Mates: Werewolf BBW Romance (Running With Alphas Book 8) Read online

  Mates

  Running With Alphas

  Viola Rivard

  Contents

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Epilogue

  Afterword

  Copyright © 2015 by Viola Rivard

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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  Chapter 1

  “Taylor. Hey, Taylor. Taylor. Taylor.”

  Taylor lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling. A black spider had made its home in the corner nearest to her head. It sat perched in its discordant tapestry, waiting for food, but was collecting only dust.

  She had never been a fan of spiders. Snakes, spiders, and pretty much anything that had the potential to deliver a poisonous bite, they creeped her out. During a brief stint in Girl Scouts, she’d gone on a summer camping trip where they’d explained, with a helpful mnemonic, which colors were indicative of poison.

  Red on black is okay, Jack. Red on yellow kills a fellow.

  “But what about black widows?” she mused aloud.

  “What? Taylor? Can you hear me?”

  Taylor’s gaze shifted to her window. Curtains obscured her view to outside, but she could easily make out Lark’s peering silhouette. The raccoon shifter tapped on the window again, and Taylor tried to work up the motivation to respond to her.

  “I’m trying to sleep,” Taylor grunted. She didn’t raise her voice, but she knew that she didn’t have to.

  “We were thinking that maybe you should get some sunshine,” Lark said.

  “I don’t see how that would help me sleep,” was Taylor’s flat response.

  Taylor didn’t have to be able to see past the curtains to know that Lark was squirming. She expected the shifter to give up, but Lark surprised her.

  “You’ve been sleeping a lot lately.” She hesitated, then added, “I know you miss Alder, but—”

  “You don’t know anything,” Taylor snapped. “Now leave me alone and let me sleep.”

  There was a moment of silence, and then Lark mumbled an apology and left the window. Taylor felt a pang of remorse at her absence. It was nothing unusual by now. In the past two months, she’d made a habit of duplicity—pushing her friends away one moment and then missing them the next. Taylor recognized that she was depressed; she just didn’t know what to do about it.

  One of the babies kicked and Taylor cringed. Their movements no longer felt like soft flutters or popping corn, but had evolved into kicks and jabs, typically directed at one another, but occasionally at her already sore ligaments. She rubbed her belly, mostly in an effort to push away whichever limb was assaulting her pelvis.

  Lark had been at least partially right. Taylor was depressed about Alder. It had been two months since he’d been gone, and in that time the mountains had been repeatedly battered by snowstorms. Given the brutal and capricious weather, everyone predicted he wouldn’t be back until the winter ended, which could be yet another two months.

  But Alder was only part of the problem. The wait might have been bearable, had Taylor at least had Hale. She and Hale should have been fine—after all, they’d worked out all of their issues, and Hale had even confessed that he was in love with her. Yet since his brother had been gone, Hale had been more distant than ever. And that was saying a lot, because Hale could do aloof and indifferent like nobody’s business.

  With both of her mates absent in one way or another, Taylor felt horribly alone. For a while, she had coped by crying. Then, she’d gone through a phase where she moped around feeling sorry for herself. Now, she just felt numb.

  The baby kicked again, and Taylor rolled over onto her side in an effort to shift its position. Her only escape from the overbearing depression had been her unborn children. No matter how sad she felt, they could always make her smile, or make her break into an impromptu serenade. But lately, even they had not been enough to lift her glum mood.

  As she transitioned into her third trimester, her children had begun to feel like another burden. Her body felt huge and ungainly, and her back ached constantly. The discomfort was rapidly outpacing the joy, and her symptoms were only exacerbating her depression.

  A quick knock preceded her front door opening. Glenn stepped inside, with Lark skulking in behind him. They were both barefoot, and despite her general apathy, Taylor found it remarkable that neither of them was wearing shoes. There was at least a foot of snow on the ground—snow that they were now tracking into her home.

  Glenn noticed this and looked down at his feet sheepishly. “Sorry. I can clean that up for you.”

  Taylor shrugged. “It’s fine. What do you need?”

  Unlike Lark, Glenn generally gave Taylor a wide berth, rarely bothering her unless it was something important.

  “It’s going to snow,” he told her.

  Taylor glanced out the door, which was still partially open. It had been sunny a short while ago, but now a steely grey sheet had fallen over the sky. She looked at Glenn again, offering him a small shrug.

  Glenn awkwardly shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Hale will probably want you to come to the den.”

  Taylor pursed her lips. “Well, then he can come and tell me that himself.”

  “Right,” Glenn said, running a hand through his shaggy hair. “He should, uh, be here soon anyway. If it’s okay, Lark and I are going to go help with the hunt.”

  Taylor gave an absent nod. Although he made it a point to avoid her, Hale did watch over the cabin each night, usually arriving shortly after the hunt. Sometimes she caught a glimpse of his shadow moving along the trees, but generally the only sign he’d been there were the large paw prints that looped around the perimeter of her yard.

