THE WOLF'S DESTINY

Why, of all the godforsaken places in the United States, had Larissa, her loving sister, ended up dead? Perhaps that was the reason: it was remote, surrounded by forest, a haven from the harsh reality of the forced marriage, and secure from Bruin’s retribution should he have ever discovered her. She hadn’t been secure, though. She had since passed away. Lelandi Wildhaven must have been wrong when she thought she saw her cousin Ural slink into the woods in his wolf form out of the corner of her eye. In order to avoid alerting the gray lupus garou pack that a couple of reds had trespassed into their area, he wouldn’t be furious enough with her to shapeshift thus near to Silver Town. She pushed open the Silver Town Tavern’s hefty door, disregarding her gut feeling that this was a very bad idea. The rusted hinges’ screeching jarred her tense nerves. She was suddenly terrified that the five bearded men at the table, who had turned to look at her, had seen right through her disguise. Hating the way the fake spectacles kept slipping down the bridge of her nose, she pushed them back into position. Her head was partially engulfed by the worn-out cowboy hat she had purchased at a thrift store, giving the impression that she was a young child donning her father’s Stetson. Brass rods supporting amber glass lamps suspended in the air over softly lit dark oak tables and a long, Gleaming bar. The air was filled with wooden fan blades that were slowly whirling and reeked of gray lupus garou. Fresh awareness pricked her nerve endings. She suspected that the worn-out antique mirrors on the rear wall behind the bar had been silent witnesses to the events there for a very long time. What a tale those mirrors could tell if they had recorded every photo taken during the bar’s operation. A second bearded man who had been hiding behind the bar’s lip suddenly sprang up to his full six-foot-four height. He almost dropped the glass and dish towel he was holding as his admiring gaze surveyed every square inch of her. His lips slightly raised at the corners. His tanned complexion bore deep laugh lines, and his shaggy black hair reached his shoulders, giving him the look of a hardy mountain man unaccustomed to civilized trappings. The fact that he was gray, like the others who were drinking at the table, particularly troubled her. Like the pub back home, she had assumed it would be a human-run place frequented by lupus garous. He greete“ her warmly and asked, “What’ll you have, miss?” She hesitated because she anticipated a cold welcome from their kind—their species didn’t want strangers entering their midst, especially if they were human—and this was a place that was just for gray lupus garou. “Miss?” Please, bottled water. She had intended to sound tough in order to fit in with the setting. With her red hair colored black and the high-heeled boots giving the impression that she stood taller, more like them, she had planned to be someone different. She hid her blue contacts. Although having a clear difference in appearance—her eyes were greener and her hair was more red and less golden than her sister’s—she continued to feel like Lelandi, Larissa’s triplet. Has she been duped by her voice? The bartender’s slight smirk was more likely caused by the fact that the woman was a stranger who had unprotected into a wolf’s lair than by the fact that she had made herself obvious. She berated herself for not masking her voice more, but the bartender’s friendly approach gave her a false sense of security that, if she wasn’t careful, could have been fatal. She was given a large green glass and a chilled bottle of water by the bartender. New to the area? She paid for the water and added, “Just passing through.” “The name is Sam, miss. Just shout if you need anything. “Thanks.” It was not her style to holler for a drink. She picked a table that was partially concealed by shadows in the room’s farthest corner. This location would keep her away from the main flow of traffic, even though any of them could see in the dark just as well as she could. She wished to come across as unremarkable, unworthy of anyone’s inspection, and most importantly, human. Lelandi gave the door a quick peek. Her research indicated that Larissa’s widower mate Darien Silver should arrive shortly. Sam received some cash from one of the men when he got up from his seat. He gave Lelandi a small smile before sitting back down. Tiny for a gray, stocky, with dull brown hair, amber eyes, and garments that have a coating. He had a delicate, baby face made of dust. Had a cute, beta-wolf-like appearance. His cheeks were stained with dirt smudges, which he removed with the back of his denim shirtsleeve. He combed up his unkempt hair while keeping his gaze fixed on her and drank more beer. Sam walked over to Lelandi and gave her the money. “Miss, Joe Kelly bought your drink. He looks a little bit scruffy because he works in the silver mine. But he keeps up well. Sam smiled at her and went back to the bar. Should she decline Joe’s invitation? On the other hand, perhaps she could learn the truth more quickly if he had feelings for her. She