Mate's Call Read online

  “Of course you can say no, he’s just a guy!”

  “Yeah, you would say that.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Quinn demanded.

  “Oh, come on!” Carla cried. “If hottie River Wylde asked you out, would you say no to him?”

  River found himself holding his breath.

  “If it meant bailing on my best friend,” said Quinn, “yes.”

  “Liar.”

  There was a moment of silence on the line, and River heard shuffling noises, assuming Quinn had sat down somewhere. A couch, it sounded like.

  “Fine,” she scoffed. “I probably wouldn’t be able to say no.”

  “See?”

  A smirk ran across River’s lips, and he lowered his gaze to the floor, almost feeling ashamed for listening in on their conversation. He decided to leave the women to it and stepped away—quite literally.

  It was part of his way to ’leave’ a conversation by actually walking away and focusing his attention elsewhere. He stepped out of the kitchen and made his way downstairs, still wearing the smirk on his face.

  When Quinn had spoken to him in town, he had pretended not to know who she was, but that was not the case. Ever since Quinn and her mother had moved to Jackson, River had noticed her. He couldn’t quite explain why, but the moment he had first seen her nearly seven years ago, it was as if his entire world had stopped for a second. Everything else around him had faded into the background, and for the first time in his life, his mind was quiet.

  There was no noise.

  Quinn was the reason for it; he was convinced of that. Every time River saw her, even if it was from a distance, everything went quiet, and the relief he felt from it was intoxicating. That was why River had decided to attend the community college. Even though he had various degrees from a string of prestigious universities in the country, he didn’t mind. For Quinn, he’d do anything.

  River had promised himself that after what had happened to his family, he’d make sure to keep a low profile, but he knew that plan had jumped out the window when he had met Quinn. He needed to see her, to be close to her, and he knew exactly why.

  When he was a young boy, his mother often told him tales of the first time she had seen his father. She had described it as a magical and terrifying experience that couldn’t be described unless it had been lived through. His brothers disregarded her stories of imprinting and didn’t believe that there was one single mate out there for them, but River had sometimes heard them talking to either themselves or to one another about how great it would be to finally find their mate.

  Unlike them, River—who was the most sensitive of his brothers, especially at a younger age—had openly looked forward to eventually meeting his mate. He had just never been prepared for who it would be.

  Usually, wolves would imprint on other werewolves, but River knew quite well that Quinn was completely human. Not that it bothered him.

  Well, maybe a little.

  Humans were so slow and fragile, and he constantly wondered if his imprinting had been a mistake. He couldn’t possibly see Quinn being completely okay with him shifting into a wolf at any given time. It frustrated him that he had to pretend not to know who she was when all he wanted to do was grab her and run into the woods with her. He reckoned she might think he was a psychopath wanting to take her into the woods to murder her.

  Stranger things had happened.

  “Look, we can meet up tomorrow night for dinner,” he suddenly heard Carla say to Quinn, once more listening in on their conversation.

  “Seriously? Are they still on the phone?” he muttered to himself.

  “Okay, where?” Quinn asked.

  “I’ll text you tomorrow. You’re not mad at me, are you? I’ll make it up to you, I swear!”

  “It’s fine, Carla,” Quinn answered, though she sounded more like she had given up trying to fight her friend. “Go have fun with Randy. Just be careful, okay?”

  “I promise!”

  “Enjoy your date, then,” Quinn said.

  “I will,” Carla replied, and the line went dead.

  River sat down on the large leather sofa and frowned. Quinn started to talk to her mother, who entered her bedroom, and they had a brief conversation about what Quinn’s plans were. Her mother was surprised that she was staying in on a Friday night while ‘all the cool kids’ were hanging out. A smile formed on his lips as he heard Quinn groan at her mother’s choice of words, and he continued to hear Quinn while she moved about her room, finally ending up listening to music through her headphones. It was a woeful piece, and River couldn’t help but feel melancholic along with her. He wondered whether something had happened to her that would evoke this choice of music.

