Leave Janelle by Sarah Spade

10

From one second to the next, Paul shifts from human to skin. Jack waits a beat before he shifts to his blond wolf, arrogantly proving to me that he still doesn’t think he has anything to worry about.

That proves to be his undoing.

In his skin, Jack might’ve had the advantage. He’s wider. Brawnier. And he’s nasty to the bone. But as a wolf? As big as Jack’s wolf is, Paul’s is bigger. His grey wolf knows this land, too, and instinctually where the curve of the water is.

Jack doesn’t.

It becomes clear early on in their brawl that he has some of his attention on the river at his back. It puts Jack on the defensive immediately. The seconds he wasted didn’t help, either. Though the fight is furious, fur flying, blood spraying the dirt, it ends with Jack disabled on his back.

If the fight had anything to do with me, Paul wanted it more. But he’s not vicious. If the roles were reversed, Jack would already have torn out his throat, but Paul hesitates.

No. Not hesitates.

Paul looks at me.

I know what he’s asking.

The Wicked Wolf might not be honorable, but Paul is. And as much as I’d love to never have to worry about Jack again, he is Gem’s father. My ex-mate. I’m an omega. I can protect those that I consider mine, but I’m no killer.

I shake my head.

Paul gives Jack’s wolf a jerk, letting him know how easily he could end the challenge, then slowly eases his fangs out of Jack’s neck.

Jack flips from his side to his paws as he snarls, but he’s too late. The challenge is over. I know it. Paul knows it. Jack would deny it, but his wolf knows it, too. He could always issue another in the future, but for now, his wolf will go home to lick his wounds and his pride.

Paul stays in his skin as Jack leaps into the river, slinking away like a dog with its tail between its legs. He rests on his bloody haunches, a few stray blond furs clinging to his muzzle. I can sense his wounds, feel his pain, know that the challenge was closer than it appeared, but he refuses to move until his territory is secure again.

It’s all I can take not to swoon.

Now that’s what I call an Alpha.

* * *

By the timeI walk back into the den, Paul’s wolf at my side, Gem’s in my bed, fast asleep.

I’m glad. The last thing I want is for my pup to scent blood and her father on Paul. It would only upset her, and knowing she felt comfortable enough with Corinne to fall asleep while her father was on the pack territory tells me all I needed to know about the other omega.

She lets out a sigh of relief when it’s her brother who is accompanying me back to the Alpha cabin. When she tells him that she’ll call a pack meet and let the council know that, for now, the threat is over, she sounds non-plussed—but her eyes give her away. She would’ve gone as feral as I had if anything happened to Paul.

I’m still surprised when Paul nods, letting her go handle things with his Beta and his council. In the Wolf District, only the Alpha had any control and I’m not used to the change. Things are definitely different in Lakeview—and, in my opinion, better.

I’m not used to it, but I look forward to getting used to it.

They take care of each other here. And, if I stay, they’ll take care of me, too. Paul has. Corinne has. Countless packmates that I still haven’t met have taken care of me all on the word of their Alpha.

Not because he ordered them to, either. But because he was a cherished Alpha, and they respect him.

Paul’s done so much for me. Now it’s time for me to do something for him.

As soon as Corinne leaves, I go into the bedroom to check on Gem. My pup is sprawled on her belly, snuffling softly as she sweetly dreams.

Good.

Paul’s hovering in the doorway. Waving for him to come inside, I say, “Can you shift back to skin, please? I see blood on your fur and I want to make sure you’re okay.”

His wolf snorts, pawing at the hardwood floor as he shakes his head.

I roll my eyes. “Don’t be a baby. You saved me from Jack. The least I can do is take care of you now.”

Paul pauses, thinking it over. He cocks his head as if saying, “You asked for it.”

He’s right. I did ask for it.

My jaw drops.

I’ve spent my whole life as part of a pack. Nudity after a shift doesn’t mean anything—and I tell myself that repeatedly as Paul goes from fur to skin and I get my first glimpse of a naked Paul.

It’s not supposed to be sexual but, well, it is. With him, it totally is.

My eyes land on his cock. Even limp it’s impressive and, as I stare, I watch as the thing starts to twitch.

Oh my Luna. What am I doing? Ogling the poor guy when I’m supposed to be checking his wounds.

I mumble out an unintelligible apology as I force myself to look away from his slowly growing erection; if I had doubts about any attraction between us, his reaction to my heavy gaze on his cock would be enough to wipe them away. This isn’t about me wanting him or him wanting me. This is about me making sure my psycho ex-mate didn’t hurt him.

