Chapter 2

“It’s been two months, Derrick. Opening night is two days away, and we don’t have enough bartenders. I’m telling you this is gonna be a disaster,” Sheila shrieked and stomped her foot like a giant diaper baby brat.

His little cousin was always quick with her temper, but it was nothing Derrick could not handle. He raised an eyebrow, and clever little Wolf changed tactics, pouting, and giving him those big goo-goo eyes like she used to when she wanted him to carry her around piggyback when they were kids.

Fucking hell.

Classic Sheila. Always resorting to what he thought of as overly dramatic tactics whenever she was attempting to wrestle Derrick’s attention from whatever he was doing, so he could do what she wanted instead. But not this time.

Derrick was busy AF. Okay, fine. Maybe not busy. But he was trying to settle his inner animal, and that was a hell of a thing for a dominant Dire Wolf. He’d tried everything. Doing the books, stocking the upstairs coolers, checking the kegs, and counting the number of fucking beer glasses he’d ordered for the bar.

Right now, he was outdoors in the giant barn they’d converted into a garage, polishing the body of his custom Harley Davidson VRSCDX Night Rod Special. Just because his small Pack of Dire Wolves had given up life on the road, didn’t mean they could let things go to shit.

Hell, he still loved riding, but it had been years since his boots had stood in one place long enough to leave a print. Things were changing. The animal inside him was restless, looking for permanence. It was time to settle down.

Six months ago, he’d contacted the Shifter Council with his intentions and sent out feelers for a stable territory, nothing too big, and without any other Shifter presence, so he and his Pack could build a home. Within a few weeks, Derrick was looking at available real estate in Blue Valley, New Jersey. The small east coast town seemed the perfect fit for him and his Pack.

That did not mean Derrick was going to abandon his wheels. A biker at heart, his love of crotch rockets had always been a huge part of him. It was what had him outside right now, cleaning, polishing, and making sure every single bit of his chopper was in top form.

Sheila should know better than to interrupt him when he was taking care of his baby. Was he wrong for being outside when they were about to launch their new business?

Maybe.

But his baby cousin knew exactly what was up when Derrick was busy with his bike, especially considering she felt the same about her own snazzy little Softail Convertible. All his Pack mates shared that same deep love and respect for their mounts. They were also all meticulous when it came to caring for them.

They were a Pack of seven strong, a blip compared to the Macconwood Wolf Pack which held most of North America under Rafe Maccon. That Alpha was good, strong, and he’d recently turned down the role of High Alpha, a position of great power over all standard Wolf Shifters. Derrick had followed their trials and tribulations under the Curse of Natalis, and its demise at the hands of a teenager from New Jersey. That young woman had accepted the role Rafe had refused and was now facing hell trying to organize and control the Werewolves of the world and their newfound powers.

All very interesting, but nothing to do with Derrick and his Pack. They were not standard Wolves. They were something else. Something rare and powerful. Seven was all he needed. Derrick’s leather cut, complete with its DWMC patch, flapped in the breeze as he straightened his spine and turned to face the little redheaded menace. He sniffed the air and rolled his head on his neck. Rain was coming.

Patience, he told his beast when his cousin met his stare for a beat too long. She averted her gaze, baring her throat slightly in deference to his inherent dominance.

“Sheila, what is it you’re telling me that you think I don’t know?”

“We need another bartender, Derrick, or we are gonna bomb on opening night.”

“And has no one answered the advertisements you sent?” he asked.

Sheila flipped her red hair and closed and opened her mouth a few times. Sometimes, all it took to stun her into quiet was being reasonable. Fiery little brat.

“I’m just concerned,” she muttered, and he could not blame her in the least.

The Pack had pooled its resources to invest in this venture, and it was a huge risk. Not only because of the money, but because they had never tried anything like this before. Dire Wolves were nomadic creatures, if not by nature, then because of circumstance.

His Pack consisted of the toughest, most loyal badasses in the world as far as Derrick was concerned. He would do everything in his power not to let them down. Especially not baby cousin over here.

“It will work out, Sheila.”

“Yeah, well, I wish I had your confidence,” she replied, biting her lip the same way she had when she was a nervous little kid.

“If you did, you’d be Alpha,” he teased, earning him a smile.