  A burning feeling rose up inside him, and he knew that he needed to see her, though he also knew that he couldn’t just show up at her door.

  A sudden knock on the door made him jolt, and River whirled around. Through the glass panes of the door, he noticed one of his betas, Blaze. It was a strange time for Blaze to show up at his house, which probably meant he was here for a reason.

  “Blaze,” River greeted him, opening the door.

  “I’m sorry to bother you,” Blaze said, “but I have news from the East.”

  “Come in,” River said as he stepped aside, allowing Blaze to enter the house. Once Blaze was inside, River glanced around the front of the house with paranoia in his blue eyes.

  “I made sure I wasn’t being followed,” Blaze pointed out, instantly picking up on River’s discomfort.

  “Good,” River said, and he motioned to the couch. Blaze nodded and sat down, with River following suit. “What news do you have from the East, Blaze?”

  “Jax and I were hiking, and we saw footprints that did not belong to any of the pack members.”

  River tensed. “How many?”

  “Just one set of tracks,” Blaze told him. “Didn’t look like they were just passing through.”

  “Did Jax not see anything else that might give an indication as to who the footprints belong to?”

  “Well...” Blaze’s voice trailed off, and he glanced at River with slight hesitation.

  “Well, what?” River demanded, growing more impatient by the second.

  “It’s definitely one of our kind, but older,” Blaze finally said.

  “Older? What do you mean older?”

  “Those tracks were much bigger than any tracks I had ever seen. Even yours,” he went on.

  River glanced away from Blaze, his mind whirling. Another wolf? One that wasn’t part of the pack? He supposed it was possible, though he couldn’t understand how. If another wolf had come to Jackson, River would have noticed something was wrong.

  “What do you suggest we do?” Blaze asked, bringing him out of his thoughts.

  “I want you and Jax to keep hiking, be on the lookout for anything suspicious. I’ll let Aro know what’s going on, and he can hike to the West in case the wayward wolf heads in that direction,” River instructed. “I will keep an eye in town in case he or she decides to pay the town a visit and snack on the local cuisine.”

  “Will do,” Blaze answered. “I could do with a snack right now.”

  “Later,” River muttered, and he glanced at the large wooden grandfather clock that stood in the corner of the living area. Blaze seemed to follow his gaze.

  “I should get going,” he said. River nodded, watching his beta as he quickly headed out the front door, disappearing into the woods behind River’s house.

  River frowned as he ran his fingers through his hair and slowly paced around the room, the soles of his shoes thumping on the dark wood floorboards. He had to find out more about the intruder. It didn’t make any sense that a larger wolf was running around the mountains on its own. Usually, a lone wolf was a weak wolf who had been kicked out of his pack to either fend for himself or die; whichever came first. They tended to be smaller.

  River glanced at the front door, noticing the snow falling down
outside. A howl from the East echoed through the silence, and River stopped pacing immediately, trying to locate where exactly it had come from. Its volume meant that it was closer to town than to his home.

  Closer to town meant closer to Quinn.

  River’s eyes widened in panic.

  He had to get over there.

  He had to make sure that she was safe.

  He had to see it for himself, without her knowing about it.

  Within a short while, River stood outside Quinn’s house, glancing through the window. He remained hidden from sight as he stared at her nestled on the couch with a warm blanket, sound asleep in front of the television.

  River felt peaceful, and his mind was quiet. It was amazing—and frankly, slightly unbelievable—that a human could have such a positive effect on him. Most encounters with humans were hostile, even though they did nothing to provoke them or make them feel as though they should fear for their lives. Humans were strange creatures, and River had given up trying to understand them, especially their emotions.

  Except for Quinn.

  She was different.

  He continued to watch her from the shadows for a while as she peacefully slept. Her mother arrived home and woke her up, and River found the groggy look on her face adorable. He was yet again reminded of how human she was, and it discouraged him from giving in to the urges inside him.

