Chapter One
Patch Williams didn’t believe in fate, true love, or the possibility her shift would end before her patience snapped. Tapping her fingertips on the counter, she mentally counted to ten before answering the elderly customer glaring at her from across the space provided by the glass surface. She hated this time of year due to their annual visits alone. “No, seriously, it really is fifty cents, and I can’t go lower.”
“Bah. This is a used purse. You’ll be lucky if someone gives you a quarter.” The old woman pushed the bag across the counter before spinning on one orthopedic shoe to head to the door on a wave of outraged indignity. “Come along, Darcy. We’re not giving money to her kind anyway.”
Her kind? And what kind is do you mean? The kind not willing to give away the stock for free? Or maybe the kind that bathes more than once a month? Oh, I know…the kind who could eat you if the mood took me .
Blowing out a breath, Patch closed her eyes and struggled with her annoyance as the two matronly women exited the building arm in arm. A Friday at the beginning of the month always meant some of the older people from the surrounding hills found their way down off whatever parts of the mountains they lived on—most from tiny, isolated cabins, unchanged since their ancestors came to the Wild West in search of whatever piece of land they might claim—to garner supplies, catch up with neighbors, and harass shopkeepers.
Although she recognized it for what it was—the coming snows meant they’d not be down the mountain for who knew how long, if ever, since some of them might not make it through the winter—it didn’t help her patience with them. Picking up the “used” brown purse and returning it to the rack— fifty cents for Coach and the woman expects me to go down on the price? —Patch rubbed her temples and headed to the rear of her shop.
She loved pretty things, old things, things that carried a story with each stitch or tarnish, but elderly humans were a different story. Something about the way they’d swat at her, disregard her, underestimate her…it just pushed her buttons in all the wrong ways. Behind the curtain, she stroked the leather mask she’d laid out earlier. Tonight, she would go to her club, play, and escape from the mundane world for a moment. For at least a little while, she wouldn’t be Patch, least important member of the pack and smiling customer service representative. She’d be something more. Something sexy and desired….
She sometimes feared what the pack would do if they ever discovered the full truth of her forays or caught a sniff of what she did at the private club, but not enough to stop going. As a submissive Wolf, she respected and obeyed the dictates she’d been given, even when they’d been led by a sadistic bastard, but none of it meant she had to enjoy obeying. It did mean she was wired to follow their directions, but….
What the Alpha didn’t know couldn’t hurt her.
Besides, with Ryker distracted by his new mate and Drew busy trying to keep everyone else in order, who had time to bother with a little nobody like her? The leather felt supple under her fingertips, and she wished she dared more trips to the dungeon. Her appetites never seemed sated, hadn’t for a long time. Humans were fun—they knew how to have a good time, how to make her body arch in pleasure, and when she needed a firm smack to her ass to take her to the next level—but a part of her longed for more. Especially since her pack mates had started pairing off, one by one drawn into the lure of mating. Sure, she might wish for a man who understood her and loved her…even if every Wolf she’d ever met would be disgusted by the stuff she liked in the sack.
Annoyed with her own woolgathering, she shoved aside the curtain to return to the front. Since the bell hadn’t rung, Gee standing in her shop should have sent her heart racing….
If he’d been
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