He could hardly believe they were now the proud owners of a real life roadhouse, hovering right on the city limits of Blue Valley, New Jersey. Locals had warned him about the place. Said it got too little traffic to make ends meet, but Derrick was not worried. He had something the previous owners did not.

He was a Shifter, and as such, the supernatural community, though secret from the human world, would come check them out in droves. He hoped to woo them into a steady clientele with his unique food and beverage offerings. The bar itself was a piece of work. It had been abandoned, left to rot, but with a little elbow grease, he and the Pack got it in tiptop shape.

Everything was all neat and polished, ready for business. There were the last minute things that needed fixing, of course, and he would see to it. After he tended to his bike. Customized to fit his bulk and handle his strength by their very own mechanical expert, Cole Mingan, the big beast of a Harley, seemed to call out to the big bad Wolf inside Derrick, begging for a ride.

Cole was good at his job. So good, in fact, that Derrick had decided to give the younger Shifter charge of the twenty classic bikes he’d recently bought and had shipped here to their new permanent address. The idea was to fix them up and put them on display. Sort of a draw for motorcycle fans and would be customers.

Currently, the best looking hogs were lined up on the far side of the roadhouse, which they’d named Serious Moonlight after a unanimous vote. The rest of the bikes were inside the garage, waiting to be fixed.

“Sheila,” Derrick asked after a minute. “Did you advertise for bartenders and waitstaff in both the town weekly circular and the daily newspaper like I told you to?”

Sheila growled, then heaved an exasperated sigh. She was no dummy, but it didn’t hurt to check.

“Course I did, cousin. But we’re strangers here, and small towns on the east coast are not as friendly as I thought they would be,” she replied heavily.

Sheila’s growling grew louder, and when he turned, he saw her staring at the open garage doors, towards the open road. It was a problem he’d been anticipating, the call to roam. But they’d all agreed before coming here, they were committed to trying to grow roots.

Derrick stared at his cousin. Poor thing was trembling from head to toe. Her green eyes were glowing with the force of her Wolf, and fur had already started to sprout along her arms. Another reason they needed a place to settle.

“Be still,” he said, using the force of his power to soothe her angsty beastie.

“Alpha?” He heard her frightened plea and understood it.

Derrick’s eyes narrowed. Sheila was scared, and her pupils were dilated. He growled deep. The rough sound forcing her eyes downward. That was good. She was not too far gone yet. He used his Alpha voice, never to cow, but only to calm her emotionally heightened animal.

“This is a good place for us. I feel it, Sheila. I wouldn’t steer the Pack wrong.”

Sheila closed her eyes, nodding her head. She trusted him, and that was a balm to his heart. After standing perfectly still for one long, drawn out breath, she opened her eyes, and he was pleased to see her Wolf had abated.

“Everything alright?” Brock, his Beta, poked his head inside the garage. Derrick met his eyes, then waved the male away. Things were fine now.

Sheila’s beast had quieted, and Derrick’s felt steady after her helping her through it. That was one of the things he had not expected of being Alpha. Helping his Pack mates calmed his beast, as if he knew his place and reveled in his position.

It was not always easy, and sometimes, he downright hated it. But Derrick was born to lead, like his mama always said. It was a hard road, but he’d been born to it. Leaving life on the road for a place here was difficult for all of them, Sheila more than the rest. He understood her predicament all too well.

As the only female in the Pack, she felt more alone than the rest of them. Their mothers were off, living life in a Pack MC made up of only females. She’d gotten her invite last year but turned them down. Sheila was not ready to give up on the good things yet, and he did not blame her.

Staying put was going to be hard on all of them. Life on the road was not easy, but it was something they knew and understood. This was different. Unchartered territory. Scary and exciting.

Derrick and his Pack had eaten up mile after mile on the backs of their bikes together. They would learn to settle together as well. Pack was family. There was nothing more important than that. But even families had hierarchies, and for Dire Wolf Shifters such as they were, that meant the person who was not only the strongest, but who had the most control was the Alpha, and he was responsible for everyone.

As Alpha, it was Derrick’s job to protect his Pack. Even from themselves. Helping them control their giant, prehistoric animals was one of his responsibilities. Many thought an Alpha ruled by simply dominating around those under his care. They couldn’t be more wrong. Dominance and subjugation had their place, but it was Derrick’s unique ability to control his urges and instincts that made him the undisputed Alpha of their Pack.

