McQuade: The Lone Wolf Takes a Mate Read online

  McQUADE: THE LONE WOLF TAKES A MATE

  Copyright 2013

  Lynn Richards

  Wolf Publishing

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  WARNING: This book is intended for mature audiences only.

  PLEASE SEE LAST PAGE FOR MORE BOOKS BY LYNN RICHARDS

  CHAPTER ONE

  There was no better way for a wolf to blow off steam than with a cold beer and a hot woman. At least that was McQuade Jenner’s philosophy in life. Unfortunately, he’d picked the wrong night or the wrong bar to find the hot woman. The Crater Moon Bar skirted the pack’s southern boundary and catered to both humans and shifters. The owner didn’t care if you sported fur or fangs, as long as your money was green.

  Usually on any given night he could find a reckless human looking for a one-time fling with a shifter or at least a biker groupie willing to ask him back to her place for a good time. He hadn’t had a woman—human or shifter—in over a month and he needed to unleash some sexual frustration. Pronto.

  Thirty days without sex was a hell of a long time for a shifter.

  Maybe he should have taken Briggs up on his offer to go into Canyon City. Granted, the beer was cold at the Crater Moon, but there wasn’t a potential quick, nostrings-attached fuck in sight.

  Just his damned luck.

  When the outside door opened, he, like every other shifter in the place heard the racing of the woman’s heart before she ever walked through the door. As one slender foot stepped across the threshold, his every sense went on high alert. He could blame it on the booze, but he hadn’t even finished his first beer. Besides, he could have drunk a whole case and he wouldn’t be affected. It took a lot of hard liquor to make a wolf even slightly drunk. It was possible, as he could attest. He’d spent years hitting the bottle before he realized he needed to rejoin society. Well, rejoin a pack and then only on a very limited basis.

  No, it was probably because he was so damned horny.

  Even though she resembled a drowned rat, she was still a female and a potential lay. Her hair was plastered to her head and her sweater hung unevenly, soaked from the rain. She looked bedraggled and miserable. And mad as hell.

  With one single sweep, his eyes took her in. The damp clothing clung to her curves—and man she had a lot of them. What was it Briggs always said, “more curves and dips than a mountain road.” He shifted in his seat as he felt the first stirrings of his cock. Maybe she was just what he needed to chase away the dissatisfaction and restlessness he’d been feeling. Lately, sex to McQuade had become an itch to scratch and not much more. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d wanted to throw a woman on her stomach and take her. Hard and fast.

  But he did this woman.

  He had to give her credit. She was walking through a bar filled with more than one dangerous animal and he couldn’t smell the least bit of fear on her. He could however, smell the anger. Had some man pissed her off and she was looking for a little revenge? His wolf growled at the idea of a man in her life. She scanned the room’s occupants, almost as if searching for someone, before heading to the bar. At least she had enough sense not to make eye contact with any of the men. If she had, they would have jumped on her like a dog on a bone. The bar was full and he wasn’t the only horny shifter out tonight.

  As he watched the dark haired woman make her way through the crowd, he knew she was exactly what he needed. There was something refined and elegant about her even in her soggy state. She was so not his type, but what-the-hell. If he couldn’t find someone with experience to ease his itch and chase away the restlessness that had been dogging his heels for months, maybe little Miss Innocence would.

  *****

  Rose Spencer pulled her prepaid cell phone from her pocket and checked one more time, hoping for a signal. Not that she had anyone to call, but it would give her a greater sense of security knowing she could dial 911. The night was almost pitch black and she had no idea how much further she’d have to walk to find a phone, or the bar where Alice supposedly waited. Not that Alice would be able to help her; she didn’t see her perfectly manicured sister changing a flat tire on the side of the road. Rose would have already had it done if she’d had air in her spare. Who knew you needed to check your spare tire at least once a year?

  The janitor at work had warned her about the passenger side tire on her car, but she’d been unable to do anything about it. She still couldn’t afford a new tire but she’d have to find a way to buy one now. She needed transportation to get back and forth to her job at the hospital. Public transportation wasn’t an option since it took her an extra hour by bus and sometimes when she worked the late shift, the buses had stopped running altogether.

  After six years of scrimping and saving, Rose had finally managed to put herself through school and earn her nursing degree. Thank goodness there was still a shortage of nurses in this region of the country and she’d found a job almost as soon as the ink was dry on her diploma.

  She’d have to see if the mechanic who worked on her car when it broke down, which was frequently, could find her a used tire. And come out and put it on, all without costing her an arm and a leg. She’d eaten nothing but noodles for dinner more than once in the past few years, another couple of months wouldn’t hurt her. Maybe she’d even lose some weight.

  A red neon sign came into view and Rose offered up a prayer of thanks. As she walked closer to the structure, she almost turned around. Staying in her car all night was probably a better idea than entering the building in front of her. The run-down honkey-tonk was not the finest piece of architectural design. The one-story structure boasted a dirty, grime covered front window, a dented steel door for entry and exit, and the bright neon sign flashing in the darkness.

  But hopefully she could find her sister quickly and get the hell out of Dodge.

