One with the wolf, p.1
One with the Wolf, page 1
Copyright © 2022 by Vee R Paxton
All rights reserved.
No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.
Acknowledgments
Thanks to my amazing team of alpha (Chrystal) and beta readers who gave me so much encouragement, support and inspiration while helping the story blossom.
Thanks to Jaime Watson of Baker Street Revisions for her incredible insight and input as my editor. I can't say enough nice things about the work she put into this piece, the brilliant suggestions she added, and the inspiration she brought forth within the piece. She's a blessing and I'm forever grateful for her magic.
Thanks to Dee Houpt of Dee's Notes for helping me clean up any weirdness remaining with her expert proofreading skills and advice.
Special thanks to fellow authors Jaelle Keyes and MJ Faraldo who encouraged me to write and develop the story.
As always thanks to all the readers and fans of romance everywhere that keep myself and other authors inspired to create stories of romance and intrigue.
For my mother who has always encouraged me to be creative and true to myself.
Contents
1. Gia Jordan
2. Jenson Kincaid
3. Gia
4. Jenson
5. Gia
6. Jenson
7. Gia
8. Jenson
9. Gia
10. Jenson
11. Gia
12. Jenson
13. Gia
14. Jenson
15. Gia
16. Jenson
17. Gia
18. Jenson
19. Gia
20. Jenson
21. Gia
22. Jenson
23. Gia
24. Jenson
25. Gia
26. Jenson
About Author
Also By Vee R Paxton
Teaser for Sterling Moon Book Two
Chapter one
Gia Jordan
“You can’t keep running forever, Gia.” My stepmom, Lara, is standing in my bedroom doorway as I zip up my black bag containing the supplies for my getaway. It’s a favorite bag because my late grandmother bought it for me as a gift during a trip we took to New Orleans after I graduated from high school, a pilgrimage to connect with my Creole roots.
“I’m not running, Mom. I’m being cautious. I’ll only be gone a couple of nights. Once I make it through the worst of my heat cycle, I’ll be home and back to normal.”
“Would it really be so bad to have a mate?” she asks, pushing away a strand of black hair hanging across her face. The way she nervously twists her foot on the floor draws my attention to the heels she’s wearing. They’ve held up well to her abuse; she’s forever testing them.
I love my stepmom and know she wants the best for me, but she doesn’t understand. She got lucky with my dad. They chose each other after losing their original mates. No heat, no fury, just love. That’s what I want—to choose someone I love.
She gives me an expectant look and I let out an exhausted sigh. Grabbing the strap of my bag and slinging it over my shoulder, I turn to face her.
“Look, last time Marv’s idiot son, Paul, almost got me. He’s a total dick and wouldn’t let me work outside the home if he claimed me. I can’t risk him poking around again because he finally figured out how to do the math, realizes I’m hitting heat again, and knows I’m vulnerable. I’ve worked too hard to have my own career to let some guy stand in the way of it.”
“But Marv is Alpha of our pack. You’d be Luna one day if you were with Paul. Think of all the good you could do.”
“He only wants me because I kicked his ass repeatedly in the Tae Kwon Do class we were in together and somehow thinks making me his mate will make the other guys stop teasing him about it. Besides, bottom line, I don’t like him. Do you really want me to be with someone I don’t like?”
Her face softens. “Of course not, sweetie. You know I love you. I just worry with all your Norm boyfriends you’ll miss finding your Lycan mate. You’re twenty-seven already.”
I throw on my coat and give her a quick hug before moving past her.
“Stop worrying. I’ll be fine. I gotta go or I won’t have enough time at the museum to really enjoy myself today.”
Snow is coming down like crazy as I make my way to the subway station, causing me to pull my coat tighter against my body. The barrage of scents housed in the New York City subway system can be challenging to the hypersensitive noses of us Lycans, but it’s worth it to me. Besides, with the snow outside, the subway is probably safer than any other form of transportation.
The train doors slide open, and I step from the cold, dimly lit concrete platform into the car full of travelers. As I scoot by the other riders on my quest for a seat, my filtering process kicks into full gear. Acknowledge the smell, then delete in my head—that’s the key. As I pass through the car, the scent of someone’s garlic-laden lunch, another person’s case of bad gas, and someone else’s overdone perfume all filter through my awareness, then right back out again. Having spent most of my life in the city, I’ve gotten good at processing. Still, there are some aromas I find harder to ignore.
I’m squeezing between two other riders to claim the last orange plastic seat in the car when my nose catches an abundance of stale malt liquor. Yep, that’s a hard one to ignore. The smell of yeast and old barley consumed in mass quantities emanates from a nearby drunk. Gross. The man across from me, the source of the foul odor, is looking straight ahead, with a rather vacant expression on his face. A short beard adorns his strong, angular jaw, and the glassy eyes—like his smell—say he’s consumed a substantial amount of alcohol.