“Sorry, cousin. Thank you for helping me, uh, I think I’ll call the paper again.”

Sheila spoke with her eyes downcast, and her throat exposed. Derrick pulled her into a quick hug, patting her shoulder when she stepped away. Dire Wolf Shifters needed touch to settle their animals, and as Alpha he understood and craved that connection as well. He dismissed her gently, worrying his lower lip as she walked away.

“You do that, cousin. I’ll be along shortly,” he murmured, knowing full well she heard him.

Dire Wolf hearing was aces, even after years of listening to motorcycle engines. With that, his attention back on his bike once more.

Always take care of your Pack first, then your wheels, his late father’s voice echoed in his brain as he put away the degreaser and wax.

He grabbed the few rags he’d been using and tossed them on top of his bundle, stooping to pick it up before returning it to the far side of the garage. The rain had started in earnest now, and he wondered if it would be a flash storm or something wilder and more untamed.

Their new property sat alongside an expanse of woods, and Derrick looked forward to running through the mud and tearing through the trees later on tonight in Wolf form. It was one of the perks of this spot. Edge of town, no close neighbors. There was a shopping center fifteen minutes away, but that was back on the highway. A gas station was another ten down the other way, and the road into town was a good twenty minute drive.

They were close enough to have a steady business, and far enough to not get caught in their fur. It was the main reason he’d felt drawn to the old, abandoned bar. The property came with a couple of acres of forest, as well as two other buildings and a large parking lot.

The huge, barnlike structure had already been converted into a makeshift garage. They’d just made it better. It sat at the opposite end of the bar, through the long, paved parking lot. It was perfect for storing, maintaining, and fixing up motorcycles, and the boys had all gone apeshit for it.

A few hundred yards west of the garage, past an old, wooden privacy fence he intended to have replaced with something sturdier, was an enormous two-story house. The driveway for the house was private, and far enough away from the bar to be comfortable. There was a gate in the fence and a lock, only he and his Pack had the key too. The bar crowd could not access it from the parking lot, and that was enough security for him and Sheila and the guys.

It really was some house. At first, grossly overgrown with weeds, field mice, bird's nest, and a host of cobwebs, but after some TLC it was all sparkly and fine to move in. The twelve-bedroom monster had been abandoned for some time, but someone had loved it at some point.

Derrick could see that in the stained glass windows on the doors, and the hand-painted flowers someone had put in every bedroom. The guys moaned and groaned about it, but no one had painted over them just yet. It was a little worse for wear, in truth, all three buildings were, but none had anything wrong with them a little spit and polish couldn’t fix.

They’d been working on it for just a couple of weeks and already the place was unrecognizable. The property positively gleamed. There were new locks on the doors and windows they’d installed. Security systems in place. Cable and Wi-Fi already hooked up. Hell, there was nothing they hadn’t thought of, and when they couldn’t get a crew in well, Derrick and the guys, Sheila too, just dug in themselves. They’d power-washed, scrubbed, scraped, and repainted just about everything, except that flower trim inside the house.

They’d repaired or swapped out most of the outside moldings and trappings, got new TVs, and furniture galore. Sheila, Weylin, and Phoenix were into antiques and had insisted on hitting flea markets and secondhand stores as opposed to ordering everything new, which is what Derrick would have done. Still, he allowed it. It made them happy, and he could see why they preferred older digs. They simply did not make stuff the way they used to, and Dire Wolves required sturdy seats and what not.

Sheila had a real knack for things like that. The older furniture added character and comfort in the house. Lucky for them, the bar had been mostly intact on the inside. They’d had to do a massive cleanup, and the kitchen needed new appliances, but the old wood bars were good.

Thor had sanded and refinished both the front and back bars with Derrick’s help until they gleamed and sparkled. Same for the floors and fixtures. They’d ordered glasses, booze, and a few of the newer, more energy compliant fridges and coolers along with the ovens and prep tables for the kitchen.

Serious Moonlight was a bar first, but they would start with the staples. Wings, Burgers, fries, pretzels, and such. Eventually, they would bring in a larger menu for dining in. His Beta, Brock Laurent, was a talented chef, and Derrick had left him in charge of outfitting the kitchen.