  “You can do this.” Rose pumped herself up as she pushed open the door. Blinking to adjust to the dim light, she sent up another quick prayer that her sister would be ready and waiting and maybe this night would finally end.

  Alice had called right before Rose had left the hospital, asking for a ride home. Rose had rescued her sister more times than she could remember, usually after her sister’s latest boyfriend had had enough of her outrageous demands and left her stranded. Alice, unlike Rose herself, was a beautiful woman who traded on her looks to get by in the world. She’d laughed when Rose urged her to find a job, taunting Rose with the fact that she could always find another man to take care of her. Unsaid, but loudly heard as if shouted, was the fact Rose would never be able to land a man. Rose was the complete opposite of Alice. Where Alice was leggy, blonde and beautiful, Rose was short, pudgy and a little on the plain side. Oh, she wasn’t put-a-bag-over-her-head ugly, but her features were nothing outstanding. Add the extra weight she carried and Alice spoke the truth. Rose would probably never land a man.

  The fact that she dressed like a nun didn’t help matters either. But for once, she’d been grateful for her practical shoes and warm sweater as she walked along the side of the blacktopped road in the rain. Alice had laughed at the sturdy black shoes, calling them Rose’s old maid shoes. Rose had laughed right along with her, unwilling to show how much the comment had hurt. Sometimes—heck, most of the time, Rose was forced to admit it was the perfect description for her shoes. And herself.

  An old maid.

  She pulled the navy sweater tighter around her thick waist. The chances of her someday becom
ing a happily married woman were slim to none. Slim being a word that hadn’t been in her vocabulary since she was eight years old.

  Pulling her mind away from such depressing thoughts, she made her way across the floor, careful to keep her eyes trained on a spot directly in front of her. She could feel every eye in the place tracking her progress. One quick glance around had told her what she already knew. Alice was nowhere in sight.

  Rose ground her teeth together, clenching her jaw so hard it hurt. When was she ever going to learn? When was she ever going to stop leaping every time her sister yelled jump? She had to stop coming to her older sister’s rescue. It caused her trouble every time. Trouble at work, with her landlord, or worse yet, put her in serious danger, like tonight. Her car was stuck on the side of a two-lane road, in the pouring rain, with no help in sight. And she’d just entered a bar full of shifters.

  Holy crap.

  *****

  McQuade’s eyes followed the woman’s movements as she walked across the floor. He watched as she made her way to the bar, enjoying the sway of her generous hips. He couldn’t tell much about her figure under the sodden clothes, except that she was a very, very curvy woman. She spoke to the bartender, but he shook his head in response. Every shifter in the room heard the conversation; she was looking for her sister.

  His wolf gave a little growl. His hadn’t been the only eyes following her progress as she’d walked across the room. While the place was filled to capacity—mostly with humans—there were several groups of shifters as well. A pack of hyenas sat toward the front, just behind the door. A pride of lions was to his right and a pair of unfamiliar wolves had taken a table in the opposite corner. McQuade admired their savvy. Besides the table where he sat, it was probably the most defendable seating in the bar.

  The wolves had come in together but he didn’t think they were from the same pack. They each had different smells. When a wolf joined a particular pack, he took some of the alpha’s blood, bonding all the wolves together as a warning to any enemies. Either these two came from different packs or they hadn’t joined one yet. He remembered when he’d joined his. He’d helped the alpha out in a tight situation and the wolf had offered him a place in the pack.

  His gaze moved over the other occupants in the room. The lions’ appearances were different from most of the ones he knew. Lions were usually yuppie type bastards who didn’t travel far from the city. These men, however, seemed slightly seedy and rough around the edges. Lions, compared to other cat shifters, were a lazy lot who rarely shifted. They didn’t need to run in animal form as often as other shifters. Certainly not as often as a wolf. A wolf wanted to shift, needed to run through the forest, to feel nature at its most primal level.

  The lions could be problematic. Right now they were only looking—and he couldn’t blame them.

  That left the hyenas. Mean, dirty, and the bottom of the food chain as far as wolves were concerned. They had negligible integrity, and the little they did have could be sold to the highest bidder. He dismissed them, but didn’t forget them.

  McQuade knew he blended in with the rest of the rough clientele in the bar even though his hair was cut almost military short. The myriad tats on his muscular arms only added to the look of danger his hard face sported. He was big and bad and he looked it.

  His eyes focused on the woman. What was she doing here? Besides giving his wolf a major hard-on.

  When the woman lifted a hand to wipe the water from her cheek, her sweater pulled apart, exposing a white blouse underneath. A blouse that was nearly transparent thanks to the storm she’d walked through to get here. McQuade cursed and his wolf panted. Her breasts were bountiful. More than a handful and then some. Their size complimented the rest of her. Wide hips, curvy legs, and a surprisingly small waist. She had a gentle swell to her stomach that didn’t detract from her beauty at all. But she was short. Not how he liked his women. He liked them tall and curvy on top. She was short and curvy all over. She lowered her arm and the sweater fell back in place, hiding her breasts once again.