Underneath it all, he’s rather handsome in a rugged, scruffy sort of way, with his chiseled cheekbones and piercing hazel eyes. He’s wearing several layers of overcoats, piled on top of each other and spilling from his seat into the next. The excessive layers speak of someone ready to sleep outside, or at least brave the elements for a while. But something about him seems off. He doesn’t look as if he’s been on the street long. Maybe his wife kicked him to the curb. Regardless, with another big storm forecasted for today, I hope this ride gives him a break from whatever troubles he’s facing.
A twitch of the mating heat flows through my body. Shit, not now. I wiggle in my seat, as if that could begin to scratch the surface of my need. If it gets a lot worse I might risk casual sex with a Norm guy, not my usual style, but I’ve never been with another Lycan. Too many are like that dickhead Paul with fragile egos who don’t think women have value outside the home.
The man next to me opens his copy of The New York Times, nearly hitting me in the face with it. I grin when I see the Kincaid Corporation logo with a headline about the newest version of their groundbreaking computer operating system scheduled to release soon.
After years of hustling, my dream of working for Kincaid in their software department is finally happening. I went through several rounds of interviews, begged professors for references, and practically stalked my HR representative for updates. In the end, my enthusiasm, skills, and determination paid off. I only have two more weeks of waiting tables at the bar until I enter a whole new world. My excitement causes my smile to broaden. What should I do with that first paycheck? Maybe I can take taxis instead of the subway more often. One thing’s for sure, I’ll be moving into an apartment of my own as soon as possible.
My half sister, Taylor, already has an eye on my room. Just thinking of her makes me smile. I love my stepmom, but Taylor is my heart. I remember my joy at age thirteen when they brought her home from the hospital, and I’ve adored her every day since. We shared a bedroom until my stepbrother left for the Air Force. When he moved out, much to Taylor’s envy, I scored his room. As soon as I announced my new job, Taylor started making plans to claim the larger bedroom. As much as I'll miss seeing her every day, I'm happy to give it up. I hope I can find a place that isn’t too far from my family, but I do want to be closer to work. The commute from the Bronx to Kincaid’s offices in Manhattan on the subway is something I can do without.
At another stop, passengers file off and new people enter the subway. A lavender-soaked woman sits next to me, interrupting my daydream and blocking the drunken man’s smell with her flowery cologne. I smile kindly at her, thankful for the more pleasant odor.
My goal today is the Metropolitan Museum of Art. It’s my favorite place to visit when my body is itching for sex, since it allows me to immerse myself in beauty and forget my animalistic desires. Who am I kidding? It’s one of my favorite places to go—period.
I love walking through the museum doors into the glorious Grand Hall with its high ceilings, marble arches, and shiny floors—it’s an indescribable experience. I could easily spend days wandering through the museum, taking in all the delights it has to offer.
“Hey, Gia!” A dark-haired man with sparkling green eyes smiles at me as he grasps the pole in front of my seat. He’s a regular at Secret Elixir, the bar where I’ve been working for the last few years. Customers often remember my name, and I do my best to remember theirs, but today my wacky hormone imbalance is blocking access to that part of my brain.
“Hey,” I reply, not really wanting to chat but not wanting to seem rude either. My memory might not be willing to provide his name, but I do remember how well he always tips.
“Is the bar open tonight? Me and my buddies wanna get
“I’m sure it is.”
“So you aren’t working?”
“Not tonight. Got a few days off.”
The scruffy drunk man coughs loudly, and when I look up, he’s staring at me. His eyes are less vacant now, with a twinkle of what might be curiosity in them. Why do I find him sexy? Why has he caught my attention in the first place? Norms rarely fire my heat. And no way he’s Lycan. I smell none of the familiar Lycan markers; plus, it makes little sense for a Lycan to be on the street—unless he’s a rogue. Do I really have that much of a thing for bad boys?
“Wow, good for you. I don’t think I’ve ever gone in there and not seen you working.”
My brain scrambles to refocus on the less interesting man in front of me as the train screeches around a corner.
“The new boss is much better at giving us time off when we ask. Have you met Ash yet? You’ll see him behind the bar sometimes.”
“I think I noticed him the last time I was there, but I didn’t talk to him. What happened to Bill? I haven’t seen him there in a while.”
I cringe at the name. Bill had been a poor choice on my part. I had a crush and acted on it, and we went out a few times. When Ash promoted me to a supervisory position, I discovered Bill couldn’t handle having a woman as his supervisor—much less the one he was sleeping with. Bottom line for me is I can’t be with a man who doesn’t respect my mind and my strength.
“I think he got another job somewhere, I’m not sure. I just know he quit.” My tone is more abrupt than I intended, and based on the expression on his face, he realizes he stepped in shit by asking.
Before he says another word, a muffled announcement for the 77th Street stop crackles through the car.
Thank God. I hop up, relieved to avoid further conversation. “My stop. Nice to see you. Have a great day.” I give him a polite smile before making my way to the door.
Malt-liquor man lines up directly behind me to exit. Why the hell would he get off the train here? I shrug. It isn’t important. He isn’t important.
“I think he likes you,” the stranger growls. Something about his deep voice vibrating in my ear resonates within, like smooth rolling thunder, making my insides clench. So sexy. My body fires into instant arousal mode, my hands trembling slightly as my heart begins to race. Fuck. He doesn’t smell Lycan, but there’s something familiar about him. No. Nope. No way. Do not fuck some random drunk guy to fulfill your urges, Gia. That’s just stupid.
