder keg. Especially after the day they’d all had. He wanted his spaghetti and beer and no more goddamn drama.

  Which was going to be downright impossible because Olivia was crying. At the table. In front of everyone. Shit.

  “Olivia?” Anders patted her back. “You okay?”

  She sniffed and nodded.

  Which was a blatant lie. If she were okay, she wouldn’t be sobbing into her dinner. He liked Olivia, even if she did have questionable choices in her mate. A mate who was sitting there, doing nothing, while she cried. He sighed, glancing Finn’s way, then Ellen’s—desperate for someone to help her.

  “Does she look okay?” Ellen asked.

  “No?” Anders answered, panicked.

  “Killing someone is hard,” Ellen answered. “Especially the first time.”

  Hollis glanced at Olivia then, truly sympathetic. Killing, for Olivia, would be hard every time. She wasn’t made for it. She should never have had to do it. She and Jessa were…gentle.

  “Y-yes.” Olivia sniffed, hesitating before adding. “It is. But I’m fine.”

  “She was amazing,” Dante attempted a compliment. “As soon as that gun went off, she was on him. Saved Mal’s ass.”

  “I’m fine,” she repeated.

  If Hollis had needed evidence that Olivia wasn’t fine, that was it. His gaze crashed into Ellen, but she shook her head—nodding pointedly at Mal. She was right. Mal could fix this, he needed to. The sooner the better.

  “Leave her alone.” Mal’s growl silenced the room.

  “I don’t need you to talk for me.” At least she wasn’t crying anymore. Anger coated every word.

  He sat back, watching the couple with interest. The whole bond-pairing thing was still a fairly new occurrence for their pack. He’d yet to truly study the dynamics of a mated pair. Since there seemed to be no way of avoiding their altercation, this was as good a time as any to start.

  Mal’s eyes narrowed.

  But Olivia didn’t back down. “Or make decisions for me. Or lie to me. Or…or leave me when you swore, you promised, you never would. I’m fine.”

  Score one for Olivia. Mal was a fuck-up. They all knew it. Sadly, Olivia was just figuring it out.

  All eyes swung to Mal, the energy in the room charged. He wasn’t the only one watching with interest. Mal was floundering, squirming under the microscope. It was awesome.

  “Olivia,” Mal said in a low voice, awkward and tight. “Let’s go talk—”

  “Somewhere private?” Olivia shook her head. “I don’t think being alone with you is a good idea.”

  Hollis grinned. The idea of Olivia unleashing her wrath on Mal was sort of comical. Mal radiated threat. Anders’s chuckle turned into a smothered cough.

  “You’re mad?” Mal ground out.

  Hollis almost laughed this time.

  Olivia stared at her mate, stunned. “That is one of the many emotions I’m experiencing.”

  Mal’s nostrils flared. “My day hasn’t been a fucking picnic, either.”

  “No?” Her voice shook.

  Hollis had never seen Mal like this. Raw and…vulnerable. He didn’t understand it. Olivia was a wolf. She was naive and a little too trusting, but according to Ellen, she was a very capable, very lethal, wolf. If Mal doubted that, why had he fucking turned her? It had to be the whole mate thing—something he hoped he never understood. If somehow, he fell victim to a mate, he’d make damn sure the rest of the pack didn’t know about every bump or snag in their relationship.

  “No.” The word erupted from Mal, grabbing the attention of every person in the room. “Once I knew you were in danger, I couldn’t get back here fast enough.” Mal pushed out of his chair and stalked around the table. “I didn’t give a shit about anything but you. And it scared the shit out of me. Be pissed. Yell at me. Do whatever you need to do. But don’t expect me to let you out of my sight again.” He leaned forward, his hands gripping the chair. “I can’t go through that again.”

  That should do it. Now everyone could get back to eating.

  A ragged sob slipped from Olivia.

  Or not. Hollis sighed, holding in his breath. No more speeches or declarations, please. He’d met his quota for emotional duress before noon and his patience not too long after.

