Reluctantly Lycan (Dakota Wolves Book 1)(2)

When he could manage it, which was often, he would take a cab across  town from where he lived to eat at the restaurant. If not for a friend  promising the best pie in town, Taylor would have never eaten in the  diner and never encountered the beautiful waitress.

She was on her way back again with the coffee pot. He placed his hand  over his cup and shook his head. One more sip and he predicted he'd  burst. "I'm good, thank you."

Marala nodded and tore off his check slip, placing it face down on the  table. He noted her long fingers and that the nails were chewed to the  quick even worse than usual.                       
       
           



       

"Sure there's nothing else I can get you?" she asked, one hand resting on her hip and the coffee pot in the other.

"You could go out with me sometime," he said casually. "Is that on the menu?"

"Thought you were sticking to what you know today." She looked at him,  but without making eye contact. Her voice was the sexiest sound he'd  ever heard. Not musical or dainty, but husky and deep. Strong and sultry  like a vixen.

"Guess that's a no." He laughed, shaking his head.

Marala glanced around. "It's not you. You're a good looking man and so  very kind to me." He'd never heard that softness in her tone before. "I  have a kid and two jobs. Dating is kind of on the back burner. I'm lucky  I'm awake right now."

Taylor pulled out his wallet and placed his Visa card on the bill  without checking the total. "So let me make your family dinner sometime.  I'm a great cook and you've given me plenty of great meals."

She wavered, he could see it in her expression, but a deeper worry  creased her brow, something greater than lack of time. "Okay, but only  if we don't call it a date. It's two people …  umm … ."

"Talking and eating?" He grinned and then snatched her notepad from her  right pocket. His phone number was written on it when he handed it back  to her. "Call me the next time you're off and I will come to your house  to make dinner."

"What if I never call?"

"Well, I see you at work all the time so you can't avoid me forever. I mean it. Call me soon."

To his surprise, she gave him an exact time on the spot. "I work here  and then my other job earlier than usual on Wednesday, so I will be home  by seven o'clock."

"Perfect. Write down your address."

Marala wrote down the apartment number, appearing surprised herself, and  handed it to him. Without another word, she picked up his credit card  and walked off to take care of his bill. A short time later she returned  with a receipt for him to sign.

"Have a nice day, Mr. Andin," she said.

"Only if you call me Taylor." He laughed a little, trying to keep the mood light.

"Taylor. I look forward to our …  meal." In quick steps, she walked away.

He replaced the card in his wallet then removed a one hundred dollar  bill and placed it on the table under a salt shaker. Even though he  considered himself a nice guy, he'd never left anyone a tip so large. If  times were so tough, he figured she could use the extra cash.

~*~

Marala returned to clear off Taylor's table knowing he left tips. Always  at least five dollars even if all he had was a piece of pie and coffee.  At first she thought he'd left a one dollar bill, but when she picked  up the salt shaker she saw the two zeros.

"Oh no." She crushed the money in her hand and ran out the front door.  Taylor stood a short distance away with his arm extended, hailing a cab.  "Mr. Andin!" Waving her arm and yelling, she attempted to get his  attention.

He turned around and raised his left eyebrow. "I knew you would fling yourself helplessly into my arms. I'm charming like that."

"What? If that's your fantasy, you'll have more luck searching for a damsel in distress. Not me."

Taylor smirked. "I was kidding. What are you doing?"

She offered him the money. "You left me a hundred instead of a one or five."

His expression changed from a playful smirk to something softer. "I meant to leave it. Now you've made this awkward."

"You meant to?" Her eyes went down to her hand and she shook her head  before looking up. "I can't accept charity, but thank you for the  gesture."

"It's not charity. It's gratuity."

The yellow cab parked in front of them. A driver leaned over. "You gettin' in or not?"

"See you Wednesday, beautiful." Taylor winked and grabbed the door handle.

In a rush, she ran the numbers through her mind and called out an  educated guess. "You can't give me a two thousand percent tip!"

"I just did." He sat down in the back of the taxi and waved as Marala stared on.

Conflicted with anger and admiration, she shoved the money into her  pocket before jogging to the diner. By the end of the shift, her feet  would hurt and she'd want to strangle several customers, but a smile  played on her lips every time she thought about Taylor Andin.





3


Kaden Dakota drove his Jeep away from his secluded hometown nestled  securely in the forests of the Great Smoky Mountains. The land had been  granted to his grandfather as a refuge for his people. The state  government hadn't approved, but fangs and claws tend to be great  motivators during negotiations.                       
       
           



       

Chief Dakota's ancestors were a mixture of Cherokee and other tribes.  Like most people in America these days, his DNA was a combination of all  sorts. One thing linked all his ancestors despite their origins …  the  wolf gene.

That gene was why he was leaving, why he needed to speak to Marala, and  why his son needed to return with him to the safety of the pack. He  glanced in the rear-view mirror as the foggy forests of his home faded  into the background. His eyes returned to the road, but not before he  caught a glimpse of himself.

Will he look like me? he wondered. Kaden had never seen his son before.  Seventeen years and never even a photo. He couldn't blame Marala for  leaving. Back then, he'd been an asshole. Hell, he still was. The pack  meant more than one woman, and he'd be damned if he'd beg her to return.  Her disappearance had brought dishonor down upon him. It still did. An  unmated leader hardly received the respect he was due. Sure, to his face  everyone said the right things, but he knew they whispered and stole  furtive glances in his direction.

Over the years, he'd been to more bonding ceremonies than he could  count. Not once had a female chosen him. After a few years, he'd lost  hope they would. It was Mara who bore his mark on her back. They had  both been branded after being born under the full strawberry moon within  minutes of each other.

With a growl, he gripped the steering wheel tighter. If she wouldn't  listen, he vowed to take the boy and leave her without a word. She'd no  doubt lost some of her beauty since she hadn't mated with him on her  eighteenth birthday and aged faster than if she had. It would be easy to  resist her, ignore her scent. She was barely a wolf at all.

His skin crawled a little. The thought brought back a rush of memories  of lying with her in the meadows under the moon and making love until  the sun rose. Stupid teenage nostalgia. A chief was above such silly  trivialities.

Then again, she had taken his last name for herself and the boy. That  part he couldn't figure out. If she wanted to hide, why would she use  his last name? Nothing the fiery redheaded beauty did made sense, and it  was maddening.

She would have been such an amazing looking wolf. He cursed under his  breath and turned on the stereo. Maybe if the music was loud enough he  could drown everything else out. Angry, hardcore metal filled the  vehicle and his mouth drew into a grim line. He was losing it. Males  that went too long without bonding with a mate became extremely  dangerous and unstable.

~*~

On Tuesday night when Marala returned home from her shift at the gas  station, she went to work cleaning her two bedroom apartment from top to  bottom. Taylor would be there tomorrow, and it was the only free time  she had to do it. Her excitement and nervousness pushed her into a manic  cleaning mode.

"What are you doing, Mom?" Jak asked on his way to the refrigerator for a snack.

"I told you I have a friend coming by to make us dinner tomorrow. The house needs to look nice."

Jak scoffed. "Not possible. This building would have to be imploded and rebuilt."

"I do the best I can." Losing motivation and with exhaustion creeping up on her, Marala slumped onto the sofa.

"Hey, I didn't mean anything by it. I know you work hard. I'm sorry." He  walked into the living room and sat down beside his mother.