Alyssa's Wolves (Wolf Masters, Book 4)(8)

At twenty-four, he was just now out of school and job hunting. Somehow that made Wells feel that his time wasn’t valuable at the moment, and he’d been sent to track Alyssa and report back. Tyler shivered, a chill running down his back when he considered the ramifications of telling Wells Alyssa was not mated. Lord knew what that jackass would do.

Didn’t matter now. He’d never tell Wells a thing. His sudden moment of clarity between the trees was expanding by the second.

The women were easy to follow. There were four of them, all dolled up for an evening of entertainment. One was hugely pregnant. They were so carefree. Giggling. Joking. Without a care in the world.

With no haste, the women ambled toward the arena and headed to their seats—not without stopping at numerous booths outside to ogle over various knickknacks, cowboy hats, western wear, and jewelry.

Instead of feeling aggravated, Tyler grinned. He wished his mother and the other women he knew in Oklahoma could live this easy life.

Since he’d spent the last several years mingling with humans and other shifters at the university, he’d noticed that shifters in other packs behaved like humans. Enjoyed life. Laughed. The women in his pack did not.

The Masters women most certainly loved life.

As Alyssa rounded a corner to head up into the stands, Tyler followed. He glanced around the ramp wall, watched the women take seats about a dozen rows up, and then took the first step in their direction. And froze.

Holy mother of God.

Tyler stiffened and then quickly yanked himself back into the ramp. He plastered his back to the wall, his chest pounding, gasping for air. Alyssa’s scent permeated his awareness.

“Are you okay, sir?”

Tyler jerked his head up and found an elderly employee standing right in front of him, brow wrinkled in concern.

“Oh, yes. Yes. Thank you. I’m fine.”

Not even a little bit fine.

Tyler had to get the hell out of there and fast. Like now. Run.

Walking at least as fast as a gold medal winner for speed walking, Tyler scurried toward the exit, pushed through the turnstile to the outdoor arena, and fled for his car as though his pants were on fire. He had to get out of Dodge, and then Oregon, as fast as possible. Before the women saw him, before Alyssa spotted him. And Lord help him, he prayed, for her sake, she hadn’t noticed him. Maybe she’d been distracted enough laughing with her friends to not have scented his presence.

He knew two things for certain. One—he never ever wanted Alyssa to know he’d been there. He would do nothing to upset her world or change the path she was on. The Masters were good people and perfect for her.

And two—she was most certainly not mated to Michael Masters because Alyssa Franklin was his mate.

*

Alyssa’s head whipped up. She glanced around, the voices of her friends suddenly muted beside her. She gripped the armrests on both sides of her, white knuckling them until her fingers hurt. Her gaze darted back and forth, but no one seemed to be looking her direction. Not many people had even taken their seats.

Her mate was here. There was no doubt about it. All three of her friends, the other Masters women as she fondly thought of them, had told her what it’d been like when they first caught the scent of their mates.

And they hadn’t lied. Sensory overload. She breathed in his scent as though he were right next to her. It blocked out all other smells. Her body warmed. Her hands shook. She needed to see him like she needed her next breath. The man she’d spend the rest of her life with was nearby. And he was lupine.

Where was he?

“Alyssa? Hon? You okay?” Kara had a grip on her arm, and Alyssa looked down at her friend. She’d not even realized she’d stood.

She couldn’t speak. Her mouth was dry, and her throat wouldn’t cooperate. Alyssa swallowed and licked her lips, her gaze still roaming the area. Without a word, she climbed over Kara and then a very pregnant Jessica and, in a panic now, rushed down the stairs leading up to their seats. The scent had vanished.

Alyssa darted back in the direction they’d entered the stands. No one. She scanned the growing crowd. Not a soul was paying any attention to her, and the smell of her mate grew fainter by the moment.

At the turnstile she looked out into the crowd and took a deep breath. The scent was gone. He was gone. Vanished like he’d never been there. Except Alyssa knew he’d been there. She wasn’t crazy.

Where did he go? Why? Didn’t he sense her as she’d sensed him? Is that why he split so fast?

She glanced down at herself. She was wearing her best westernwear—a sexy aqua top and low-rise jeans that hugged her to perfection. Her favorite outfit. Was there a chance her mate hadn’t liked what he’d seen?