Pushing his comment from my mind, I quickly make my way onto the platform as the door opens, needing to put as much distance between us as possible. I bolt up the stairs, making a hasty escape out of the station. My reaction to him makes me wonder if the bad booze is masking his scent. Doesn’t matter. If he is a rogue, he’s dangerous. Best to steer clear.
At street level, a gust of wind blows heavy snow in my face, nearly blinding me. The storm is getting worse than the meteorologists had predicted. The accumulation is building rapidly, but it isn’t anything we haven’t seen before. Still, nothing slows New Yorkers. While there are fewer people on the street today because of the weather, the city isn’t empty by any means. Navigating the sidewalk proves easy enough, and it isn’t long before my black boots are crunching up the snow-covered stairs to the museum entrance. Grasping the cold metal handle of the glass door, I open it, relieved to be out of the elements.
The guard greets me with a smile. “Good to see you back,” he says with a nod as I shake the excess snow off my boots and coat before leaving the entryway. They may not know me by name, but like I’d recognized my customer on the subway, a lot of the staff members here know me on sight. I pay my admission, check my coat and the bag containing my modest supplies for my getaway, and move into the Great Hall.
My next issue is deciding which way to go first. Hmm, Egyptian art to the right, or start with Greek and Roman to the left? Or head upstairs to medieval art? I look around. More people seem to be making their way out than in. My lucky day. Encountering as few people as possible is exactly what I need.
Egypt feels like a good place to start today. Decision made, I head into the exhibit.
Chapter two
Jenson Kincaid
God, the smell of her—so intoxicating. The moment she stepped onto the train, her scent enveloped me. Then I saw her, and the game was on. I need her. Screw my plans. She is my plan. Something about her soulful brown eyes, that smooth dark bronze skin, and that shapely body . . . they beckon me. Fuck. She’s no ordinary she-wolf.
This isn’t why I’m here. Not at all. I have no idea why I’m unable to resist following her. I’ve trained myself to avoid the lure of a she-wolf in heat, but damn, this one instantly lit me up and she has me on the prowl. Before her scent hit me, my goal was to come into the city and get loaded on the crappy alcohol that hides my smell. Then just hang out—maybe bang a few Norm women. No frills, no pressure. The escape of anonymity. A stocking cap hides my well-groomed hair, and the short beard I usually favor in the winter aids the look I’m going for. Generally, people notice little other than the pile of overcoats and aroma of cheap liquor, so it doesn’t take much effort for me to stay under the radar. The booze smell keeps them away more than anything. Am I too old, at forty, to be playing this game? Okay, maybe. But fuck it. It’s my life.
The guard studies me quizzically when I enter the museum. I chuckle to myself, realizing in my haste I forgot about my disguise. Straightening to my normal stride and walking up to the desk, I smile at the attendant, pull out my wallet and grab a hundred to donate, more than covering the entrance fee. The look on her face is priceless. Oh lady, you’ve no idea. That’s nothing.
Hiding my wealth isn’t important now, not with the she-wolf’s smell in my nose. The head rush from her scent gives me a different kind of buzz than the alcohol, and all thoughts of why this might not be a good idea disappear entirely. The she-wolf is my conquest. She is my goal. Those black springy curls that bounce with her every step beg to be tangled between my fingers. Her lush, full hips need to be cradled by my hands while I drive my cock deep inside of her welcoming pussy.
That scent lingers in my nostrils. So sweet and hot, like a cinnamon roll with chili pepper flakes in the icing. I lick my lips. Between her luscious booty and those generous, mouthwatering tits, I’ll make a meal out of her and leave her satisfied before I disappear.
In the middle of the Great Hall, I close my eyes and inhale. Which way did she go? I deliberately let her get farther ahead of me to allow myself the thrill of a chase. My head snaps to the right and a grin spreads across my face. Oh yeah, baby. I got you.
I spot my prey as I’m strolling from the Grand Hall into the Egyptian exhibit. There she is, walking into the temple room. Her pleated black skirt swings with every step, her thighs are covered in black tights that highlight how shapely they are, lighting my imagination on fire.
Damn. What is it about her? I have no idea, but I’m not leaving until I find out. I’ll keep my distance—stay out of sight for a while and study her.
As I follow her into the next room, the gray sky outside casts gloomy shadows across the displays. It's a sharp contrast from the vibrant natural light that usually floods the area from the floor-to-ceiling windows that dominate the exterior wall. Large chunky snowflakes are coming down hard outside the window, which adds a thrilling ambiance to my hunt of the raven-haired temptress.
She bends over to read a sign, her skirt hiking slightly. It reveals nothing, yet increases my determination to capture the prize. Fuck yeah, bend over. She pops up and practically skips into the next room. Those damn spring-like curls bouncing with her. My little wolf is having a good time, unaware of the delights awaiting her once I catch her.
“Excuse me, sir.” A guard stops me before I can follow. “You neglected to check your bag at the front. I’m going to have to ask you to follow me.”