  He knew it was a relationship destined to fail. Humans and wolves didn’t mix well, and every attempt anyone had ever made ended in innocent blood being spilled. That was the last thing he wanted, even more so if it was Quinn’s blood.

  As River watched her go upstairs, he made a note to himself to thank her one day for being his solace in a very loud and chaotic world, but he feared that he might never get that chance. Even though she had told Carla that she wouldn’t be able to say no to her, he wasn’t convinced that she could handle him.

  He wasn’t convinced that she could handle the truth about him.

  3

  Quinn opened her eyes to the sound of her phone beeping at an alarming rate. She groaned as she rolled onto her side and pulled the blanket up to her face. She knew very well that it was Carla texting her, telling her about her date with Randy. Carla was the type of person who didn’t send one long message, instead choosing to text several messages with a single sentence. Sure, it drove Quinn a little crazy, but it showed Carla’s need to express herself in short bursts of excitement.

  As her phone continued to beep, Quinn groaned once more and muttered, “Give it a rest, Carla.” Since the beeping didn’t stop, Quinn sat up in bed with a tired sigh and grabbed her phone to call her best friend.

  “Why aren’t you answering my texts?” Carla asked frantically. “Did I wake you?”

  “Just a little, though I think our entire block is awake now thanks to you,” Quinn answered as she ran her fingers through her hair, parting it to one side.

  “Oh, I’m sorry!” Carla said. “I was just excited about my date.”

  Quinn took the phone away from her ear and glanced at the screen. “With twenty-five messages, I gathered that.”

  “Only twenty-five? I’m totally losing my edge.”

  Quinn chuckled and shook her head. “So, hit me with the details.”

  She stood from her bed and walked over to the window while she listened to Carla describe her date with the infamous Randy, whom she’d had a crush on for as long as Quinn had known her.

  Quinn could still remember the very week she had met Carla. Her now-best-friend had dragged her along on a stakeout, following Randy around town. Quinn had thought Carla was obsessed and that the whole idea could get them both locked up, but it had turned out to be a lot of fun. After Carla had dropped Quinn off at home, she’d said, “No one’s ever hung out with me through my crazy ideas. So I guess it makes us friends, or future cellmates, or something. See you tomorrow?”

  And the rest was history.

  Even though it wasn’t how most people would describe the beginning of their friendships, the one between Quinn and Carla was as strong as it was unique.

  Quinn glanced out the window and frowned as she noticed two handprints in the snow on her windowsill. It looked as though someone had been outside her window, but that would be impossible, since her room was on the second floor of the house. Carla continued to speak over the phone, and even though Quinn was distracted by the disturbed snow on the windowsill, she occasionally gave Carla an indication that she was still listening, or pretending to listen, at least. She glanced out at the backyard and noticed a set of footprints in the snow. Her heart pounded in her chest as her eyes widened, and she took a few deep breaths.

  “Quinn? You’re breathing loudly. Are you okay?”

  Still staring at the set of tracks in the snow, Quinn said, “Let me call you back.”

  She disconnected the call before Carla could say anything else. She placed her phone down on the dresser and went downstairs. The house was quiet, and she wondered where her mother was.

  “Mom?” she called out, but there was no answer. Her mother’s car wasn’t in the driveway, so Quinn gathered she was in town, running errands. After she put on her jacket and boots, she opened the back door and stepped out onto the snow-covered backyard, walking toward the footprints. From her bedroom window, they had looked like human footprints, but upon closer inspection, they looked more like animal footprints.

  Quinn frowned as she knelt down in the snow and reached out her hand. Her hand hovered above one of the pawprints, and her eyes widened; it was about the same size as her hand. She looked up and around the backyard, but there was nothing, obviously.