  Thankfully, Mal had always been an action man—something Hollis was incredibly grateful of at that moment. Mal scooped Olivia up and carried from the dining room, the distant slam of their bedroom door effectively ending the evening’s drama. He hoped.

  At least it was over. Hollis spun a healthy heaping of spaghetti onto his fork.

  “Maybe I don’t want a mate,” Anders murmured, returning to his meal with gusto.

  Exactly. Hollis swallowed down his pasta and went back for more.

  Finn laughed. “It doesn’t work that way.”

  And that was the part that troubled Hollis. He’d already lost his free will when Finn turned him. If Finn ever played the Alpha card, Hollis had no choice. But not choosing the person he’d spend his life with? Having some uncontrollable urge pick for him? It bothered the hell out of him.

  “Not like there are a lot of choices,” Anders said, his gaze bouncing around the table. He paused when he reached Ellen. Ellen, who was staring at him. “I mean, no offense, Ellen, but—”

  “None taken,” Ellen said, swirling her fork in her spaghetti. “I fear you wouldn’t survive.” Her eyes narrowed slightly, every bit the predator assessing her prey.

  Hollis smiled.

  Anders chuckled.

  “Besides, now that the baby’s here, she’ll be leaving. Not exactly mate material,” Dante said, his eyes on his plate.

  Ellen glanced at him then, her mismatched gaze holding his for an instant. Finn said that wasn’t going to happen—not yet. But Ellen was stubborn, she wouldn’t give up. Try as he might, he couldn’t imagine the pack without her. But keeping her here wouldn’t be easy. Finding a mate here would take care of that. He swallowed, set his fork on his plate, and glanced at Anders, then Dante. Either choice was a recipe for disaster. Then again, both Mal’s and Finn’s restlessness had been tempered when they found their mates. Not that he could imagine the same happening to Ellen.

  What sort of mate would she be?

  Hollis had spent the last ten years watching them all shift. His heart murmur was a blessing and curse. Not being able to shift took some pressure off. But sitting back while his family faced danger over and over, while he was left in his human form—and a liability in action—sucked. He stayed in shape, working out tirelessly to keep his body in peak condition. And weapons? Gentry put him through his paces. Sometimes he’d drag his ass out of bed at three in the morning just to test him. Knives, guns, explosives, staying light on his feet and senses sharp—that was all he could do so he did it. But he still couldn’t shift. Ten years of being infected but never shifting. Or meeting his wolf—if he had one.

  “Jessa sleeping?” Hollis asked, eager to shift gears.

  Finn nodded, glancing at the door. “Kids, too.”

  “How’s it feel, man? Married and two kids. And, you know, the whole Alpha thing.” Anders shook his head. “Talk about r
esponsibility.”

  Finn didn’t seem to mind. He looked happy. Even knowing there was a pack of bloodthirsty fuckers eager to hunt them down—Finn was happy.

  “It agrees with you,” Ellen said, biting off a hunk of garlic bread. “How a man bears his responsibility reveals his potential for leadership.”

  Finn sat back. “I’m pretty sure that was a compliment.” His pale-blue eyes regarded Ellen.

  Hollis bristled.

  “It won’t happen again.” Her finely arched brows rose, the intricate tattoo framing the corner of her eye raising, too.

  Hollis couldn’t hold back his smile. She was fearless.

  “I’m too tired to think of a good comeback to that.” Finn shook his head. “I’m gonna crash before someone wakes up.”

  “Let me know when Jessa’s up. I’d like to assess her and the baby,” he said.

  “Will do.” Finn nodded, carried his plate to the kitchen, then disappeared down the other end of the hall.

  Ellen stood, unfolding herself from her chair and moving silently across the floor.

  Three pairs of eyes followed her. She was mesmerizing to watch. The illusion of femininity. Graceful, agile, and lethal in a way that both terrified and impressed him.