mouthed, “Thank you,” to Joe Kelly, who felt his chest swell. The other guys began making low-pitched jokes about him. Joe’s ears’ tips darkened in color. The idea that Larissa had the gall to mate with a gray, especially considering that she already had a mate, made her gut clench. She had stated a desire to discover herself, and she succeeded. Six feet below. Lelandi couldn’t help but believe that it was her own fault since if she had gone in Larissa’s place or even fled with her, she could have managed to keep her safe. What about their parents, though? With her father being so ill, she couldn’t have abandoned them, but by golly, she hadn’t been able to shield them either. In any case, they had been killed. She forced back a shudder as she resented not having stopped any of it. Lelandi was going to track down her brother and their uncle and curse both of them for abandoning the family after learning what had happened to Larissa and burying the killer. The barkeep clinked some glasses, his gaze taking her in like a crafty old wolf’s. He probably was on the younger side of middle age but due to the beard, he seemed older. The smile still percolated on his lips. Trying to figure her out? Or did he realize what a phony she was? Hunting in the wild was nothing new, but hunting like this… She twisted the top off her bottled water and glanced down at her watch again. Only four twenty-five. “Waiting for someone?” Sam asked, one dark brow c****d. She shook her head. Her hat jiggled, her glasses slipped, and the annoying earrings danced. Two men appeared in front of one of the dingy tavern windows and then the door jerked open. Her heart skittered. “Hey, Sam! Bring us a pitcher of beer,” one of them called. About six-foot—as tall as her brother—with windswept shoulder-length dark hair and a newly started beard, his amber eyes hinted at cheerfulness and good-humor rang in his words. Both men wore leather jackets, plaid shirts, denims, cowboy hats, and boots, and they appeared to be twins. Multiple births abounded among lupus garous, so no surprise there. They looked like they were mid- to late- twenties and walked into the place like they owned the joint. “Jake, Tom.” Sam glanced in her direction, alerting Them to the presence of a stranger. She stiffened her back and gripped her glass tighter. Tom—his hair the lighter of the two, longer, curling around his broad shoulders, his face smooth as silk— fastened his gaze on her and raised his brows, tipped Back his Stetson, and grinned. Self-conscious, her whole body heated and alarm bells rang. Keep a low profile! Tom took a deep breath as if he were love-struck. “The place looks a might better tonight, Sam. Done some nice redecorating.” The bearded one furrowed his dark brows. “Didn’t you tell her it’s a private club and no matter what, that table is reserved?” “Bending the rules today. First come, first served.” Sam grinned and winked at Lelandi. Damn. Was this where Darien normally sat? She thought he’d sit in the center, so everyone could see their leader. That’s the way Bruin did it back home. Now what? Move? To where? If she moved to the table across from Darien’s, she feared she’d draw too much attention. Not that she expected anyone to hurt her here, but she had thought she’d be able to keep a low profile. The tables situated on the other side of the bar sat in front of the restrooms. Anywhere else was too near the front door or in the middle of the floor, and no matter what, she wanted to have her back to the wall. She wasn’t leaving until she’d had a chance to observe the leader and as many of his pack members as she could, any one of whom might have murdered Larissa. Tom grabbed the pitcher of beer and a glass. “Come on, Jake. Change is good for the soul.” He stalked over to the table opposite her and sat where he could see both the front door and, most of all, her. Immersed in a goldfish bowl, she wondered what had made her think she could enter the wolves’ lair without arousing suspicion. Jake sat with his back to the wall to have a better view of the door. If he wanted to look her over, he’d have to turn his head and be pretty obvious about it. He did. The expression on his face was dark and foreboding. Gone was the humor his features had held when he first walked into the place. Laughing and boisterous, three more men barged into the tavern, glanced to where Jake and Tom sat, then shifted their attention to Lelandi. Which meant what? That Jake and Tom normally sat with Darien at the table where she was now sitting? Terrific! “Howdy, boys,” the older bearded man of the group said, nodding a greeting. The other two were nearly as old, gray streaking their brown beards, their gazes pinned on her. “Bring us the usual, Sam.” He turned to Jake and pointed his head at her. “He know about this?” “Still giving orders at the factory, Mason,” Tom said. The bearded man grumbled, “Fourth of July’s coming for a second time this year.” Figuring she’d be better off sitting next to the rest- rooms to lessen the chance of creating fireworks, Lelandi grabbed her purse. The door banged open again. The chatter died. As soon as she saw him, she knew it was