His chest is covered in claw marks. His left cheek, too. I gesture for him to turn and he does. His back is bloody and bruised, though they’re already fading. His ass… okay, I’m staring again, but it’s freaking glorious.

Don’t stare, Janelle. Don’t stare—

My gaze shifts.

Okay. This? This I’m allowed to stare at.

There’s a scar a few inches above the back of his knee. It’s closer to his outer thigh, and it’s a pretty solid circle. On closer look, I see that it’s a ring of smaller marks.

Teeth.

Teeth marks.

It’s a bite scar.

On Paul’s entire body, there isn’t a single marking. The reason for that is simple: no matter how brutal the injury, a shifter will heal. Unless they purposely choose to keep the mark, it’ll be gone by morning.

A shifter can keep a mark in two different ways. One: a mating mark that is consciously kept as a sign that they’ve been claimed by their mate. Two: a shifter tattoo. A shifter tattoo is usually done by macho males who wanted to show off a particularly nasty wound they survived, usually from a challenge. By mixing silver shavings with a specific blend of herbs, the shifter can rub it into an open wound and leave a silverish mark on their skin.

Mating marks become white slashes in the skin.

And Paul’s bite mark? It’s white

I point. “Jack didn’t do that.”

Paul doesn’t even follow my point. As if he’s been waiting all along for me to see it, he simply shrugs and says, “Nope.”

“And… that’s not a shifter’s tattoo, is it?”

Paul shakes his head.

I knew that, but I had to be sure.

He’s an alpha wolf. Nothing should be able to mark him—except a feral she-wolf protecting her pup—and only if he wanted it to stay.

I point at my chest.

He nods.

My legs buckle.

Paul is already moving toward me. Out of the corner of my eye, I see his cock swinging as he lunges, prepared to catch me if I drop. I gasp—more because I’d been trying to avoid staring at him like that while he’s hurt—and he immediately backs off.

My whole face is immediately on fire. Mumbling something about getting a washcloth to clean his cuts, I dash toward the bathroom. By the time I’ve gathered together a soapy washcloth, a damp one, and a clean one so that I can wipe down the bloody gashes, Paul’s found a pair of boxer briefs to cover up his cock. He’s sitting in one of the chairs on the other side of the room, trying his hardest to seem non-threatening.

Yeah. It’s not working.

Not that I’m scared. I’m both stunned and, okay, aroused. Because, whether it’s on purpose or not, though, the tight underwear shows off the bulge—and the scar on the side of his thigh.

I don’t know which one draws my attention more.

Both.

It’s both.

I swallow, keeping my eyes on his face. It seems the safest spot. “Uh. I know alphas heal even quicker than the rest of us shifters, but we should clean up some of the worst of those wounds.”

He spreads his arms out. “My body is yours.”

I make a strangled sound that has Paul quickly apologizing. “Didn’t mean it like that, Janelle. Sorry. If you want me to clean myself up, I will.”

“No, no. It’s fine.” Even though I know damn well he did mean it like that. He just didn’t mean for me to squeak like that. “Let me know if it hurts.”

He nods, and I get to work.

Most of the marks are already halfway healed so I tackle the worst. Before long, I realize that tending to the wounds is pointless and, instead, I focus on getting rid of the blood. And if I get more pleasure out of running the washcloths over his sculpted body than I should?

I can’t help it, and I blame that mark on his leg.

My gaze keeps dropping to it. I thought I was being discreet, especially since Paul had closed his eyes while enjoying his sponge both, which is why I’m caught off guard when he rumbles softly, “It doesn’t mean anything if you don’t want it to.”

I don’t pretend to not know what he’s talking about. And since I’m not ready to have this conversation, I give him one last swipe with the washcloth and pronounce him clean.

“I’ll add these to the laundry pile,” I tell him, looking away as I snatch the discarded washcloths up. “I… thanks for everything—”

“You don’t have to thank me.”

Yes. I do. “Anyway, I’m exhausted. Since Gem’s sleeping, I think I’m just going to turn in early.”

“Sounds good. Me, too.”

Phew. If Paul heads off to bed, that gives me at least another eight hours before I have to figure out what’s going to happen next. It’s worth sacrificing a meal to get my head on straight, I think as I toss the washcloths into the hamper, and I really need to—

I stop short when I see that Paul’s already abandoned his chair. But he hasn’t headed to his side of the Alpha cabin.