  “Up for some pool?” Anders asked her. His attempts to teach Ellen had ended with her breaking two pool sticks—one over Anders head. He had to give Anders props for his determination.

  Ellen shook her head.

  “Poker?” Anders asked.

  She shook her head again. “I need to hit something.”

  “Hollis is free,” Dante muttered, making both he and Anders laugh out loud.

  Ellen was smiling when she looked his way. “Are you?” she asked. “I promise not to hit too hard.”

  The spark in her gaze should have warned him away. She was agitated and restless. A dangerous combination.

  “No?” Ellen asked. “I didn’t think so.”

  She could goad all she wanted. He wouldn’t take the bait.

  Her smile grew.

  Dammit. He stood, carrying his plate into the kitchen. “We can work out. I’ll change and meet you in the gym.”

  Ellen was laughing when she left the kitchen.

  “What the fuck, man?” Dante asked. “You know she doesn’t fight fair.”

  “We’re working out, not fighting,” he answered.

  “Right.” They snorted in unison.

  He ignored the back-and-forth between Anders and Dante. He didn’t know why the hell had he just agreed to this. Maybe it was the taunt in her eyes, daring him? Maybe he was just as wound up as she was? Maybe he enjoyed her company? Maybe he was an idiot.

  Chapter Five

  The gym was eighty degrees. Ellen wasn’t a fan, but the pack liked sweating it out. A phrase she had yet to understand. There was so much she still didn’t understand about this pack. Namely, why they acted like being a wolf was wrong. It was a gift, not a curse. And they’d be that much more powerful when they realized it.

  That Hollis thought he could cure them was…infuriating.

  She rolled her neck, stretched her arms over her head, and bent low to touch her toes. The tug and burn of her muscles felt good. So did slamming her fists into the punching bag that hung from the ceiling. It wasn’t the same as striking flesh. No, hitting a body was different. The impact absorption was all wrong. But it would have to do. For now. Over and over, she kept up a steady rhythm until her blood hummed and her skin warmed.

  “Don’t need me after all,” Hollis said from behind her.

  She wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand and turned to face him. That was her first mistake. Hollis, pressed and starched and buttoned-up, was the norm. Today had been anything but normal. First the white undershirt, now this. His gray wicking T-shirt stretched to accommodate the impressive expanse of his chest and arms. His thighs, equally impressive, were hidden beneath long black running pants. Even his athletic shoes were appealing.

  Not appealing. Sexy.

  Logically, she knew her reaction had nothing to do with Hollis. No, he was simply the catalyst for the frustration and unspent aggression piling up from the course of the day. But that didn’t do much to ease the very real thrum and throb building within her.

  He waited, arms crossed over his chest, for her answer.

  “I can find a use for you,” she murmured, swallowing down the lump in her throat. Her mind was imagining all sorts of uses.

  A slight furrow formed between his copper brows. “Such as.”

  She bit, hard, into her lip. So many words threatened to spill out. “Warm up, first?” He argued he had no wolf, but Ellen sensed its presence, just beneath the surface. His wolf needed an outlet. This should work for both of them. “Up for sparring?”

  “You promise not to kill me?” His smile, oh, his smile.

  “I’ll make no such promise.” She turned back to the punching bag, so he didn’t realize she was staring. Her knuckles throbbed from the power she packed into her punch.

  She would not be ruled by her basic instincts. If Cyrus had taught her nothing else, he’d taught her control. No matter what he’d done to her, how he’d tormented her, she’d learned to box up her reactions. And now, when her mind was buzzing with rather disturbing and arousing images of Hollis, there was so much to box up.

  “Mal and Olivia,” Hollis said. “That normal?”

  She gritted her teeth. “Only if one partner is an ass.” And yet, watching Mal come apart in front of his pack had made him infinitely more understandable. He had been through hell at the hands of the Others. That was why he was so protective of Olivia. He couldn’t bear thinking about what they’d do if they ever captured her.

  “He is,” Hollis agreed. “But he is loyal.”