him—not only because silence instantly cloaked the room and every eye in the place watched Darien Silver’s reaction. His sable hair curled at the top edge of his collar. Brooding dark eyes, grim lips, features handsomely rugged, but definitely hard, defined him. Wearing a leather jacket, western shirt, jeans, and boots, everything was as black as his somber mood. He looked so much like Tom and Jake, she figured they must be triplets, and he was the leader of the gray lupus garou in the area. Had to be, the way everyone watched him, waiting for the fireworks. Something about him stirred her blood, something akin to recognition, yet she’d never seen him before in her life. It wasn’t his face, or clothes, or body that stimulated some deep memory—but the way he moved— commanding, powerful, with an effortless grace. He glanced at the barkeep and gave a nod of greeting—sullen, silent, still in mourning for his mate? If he discovered why Lelandi was here, he’d be pissed. A shiver trickled down her spine. She released her purse and kept her seat, for the moment. Everyone was acting so oddly, she imagined that was the reason he quickly surveyed the current seating arrangement. When His eyes lit on her, incredulity registered. Crap! He recognized her; she just knew it. Didn’t matter that she had dyed her hair this horrible color that didn’t do anything for her fair skin, or that her eyes were now blue. Didn’t matter that the heavy padded leather jacket gave her broader shoulders and made her appear heavier, or that she wore her hair straight as blades of uncut grass, compliments of a hair straightening iron, when her sister’s and hers was naturally curly. She couldn’t hide the shape of her face or eyes or mouth. All of them mirrored her sister’s looks. Then again, his look was puzzled. The hat and glasses appeared to confuse him. Maybe the fact that she wore the faux pierced earrings that looked like the real thing did too. She was the first to break eye contact, her hands shaking and her skin perspiring. He was a bigger wolf than she was, by God. Used to working with—taller and with broad shoulders. His guilty determination prevented him from averting his gaze from her or making a concession. It is understandable why Larissa was drawn to the attention-grabbing gray. Lelandi couldn’t help but ponder the experience of having a romp with a boisterous wolf like him. Yet, damned if it hadn’t resulted to Larissa’s death. Keep company with those of your own type, as her father would have advised. No humans; only the red type of lupus garou. No one raised a cup to take a sip of their beverage, and not a single person moved. She fought the need to swallow and pushed herself to look at Darien to see what he was doing right then. I’m still fixated on her. She desired to disappear into the ground like hot day mop water. She clinched her teeth, picked up her glass of water, and took another gulp, praying nerves wouldn’t cause her to unintentionally choke on the ice drink. But before leaving Silver Town, she had to get revenge on Larissa’s killer. Sam gave a shoulder shrug and handed Darien an empty glass as he caught his attention. She had to be moved if Darien wanted her out of his chair. Macho gang leaders had to assert their authority and ensure that no one, especially women, could overshadow them in their region. None were more well-known for it than Lupus Garous. Unless another lupus garou was successfully trying to take over the pack, no one ever challenged them and won. She didn’t belong to his pack. She was a woman. She also wasn’t gray. Even worse, she reminded him of his deceased mate. On the other hand, he didn’t seem to be certain of what he was seeing. Once more, she was the focus of frigid eyes that also showed sadness. He swung the glass off the table and strode over to where Jake and Tom were sitting. Darien was able to get a better view of her and the entryway when he persuaded Tom to relocate to the chair with his back to the door. If the pack leader was watching her, how could she observe the other members of the pack? She was certain he could still smell her terror at this moment. She reassured herself that she didn’t fear him, but any Lupus Garou worth his pelt would be cautious when approaching a pack leader. She remained in her seat, frozen with indecision. Let him believe that she was too terrified to get up from her chair—or his chair, for that matter. A woman wearing mid-thigh leather boots and short shorts with a turtleneck top entered the tavern for the first time this evening. Her sable hair was piled on top of her head in whirls of dark curls. One of the four men seated at the bar whistled and shouted, “Hey, Silva.” Looks good. She flashed him a dazzling red-lipped grin before casting a quick glance Lelandi’s way. Her expression revealed her amazement. Silva’s focus changed, and she noticed Darien close by. She said something to Sam while crouching down at the bar so the boys could see her ass better. He turned to face Lelandi. Yes, she was certain to come up in conversation this evening. Sam gave a shrug. Silva, you’re drawing a sizable crowd tonight. Why not check to see if