Oh, no.

Wearing only his underwear, he’s grabbed a pillow from my bed, punching it to make it comfortable before he stretches out on the ground. He’s not in my room, but directly on the other side of the doorway, on the edge of the dining area.

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like? I’m going to sleep.”

“On the floor?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“But why?” I’m flabbergasted. “Your bed’s on the other side of the cabin.”

“You’re right. But this was good for me last night. The night before, too. Every night since you’ve moved into the den, actually.”

Ah, Luna.

He has to be kidding, only he’s not… is he?

How did I not notice? I could use the fact that his scent covered every inch of his cabin, including the den, as my excuse. Or how just knowing he was near—but in the other half of the cabin—was enough to make me feel safe enough to relax in my borrowed bed. But I’m a shifter. I shouldn’t have slept so soundly with a predator just outside my door.

Only… I haven’t thought of Paul as a predator since the night I almost tore off his hind leg.

And honestly, I can’t pretend I don’t know what he’s been doing. Even if Jack didn’t do it right, I’ve watched enough female packmates be courted—been jealous of them and their devoted mates—to recognize the signs of a male performing his version of a shifter’s mating dance.

I glance at his scar.

If asked, I would’ve said he began courting me that day at the lake. If pressed, I might’ve said it was the first time he brought food to the cabin. But that mark? It just proves it’s been going on longer than I thought.

And now? Now he’s sleeping outside of my door, forever protecting me.

First he begged, now he’s acting like my personal pup.

The Alpha of the Lakeview Pack.

With a sigh, I open the door for him.

He raises his eyebrows.

“Come on.”

“Come on where, Janelle?”

He’s really going to make me say it, isn’t he?

“Look. I’m not going to let your pack think that I’m gonna stand by and let their Alpha sleep outside of my door. So, please, come inside. And, before you ask, I’m not going to let you sleep on the floor in there, either. The bed’s big enough for all three of us. Just… keep your claws to yourself, okay?”

My offer has surprised him, but Paul’s not an idiot. He immediately gets back to his feet, stepping into the room as if worried I’ll take it back.

As he shuffles past me, I hear him say off-handedly, “It could be your pack. Just saying.”

I close the door behind him. “And you would be my Alpha?”

“I’d be more than that if I could, Janelle,” Paul says softly. At first, I think it’s because he doesn’t want to wake up Gem, but I know better. Especially when he says, “And I think you know that,” I have to admit he’s right. Deep down, I do know.

And... there it is.

After the evening at the lake, we’ve danced around the topic, but he’s never put his motives out there like that before.

Considering this is happening so close on the heels of Jack’s appearance—and challenge—I have to ask, “Is it because of him?”

“The Wicked Wolf? Well, yeah—”

Because he wants to take Jack’s mate as another “F-U”? I didn’t want to think so, but the niggle of suspicion wouldn’t leave me alone. The mark got my hopes up, sure, but his answer just sent them plummeting. “Oh.”

“—but not what you think.”

Hopes inch a liiiiiittle higher again as I chuckle weakly. “Am I that obvious?”

“No, Janelle. You’re that beaten down. My wolf wants to see you protected, and I’ve been on board since the beginning.” He gestures toward his thigh. “I mean, obviously. But that male hurt you—”

Stepping into Paul, I rub my thumb against one of the slashes in his cheek that hadn’t quite healed yet. “He hurt you, too.”

A crooked grin, so much more enticing than Jack’s cocky smile. “He tried. But these marks will be gone by morning. The ones on you… they’re buried too deep. I’d heal them if you’d let me, but I understand if you’d rather not.”

“That mark won’t be gone by tomorrow,” I whisper.

“No. It won’t. And if it never becomes more than a fond memory for me, that’s okay. It was my choice to make.”

Because mates get to choose.

He’s not pushing me. He promised he never would. A mate gets to choose, and though that mark means he made his choice, it’s all on me now.

I made the wrong choice once. When I let sunny Jack Walker sweep off my feet and carry me into his territory. But I also chose to leave.

Maybe, one day, I’ll be strong enough to choose Paul.

“Let’s sleep it off,” I suggest. “We don’t have to choose tonight, do we?”

He gives his head a slow shake. But he’s still wearing his smile as he says, “I’m looking forward to sleeping in a bed again. With you? That makes it a thousand times better.”

And if that’s all I give him? He’ll take it, too.

Because that’s what a true mate would do.