  She nodded. “A good trait for a wolf.” She pounded the bag again, rapid jabs and punches. “Their offspring will be well-balanced. Insightful and fierce.”

  “Offspring?” Hollis groaned. “Mal’s still buying condoms in bulk.”

  Ellen laughed. “Good. True mates should take the time to learn how to truly please each other.” A flash of Hollis, nostrils flared and jaw locked in passion, flashed through her mind. “Disagreements are often forgotten when you’ve a partner who makes you scream out your release.”

  Hollis’s muffled curse drew her gaze his way.

  “What?” she asked, draping an arm around the bag for support.

  His green eyes flashed. “Nothing.”

  “Then let’s get started.” She pushed off the bag and walked toward him.

  His jaw tensed. “I’ve never hit a woman.” He shook his head.

  “Don’t think of me as a woman,” she argued.

  He snorted. “Impossible.”

  Interesting. She paused, hands on hips. “Why?”

  His gazes swept her from head to bare toes. “I’m not blind.”

  His confession only stoked the sensations she was struggling to hide. “That’s what you see when you look at me?”

  His green eyes locked with hers. “A woman?” He swallowed. “Yes. That’s what I see.”

  If she listened, she could hear the erratic thump of his heart. His pulse galloped along, the beat visible in his throat. Apparently, he wasn’t as immune to her as he pretended to be. Her wolf was delighted. Stupid animal. “Think of me as a worthy opponent instead.”

  “I know you’re a worthy opponent. I know you want to kick my ass.” He sighed. “But I can’t fight back.”

  The spark in his eyes was a serious threat to her calm. Even if he was attracted to her, he’d never do a thing about it. Which was good. And insanely frustrating.

  “Fine.” She spun away from him, collecting the sparring mitts from the rack on the wall and tossing them his way. “Don’t complain if any bones are broken.”

  When he shook his head, his disheveled auburn hair bounced, playful and young. And his grin, one corner cocking up as he tugged on the mitts, only added to the whole boyish c
harm. But his rock-hard, cut body said otherwise. “I don’t complain.”

  “Is that a challenge?” she asked, barely waiting for him to get the other mitt on before landing a solid blow in his right palm.

  “No.” He laughed, shaking his hand. “Hell no.”

  She ignored him, focusing on her footwork, the angle of her strikes, the strength of her core. The flex of his jaw was not distracting. Neither was the soft grunt he made when she landed a powerhouse hit. She tried not to notice the slight narrowing of his green gaze. The flared nostrils. And his bewitching scent of sweat and man.

  Her fist sailed past the sparring mitt and into his gorgeous clenched jaw.

  “Fuck,” he snapped, glaring at her.

  “You moved,” she lied.

  “I didn’t realize you wanted me to stand still.” He was angry.

  Let him be angry. “You were distracting me.” Her fist slammed into the sparring mitt, a quick one-two combo raining down so fast he stepped back.

  “By breathing?” he asked.

  There was no way to answer that. Not honestly. Being distracted by Hollis simply being wasn’t something she was willing to share with him.

  “That’s the second time you’ve punched me in the face today,” he grumbled.

  “You said you didn’t complain.” Her laugh was breathy.

  “I’m stating facts. Not complaining.”

  “I’ll aim for another part next time. Your side?” She faked her next throw. “Stomach, perhaps.”

  “I’m betting it’s hard for you to keep sparring partners.” He shook his head.

  She burst out laughing, too surprised to stop herself.

  He shook off the mitts, wiped his hands on a towel, and headed for the weight machine.

  “We’re done?” she asked, still laughing.

  “I am,” he ground out, already adjusting the machine.

  “Spoil sport.” Any other insult died a quick death the moment Hollis flexed. There wasn’t a single thing she could do about the staring now. The corded muscles, rippling and flexing beneath the weight, were truly a thing of beauty. That this Hollis was the same man she’d spent so many hours alongside was hard to reconcile.