the boss needs another beer? Tom raised the drained pitcher. Need to restock. It appears that the lady needs another drink. Lelandi sunk into her seat, wishing she could be anywhere except under the spotlight. Silva grinned sourly at her. “Oh, well, it appears that word has spread to many far locations. I imagine it won’t be long until the place is swarming with— Sam pounded the counter with a pitcher of beer. Silva, look after the customers and be kind. She gave him a smirk before grabbing the pitcher. That’s what you pay me for, sir, boss. She delivered the beer to Darien’s table with a swing of her hips before grinning broadly at him. “All right, boss. Whistle if you require more. Without saying anything, Darien simply sat back in his chair and turned to face Lelandi. Silva scowled and moved toward Lelandi’s desk. Need another bottle of water, please? Drink time has come. Have some margaritas? Lelandi spoke quietly, but not quietly enough. Tom swallowed his beer hard. A few of the patrons at the pub laughed. Sam grinned as he poured a man a drink of whisky. I’m not sure, sugar. Silva then looked at Sam. Hey Sam, fancy cocktails for a visitor from out of town? How about a margarita? She uttered the phrase as if she were referring to a cute female name. More giggles followed. “I can make anything the little lady wants,” you say. Little. She was well described by that. The size of a red lupus garou female at five four. Her seat was higher. Is that what you want, Miss…? Silva drew it out and questioned, looking for a name. Thank you. “Yeah.” Goodness, dang it. In front of the grays, Lelandi wished to project a more intimidating appearance. What did she do after practicing endlessly? Acted like a damned squeaking mouse. As she was used to being with people of her own kind, she rarely felt intimidated. Double black belts in jujitsu and kung fu helped her feel more at ease with brutish people. Yet, these people were neither human nor of her own type, and if she gave them the chance, a pack of them could eat her alive. Lelandi was once again certain that she was about to be exposed as the woman drew in closer. Silva inhaled, her brown eyes growing droopy. Lelandi hoped no one could smell that she was a lupus garou and not one of their own kind, despite the fact that she was wearing a ton of ostentatious human perfumes and, of course, the stench from the recent dye job—despite the fact that she had tried to mask that smell by washing her hair in strawberry shampoo. It appeared that it had failed. Good, good, good. Silva shifted her weight forward. Sam, please make the lady a margarita. Tom spoke out, “Put the first on my tab.” “I wouldn’t want the lady to think we’re just a bunch of grumpy old coots,” the man said. Silva responded, “The second one is on me.” As much of a beta wolf as he appeared to be, the miner Joe Kelly appeared sad that he hadn’t spoken out first, but he probably wouldn’t say anything to irritate Darien. The only exceptions would be Darien’s brothers, and Silva appeared to be free to act whenever she chose. Darien remained silent. His simple gaze conveyed control; he was dangerous and unlikely to agitate others. More than any words, his actions—or lack thereof—spoke for themselves. The tavern would have been covered with blustered by Bruin. In place of Darien. If she had stolen his seat, Bruin would have instantly called her out, humiliated her, and physically thrown her out of the establishment to show that he was the pack leader and that no one would defy him. But even a single glower from Darien represented a grave threat, and she would be well to pay attention to it. Everyone was enthralled by the explanation for Silva’s interest in Lelandi. They must have assumed Silva knew something about her. Silva appeared delighted by the fact that Lelandi was a red lupus garou posing as a person. Lelandi at least thought the woman had discovered her. Where are you staying, sweetheart? Silva’s tone was considerably more soothing, and the sweetness was artificial. The unexpected frog in Lelandi’s throat was expelled. “On my way through.” Silence. The woman’s eyes grew gloomy, and she sent a fleeting glance Darien’s way. He was staring at Lelandi with widening eyes. s**t. The way she spoke, the tone, something must have reminded her of Larissa this time. While Sam whipped up Lelandi’s margarita, there was quiet talk at the table across from Darien’s and among the grays at the bar, but no one said a word at Darien’s table. The situation repeated again until the establishment was busy and rowdy. More customers entered the pub, all hoping to welcome their leader. However, when they saw a dead ringer for his slain mate sitting at his normal table, they turned to see Darien. Yet, nobody ventured to eat at her table. God is good. She couldn’t hear the gist of the more crucial conversations because they were held low, but she only needed to hear the beginning. Identify the words being spoken. The clone of a dead sister appears at the grays’ hangout to exact retribution. Everyone of them would be trembling in their boots. Right. Lelandi finished her margarita and immediately felt the need