  Through her window, Taylor watched Lark and Glenn leave. Once they’d disappeared into the woods, she allowed herself to feel that nagging remorse once more. She didn’t want to be the way that she was being, she just didn’t know how to feel better. Somehow, she’d allowed herself to become complacent in her unhappiness.

  Her gaze shifted to the quail coop. The hens had already taken shelter inside the hutch and she could just make out their small forms huddled together within the small house. She knew from last week’s storm that the hutch would provide only minimal protection for them, and so she threw on a makeshift coat and headed outside.

  The frigid air chilled her cheeks and stung her lips. Glenn had shoveled the front yard several times, but despite his efforts, the wind had continued to dump fresh deposits of snow on the area, and Taylor found herself trudging through ankle-deep snow.

  A large plastic tarp was rolled up next to the coop. Taylor picked it up and unraveled it, shaking off the accumulation of flurries. With comical effort, she managed to spread it over the top of the coop and the sides from which the wind was blowing. It took a little while, and by the time she finished tying the tarp into place, her fingers had begun to grow numb.

  She debated going around back to grab some more firewood, but ultimately decided against it. Chances were, Hale was going to make her spend the night in the den anyway. The only time he made an effort to talk to her was to give her some sort of order. Usually just to go t
o the den when the weather was turning sour. She always slept in his room, but he never joined her there.

  Cold as she was, Taylor still lingered at the coop for a few moments, her thoughts turning bitter. Tonight, she would sleep in another room, she decided. She didn’t care that Hale’s room was the warmest, or that his bed of furs was impossibly comfortable. She’d rather sleep in a cold, hard bed than lay awake in Hale’s, hoping that he’d come and join her.

  “Two months of getting the cold shoulder for no reason and you’d probably still cuddle up to him like a kitten,” she grumbled, rolling her eyes. “You’re so pathetic.”

  Folding her arms under her breasts, Taylor hunched her shoulders and headed back towards her cabin. She didn’t walk, so much as stomp up her stairs, and in her seething anger, she forgot all about the snow that Glenn had tracked into the house. Since she’d been outside, it had melted into slush. As she stepped on it, the worn soles of her boots failed to find traction and she slipped.

  The world tilted backwards, and Taylor barely had time to suck in a breath before she landed flat on her back, half of her body inside the cabin and the other half on the porch, staring up at the concrete sky. Something had cracked in her back, and for a moment, she was afraid to move. Her fear was only amplified when she tried to lift her head and found that she was paralyzed.

  Closing her eyes, she let out a long, trembling breath. Her heart was galloping in her chest like a wild horse and she willed herself to be calm. After a long moment, she tried to lift her head again, this time with some success. But as she tried to sit up, bracing herself up on one elbow, pain shot up and down her spine.

  Pain is good, she told herself. When you didn’t feel anything, that was when you had to worry, right?

  She tried to get up again, but to no avail. The pain was just too much. She lay back down and once more focused on her breathing. Something nagged at her, but she didn’t want to acknowledge it. She tried to ignore it, hoping that the pooling warmth was psychosomatic and would go away once she calmed down. Finally, she had to know one way or another.

  With a shaking hand, Taylor reached down between her legs. She let out a soft whimper as her fingertips came in contact with something wet and sticky.

  Blood.

  Chapter 2

  Hale took it upon himself to preside over the cleaning of the night’s game. They’d put in an extra effort, hunting enough for three nights’ worth of meals for the pack, as there was no telling when the snow would let up. The harsh winter had nearly depleted their generous stores of food and he was determined to make sure they wouldn’t have to fall back on what was left of the smoked venison, salted fish, and dried tube roots.

  Under his stern gaze, the pack members worked double time to get the animal carcasses cleaned and portioned. Even Lark, who generally spent more time chatting than actually working, kept her head down and her eyes focused on the task at hand.

  Flurries of snow began to fall on his cold, wet nose. He could have left Laurel to watch over the pack. Aside from himself and his brother, the large, no-nonsense beta female was the most intimidating member of the pack. But tonight, Hale wasn’t particularly eager to get to the cabin. In fact, he was outright procrastinating it.

  Hale hated watching over Taylor at night. He hated it, and yet, he couldn’t stop himself. After Caim had disappeared, he’d tasked Fenix with the job of looking after Taylor during the long winter nights. But inevitably, Hale would end up spending the nights outside her window, watching her as she cooked, cleaned, read, and napped. As much as he wanted to put her out of his mind, his instincts refused to allow it.

  What he really wanted was to be inside that cabin with her. He wanted to take advantage of his brother’s absence, and in fact, when Alder had announced he’d be leaving, Hale had been planning on doing just that. He’d envisioned weeks with just himself and Taylor, spending their days and nights together, sharing meals, conversing, and of course, mating copiously. The wolf he’d been a year ago would have hardly believed he could ever have such a domestic fantasy, and Hale would have given anything to be able to flip a switch and revert back to that cold, uninvolved creature.