  He wasn’t likely to forget that view any time soon. Her breasts were natural, no artificial enhancement needed, and crowned with large areolas clearly visible through the wet, thin fabric. He couldn’t tell the color, but they were probably on the brown side. Right now, the nipples were rigid from the coolness of the air. It made a man want to strip away the sweater and shirt and stroke them with his tongue before taking them in his mouth and suckling like a baby. More than once he’d made women come just by sucking on their nipples and he was positive he could do the same for her.

  The lions had also seen what she had unintentionally revealed. They didn’t utter one word but McQuade could sense the arousal rolling off them. They wanted the woman. The woman who’d done a damn stupid thing by walking into a shifter bar all alone.

  *****

  Rose realized she’d made a grave mistake the moment she’d opened the bar’s metal door. Inside were roughly fifty men, and a handful of women. And not one of them was Alice. Why did that not surprise her? She’d probably already found a ride home, having hooked up with some other loser. Who else would she find in a biker bar?

  Rose knew how to size up people, especially men. As an emergency room nurse, she’d learned that lesson quickly. Some of the men in the bar were humans but most were shifters. They were all big, bad men. And not in a sexy way. Well, maybe one of them was. The one lounging in a chair toward the back was quite possibly the handsomest man she’d ever seen—a ten in a room full of zeroes. He was smokin’ hot. The quick glance she’d had of his chiseled face and muscular arms had almost made her lose her breath. Everything about him was dark–from his hair and skin to his shirt and jeans. Not to mention the aura surrounding him. He was the epitome of tall, dark and handsome… to say nothing of dangerous.

  Immediately her mind went there, wondering how all that testosterone would feel unleashed on her. She wasn’t very experienced but she wouldn’t even mind if he liked it a little rough. The thought of what else he might like sexually had her panties soaked in seconds.

  Lord, she wanted a bad boy just once!

  The other men in the bar were potential threats to her safety—she’d been an idiot to come in here alone. But the big one, the dark, brooding guy in the back, if she were smiled on by the gods to have a hunk like that want her—he would be a definite threat to her heart.

  It was a chance she was willing to take if he were so inclined. She felt an immediate draw to him, an impulse to throw herself at his feet and beg him to take her.

  She snorted delicately at her thoughts. Like that was ever going to happen.

  All right, Rose, no more romance novels for you.

  Yes, the man was a fine specimen of manhood–she shivered just thinking of what he would look like without his clothes. Would he have tattoos anywhere else to match those on his upper arms? She’d heard it was agonizing for a shifter to get a tat. The ink had to be laced with silver in order to get the tattoo to take. What would it feel like to run her tongue over every swirl and color? To soothe the long ago pain with a little pleasure?

  His face could have been carved from stone. He looked incapable of smiling or exhibiting any tender emotions. If Rose needed anything in her life, it was tenderness. She felt life had chewed her up and spit her back out already.

  She definitely wouldn’t get any TLC from him or any other shifter. A nurse at the hospital had dated one briefly and didn’t have one nice thing to say about the experience. Even though Rose didn’t believe everything the woman said, she had no doubt a shifter would be hard on a woman’s heart.

  Rose had helped treat shifters in the emergency room at the hospital. The adults rarely came in for treatment with the whole quick healing thing and all, but occasionally a younger one needed some patching up from an injury received before they’d reached the age where they could shift and heal themselves. The doctors hated shifters and treated them like second-class citizens. They excused their prejudice beha
vior by insisting the shifters would put them out of business, especially if they kept marrying stupid women. Meaning stupid human women. If everyone had shifter genes and could heal at such an amazing rate, doctors would soon become obsolete and so would their rich and luxurious lifestyle.

  These men were nothing like the ones that came to the hospital or even the one her friend had dated. The ‘animal’ in these men was way too close to the surface, visibly ready to pounce on any unsuspecting prey.

  Alice, what have you gotten me into this time?

  Trying to hide her worry lest she be set upon like a piece of meat thrown to starving dogs, Rose walked purposely to the bar. The man behind it was almost as menacing in appearance as the patrons. She hesitated to ask, but if Alice had been in earlier, maybe he would remember. No one usually forget her blonde-headed, beautiful sister.

  “Excuse me,” she cleared her throat to draw the man’s attention.

  A jerk of his greasy head acknowledged her presence. “Whatdaya want?”

  Rose licked her dry lips, wishing she’d thought to grab the loose change out of her car. She was thirsty and her wallet held only two dollars. Good thing tomorrow was payday. She seldom had money left at the end of the month and if she did, she kept it in the bank, away from temptation to spend it. She’d love a cup of coffee right about now. Or hot chocolate. She drank coffee for the caffeine but she enjoyed hot chocolate when she was cold and out of sorts.

  She was definitely out of sorts. And her feet were freezing.

  “I’m looking for my sister. She may have been here earlier. Do you remember seeing her? Tall, blonde, and very pretty?”

  His gaze raked over her as if to say what the hell happened to her. She looked nothing like Alice and had received looks like this all of her life.

  “No.” His greasy hair swung with the movement of his head. He stacked the glass he’d been wiping, then turned back to her. “What do you want to drink?” He pointed to a sign above the scarred wooden bar. “There’s a two drink minimum.”