to go the restroom. The atmosphere had become extremely warm, so she shed her jacket. Huge error. The moment they realized how small she was, the room fell silent once more. Lelandi was expecting another bottle of water, but Silva rushed over with another margarita for her. This time the woman actually said, “On me, honey.” Even in her four-inch heels, she was short for a gray woman, standing at almost five feet ten. “Thanks.” The woman’s expression sank when Lelandi stood up, perhaps believing that she was being snubbed for the drink and that Lelandi intended to depart. I need to use the girls’ bathroom. “Oh.” Silva’s lips raised just a little. “That way back,” She made a hand motion. “Thanks.” When everyone started acting so curious about her, Lelandi had never given any thought to how it might feel to go through the tavern to the women’s restroom. She walked to the bathroom with her chin c****d up, shoulders straight back, and body ten degrees hotter than usual. Several males gave each other friendly head nods. A few of them respectfully removed their cowboy hats. Yet, nobody grinned—not even Joe this time, as would be expected. Most would give her a quick once-over before their pack leader made her feel welcome, but they wouldn’t do anything to be excessively kind. If Sam revealed to Joe that the miner had paid for her first drink, Darien would likely confront him. She was being frowned at by three women who were sat at one of the larger tables with several men and looked like they wanted her dead. Has someone actually killed Larissa like they threatened to do? Without glancing at them, Lelandi entered the bathroom, but as soon as she sat down in a stall, she heard the door to the outside squeak open. Her body went rigid. She realized it was too late to stop the danger she was going to face. When she exited the restroom, the three women were waiting for her with slightly evil smiles on their faces. They were all in their mid-twenties, had dark hair, and were probably all vying to be Darien’s new partner and scared that she was new competition. When Lelandi came up with this scheme to discover her Larissa’s killer, she had no idea that anyone would think she would be interested in hunting the pack leader. The idea of really mating with a bigger gray seemed intriguing. She gave a mental headshake. What’s your name? the woman in the cowl-neck sweater and jeans said, her western boot thudding on the tile floor her voice intimidating. Her amber eyes narrowed, her orange-painted lips curled in an ugly way, and she took a long breath, trying to smell Lelandi or whatever she was. Lelandi thought for a moment that her face may horribly freeze in that way. Someone remarked, “You’re not one of us and you’re not from around here.” Hey Ritka, what say we give her a nice send-off? The shortest one, who despite being shorter than Lelandi by several inches, said. Lelandi brushed passed her to wash her hands. Don’t plan on sticking, b***h, a meatier one hissed, flailing her waist-length, muddy-colored hair around. She spoke while encircling Lelandi. She was bigger than the other two and would be challenging to overcome if she engaged them in a fight to become Darien’s b***h. Lelandi was finding it difficult to maintain her composure because she was no longer being bothered by red-colored female lupus garou. “Avoid making long-term plans to stay. If you’re interested, I’m just taking care of some little family business. Red, we know you, and you can’t have him “Lelandi’s breathing space was being invaded by Ritka’s whiskey breath as she hissed in her ear. You are knowledgeable about what happened with the other. Get out of here, honey, before it happens to you as well. Although her blood was boiling, Lelandi attempted to wash her hands as if the women didn’t exist. The short one bit into Lelandi’s shoulder, tearing the leather handbag strap. “Explain yourself to us.” Ritka growled, “As if the b***h would say, Angelina, when she’s in this silly disguise.” Despite the pain of frustration in her temples, Lelandi washed the soap from her hands and bit back the feral side of her wolf nature that was trying to emerge. Not helping her cause would be beating up three female grays. Ritka bumped into her, possibly as a result of the other person grabbing her pocketbook and escalating the conflict. Lelandi grit her teeth against taking offense. She reminded herself that nothing they did was significant enough to arouse her. Lelandi’s hair was caught by the hefty one, who pulled firmly. Men dislike coloured hair, didn’t you know that? Lelandi’s scalp tore in anguish as she slowly counted to 10, wanting to avoid physical contact but preparing for quick reprisal if anyone did. Ritka laughed sharply, “You got it right, Hosstene,” and grabbed a fistful of Lelandi’s hair. Enough! Lelandi judo-chipped Hosstene in the throat with a swift, well-placed jab, elbowed Angelina in the stomach, turned around, and rammed her fist into Ritka’s eye. Lelandi, whose heart was beating, grabbed a paper towel, cleaned her hands, and walked out of the restroom while they were gasping and swearing. She had already invited problems.