  “Please tell me you found buried treasure.” Her mother’s voice suddenly pierced the silence, and Quinn’s body jolted, causing her to lose her balance, and she fell flat on the snow. The pajama pants she had worn to bed the previous night were made from thin cotton, and the cold went straight through the fabric.

  “Holy crap, that’s cold!” Quinn whined as she stood up and glanced at her mother. “Why couldn’t we have moved somewhere warmer?” she complained.

  “You know why, honey,” her mother answered as she made her way across the yard. “What are you doing out here, anyway? It’s freezing.”

  Quinn pointed to the animal tracks. “Look.”

  “It’s a set of dog prints, Quinn,” her mother said in a rather unimpressed tone. “There are lots of dogs running around, you know. That’s what they do.”

  “Just look at the size of it!” Quinn argued. “It’s not from a dog.”

  Her mother glanced down at the prints in the snow, and she frowned. “Those are rather big. What else can it be? A wolf?”

  “Maybe,” Quinn said, glancing up at her window. “We often hear them howling at night. Do you think one could’ve wandered into town?”

  “Well, I’ll call Sheriff Howler and ask him to keep a lookout, just in case,” her mother said. “Now get back inside before you freeze your ass off.”

  Quinn smiled at her mother’s clever use of words and followed her back inside. As she closed the back door, she glanced at the backyard one more time, wondering whether the animal tracks in the snow had any connection with the handprints on her windowsill. Maybe a wolf had chased a man, and the man had climbed up the gutter and grabbed the sill. But if that had been the case, then there would be human footprints as well; as far as Quinn could see, there were none.

  Unless it was…

  Quinn laughed at herself and turned away from the door. She couldn’t believe that, for a moment, she had considered the possibility that it could be a werewolf.

  “What’s so funny?” her mother asked.

  “I just had a crazy thought,” she shrugged. “Where did you go by the way? I was looking for you earlier.”

  “I went to the store. We were out of apples, and I thought I could make some apple pie for tonight!”

  Quinn groaned slightly. “Oh, shoot. Carla and I are supposed to go to dinner tonight.” She si
ghed and ran her fingers through her hair. “Raincheck?”

  Her mother pretended to think about it, glancing up at the ceiling. Then she heaved out a small sigh and turned to Quinn with a smile. “Sure thing, honey.”

  “Thanks, Mom,” said Quinn. “That reminds me! I have to call Carla back.”

  She went up the stairs two at a time and marched into her room. She grabbed her phone, which already had a few messages from Carla, and she called her back.

  “Oh, my god! What happened to you?” Carla’s shrill and hysterical voice cried over the phone, causing Quinn to flinch.

  “Sorry, I was downstairs with my mom—”

  “Is everything okay?” Carla asked.

  Quinn looked out the window and pursed her lips briefly. “Yeah, everything is good. My mom just needed my help with something. Anyway, are we still going to dinner tonight?”

  “Yes,” Carla replied, though her tone sounded like she wanted to get back to the subject of Quinn abruptly hanging up the phone earlier. “Uh, how about The Red Cherry at seven?”

  “Sounds good,” Quinn answered.

  “All right, then! See you later!” Carla said cheerfully.

  Quinn disconnected the call and glanced out of the window once more, hoping that she was wrong in thinking that werewolves actually existed. It was impossible, but then she remembered what Carla had said to her—that weird things were going on in Jackson lately. Could one of those weird things be that werewolves were actually real?

  Quinn shook her head to herself. She refused to believe such nonsense.

  It was just after six when Quinn slipped on her jacket, ready to meet Carla, and stopped in her tracks as her phone buzzed in her pocket. A frown ran across her face as she glanced at the screen. It was a text from Carla saying that she had changed her mind about the restaurant, and that they should meet at Rossco’s instead of The Red Cherry. Quinn didn’t think much of it—she was used to Carla’s indecisive nature. Rossco’s was on the outskirts of town, but Quinn didn’t mind the drive.

  “Mom, I’m leaving!” Quinn called out.