  But despite his best efforts to put distance between himself and Taylor, he would probably never be that wolf again. He’d taken up monogamy for her. He’d fallen in love with her. He was even beginning to feel the stirrings of something towards the pups.

  And therein laid his biggest problem.

  The pups weren’t his. Not entirely. Sure, he, Taylor and Alder had come to some sort of vague agreement that he would be a part of their lives, and for a while, he’d been okay with that. For a while, he’d been okay with sharing Taylor as well.

  Now, he wasn’t so sure.

  It hadn’t happened all at once. The shift had been gradual and had occurred during the months when Alder had been preoccupied with Snow’s abduction. During that time, Taylor had relied almost solely on Hale for love and support, and Hale had thrived on it. For a while, he’d forgotten that Taylor wasn’t just his, which made it all the more jarring when Alder finally came to his senses and reclaimed the mantle of being Taylor’s favored mate.

  And Alder was her favorite mate.

  Hale had no delusions about that, nor could he blame her for favoring his brother. Hale was still learning how to be a mate, while Alder was already a good mate. His brother was kind, caring, and empathetic—all qualities that Hale had once viewed as weaknesses, but now would give anything to possess.

  Heavy snowflakes were falling by the time the group began packing up. No parts of the carcasses had been spared tonight, as even the bones could be used for their marrow, should the snow last for too long.

  Reluctantly, Hale took his leave, padding off into the forest towards the cabin. Tonight, he had been particularly eager to avoid his watch because he wouldn’t be able to simply watch her, he’d have to actually interact with her, which fucking sucked.

  Worse than watching her from afar, was being up close to her, smelling her, hearing her sweet voice, and looking into her eyes—eyes that were sometimes pleading and other times, plain hostile. She was confused, upset, and pissed at him for the way he was behaving, and he didn’t blame her for that either.

  He was being a selfish asshole, and he knew it.

  The trip from the river to the cabin was shorter than he would have liked. The first thing he heard was the sound of the quail, squeaking at one another from within their hutch. He noticed that the tarp had been pulled over the coop and a decent amount of snow had already accumulated on top of it.

  Then, he heard Taylor. The sound of her soft, sniffling cries made his gut clench and for a moment he froze, feeling indecisive. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard her cry in the past few months. In fact, she cried almost every night. He tried to tell himself that it was just because she was pregnant—pregnant females cried a lot—but he knew that was only part of it.

  But within seconds, something else came to his attention. Something that caused him to immediately spring into motion and rush towards the cabin, shifting mid-leap.

  The scent of blood.

  The cabin door was wide open and Taylor lay prone on the floor, her head having fallen on the porch. His mind immediately assumed the worst, but as he approached the porch, he saw her lift a shaking hand in his direction. Leaping over the steps, Hale fell into a crouch at her side, taking Taylor’s cold hand into his.

  “What happened?” he breathed, his eyes scanning her head, looking for the source of the blood. He saw no blood amongst the red tresses, but he was startled by how pale her skin was and by the raw anguish in her eyes.

  “I-I tripped,” she said, her teeth chattering. “I t-think that I m-might be, that I might be—”

  Her words were lost in a low sob, accompanied by a rush of tears. Hale squeezed her hand tightly, trying to keep them both sane as he assessed her condition. He knew that he shouldn’t move her, not without her first being assessed by Cammie, but he also couldn�
�t leave her half outside and exposed to the increasingly bitter weather. He considered covering her up and howling for someone to come, but his impulsiveness won out.

  Doing his best to keep her in the same position, Hale put one arm under her knees and the other behind her neck. With the utmost care, he picked her up. Before he was even fully standing, he saw the source of the blood. An angry red, it had pooled on the floor beneath where her pelvis had rested. He knew what it may mean, but tried not to let his fear show as he carried her over to her bed.

  “Tell me where it hurts,” he said as he settled his mate down on the furs.

  Taylor continued to sob for another moment, before finally regaining a measure of composure. Between sniffles, she told him, “My back and my head, mostly.”

  “Any cramps?”

  She shook her head, her eyes filling with a fresh batch of tears.

  “That’s good,” Hale said, feeling a small weight lift from his shoulders. He inclined his head towards her belly, even more relieved to hear both pups’ heartbeats beating strongly. “They sound fine.”

  “But I’m bleeding,” she said, her voice hoarse.

  Hale nodded. “That doesn’t mean you’re going to go into labor. Just lay back, relax, and I’ll go get—”

  Taylor seized his arm in a vice grip. “How do you know that? Are you sure they’ll be okay?”

  Struck by the intense emotion in her eyes, Hale was momentarily at a loss for words. Her fear and desperation mirrored his own, and his chest ached with the effort to keep it inside. Only years of conditioning, both as an alpha and as a man, allowed him to speak without a tremor in his voice.

  “I can’t say for sure, I don’t even know if Cammie can, but this isn’t the first time I’ve seen this. Sarah once fell into a ravine while she was pregnant. She bled for days and we were all sure that she and the pup would die, but they both ended up fine.”