This was a risk. A Huge one for a group of nomadic Shifters, but something about Blue Valley called to Derrick. It pulled him in like a magnetic pole. He sighed as he dropped the bucket of cleaning supplies. They were going to open in just a few days and everything was near perfect. Except for a few minor details. Like hiring another bartender. But all in all, Derrick was confident the Pack would make back their investment and then some.

We damn well better.

The Pack had some money, but this endeavor had taken a huge chunk of that. As Alpha, Derrick was responsible for the money, the investment, and the decision to settle in Blue Valley. Was it the right move? He sure as fuck hoped so.

His Pack was not like others. They needed this. Unique and rare even in the paranormal world, they’d traveled long and hard for an opportunity to settle in a place unoccupied by other Shifter groups. Most Shifters didn’t want the trouble they brought with them.

Not that it was their fault. Not really, anyway. But that’s what happened in supernatural circles, and for the sake of keeping their big secret, it was best their kind stay away from settled areas.

The issue was dominance. Dire Wolves were bigger, stronger, lived longer, and grew more powerful than most other species of Shifter. Derrick was the biggest and baddest of them all. In the past, challenges had come at him from every direction whenever he’d settled in one place for too long. It was his natural dominance combined with the fact he was a rare, and almost extinct species of Shifter.

True, their numbers were few, but they were still kicking and fuck anyone who tried to make it otherwise. Their prehistoric species of beast had died out in the wild thousands of years ago, but their Shifter relatives were still around, though rare and small in number.

The most basic difference between a Wolf Shifter and a Dire Wolf Shifter was size. In their fur, they were more than double the size of the modern Wolf Shifter. That, coupled with their unique ability to tap into elemental magic, made them special as well. His kind practically oozed power and strength.

A fact other Shifters, especially Alphas, had a hard time dealing with. He had no wish to take over other Packs, Prides, or Clans—but did they believe that?

Hell no.

Fuckers always wanted to try to take a piece of him. Not that they got close. Derrick was one hell of a fighter. His body was a testament to that. At almost seven-feet tall and two-hundred-ninety pounds of pure, rock hard muscle, he was, in a word—efuckingnormous.

They all were.

Sheila said it was time they got lucky when he’d been sent the listing from the Shifter Council. Derrick didn’t know a thing about luck, but he was damn grateful for this shot. His entire Pack—Brock, Cole, Phoenix, Weylin, Thor, and Sheila—were all grateful. So tired of life on the road, they’d broken off from their nomadic parent MC two decades ago and had almost immediately started searching for a place they could land.

The graybeards and old ladies didn’t believe any town where Shifters resided, which was every town these days, would ever accept Dire Wolves in their territory. Not without a war, anyway.

It went without saying that Derrick did not want that. War was not good for anyone. He just wanted a small piece of earth to call home for him and his Pack. A place of their own where they could settle down, find mates, maybe even have cubs.

Cubs.

His Dire Wolf growled inside of him. The great black beast’s loneliness was a heavy and constant presence in his heart. It was time to change that. Time to find a mate before he succumbed to the wild side of his existence—a condition that often led to death.

Once a Dire Wolf went feral, there were few who could take him out. It was often left to his Pack to do the dirty work. He did not want that for them.

Derrick watched the rain smack against the newly paved lot and breathed deep. It was true, he’d tried this before. Tried settling once or twice, but it had never felt right. He was taking a hell of a chance, but he had to for the sake of survival.

I’m not ready to call it quits. Not yet. This time will be different.

This time. This place. Derrick would make it work.

Mistakes, accidents, a misalignment of fate or whatever other reasons past attempts had failed were not an option now. Past hurts, jealousy, and bitter disappointments abounded in his memory, forever ingrained in his mind. Yes, he made damn sure he remembered them. All of them. Without memory, history repeated itself, and fuck that. Derrick refused to be a sad statistic.

The tattoos covering his massive frame told his story. The story of his Pack. Good times and bad. Every significant event in his life and the lives of his ancestors covered his arms, chest, stomach, and even his legs.

His back, though, that was bare. An empty canvas of skin and muscle. That place was reserved for his future mate, his family. He’d left it alone solely for the bonding ritual that would one day complete his mating to his one and only true mate.

He’d only ever seen it done once, and Derrick had wanted it for himself ever since that day. He wanted someone of his own. Someone to love, to protect, and cherish for all his days.

Gods willing.