Reluctantly Lycan (Dakota Wolves Book 1)
Jez Strider
Book Description
The Dakota pack has lived secretly in a town in the Great Smoky Mountains for years. Marala Dakota ran away from the safety of this world as a heartbroken, pregnant teenager. She's made a life for herself and her son without having anything to do with the wolves.
Seventeen years have passed since that fateful decision. She's struggling with two jobs and trying to keep the wolf within her at bay as its longing for escape intensifies.
A handsome man named Taylor comes into her life at exactly the wrong time.
Then her son's father and leader of the Dakota pack, Kaden, shows up unexpectedly. Old wounds are torn open anew and events are set in motion that will change all of their lives forever.
1
A full moon hung high in the night sky. The illuminated orb always put Marala Dakota on edge. She picked up her glass of bottom shelf wine and a pack of cigarettes before climbing out onto the fire escape for her monthly ritual. With a shaky hand, she flicked her lighter to life and lit what she knew was a cancer stick. The alcohol and tobacco helped relieve some of the anxiety. She wouldn't do anything reckless. But this moon was harder to deal with than usual, and she knew next month's would be even worse.
June was around the corner and so was her birthday. That damned day tradition stated she should have gone through her transition. Only she hadn't gone through it when she was eighteen and now seventeen years had passed. This birthday she'd be thirty-five and life had never become any easier. Marala knew for certain it wouldn't get better.
She finished off her wine in a quick gulp and lit another smoke. Nights like this she questioned every choice she'd ever made, regretted them all, and then eventually decided they were the right ones. Most nights she would have been in bed by now after working two jobs. The first at a diner in the mornings and the second an evening shift at a gas station.
"Mom!" her son called out. "Are you outside?"
Quickly, she took one last drag off the cigarette and tossed it over the railing. It disappeared into the darkness of the alleyway below. As vocal as she was about the dangers of smoking, she didn't want her son catching her in the act.
After exhaling, she headed back inside away from the manipulative moon. "Needed some fresh air before bed. Everything okay? Homework done?"
Jak nodded. He looked nothing like her except for his eyes were the same, odd yellow-green. His dark hair and build made him a spitting image of his father, especially now as he neared adulthood. Thinking about it made Marala's throat tighten, and she brought her hand up to it in a nervous gesture as the fear took hold.
"You're the one who doesn't look okay." He frowned. "I wish you'd let me pick up a few extra hours at the movie theater so I could help out more around here. You never get to rest."
Her eyes softened and she hugged him tightly to her. "I can rest when I'm dead. Besides, your school work is more important."
"Whatever." The seventeen year old young man squirmed out of her embrace and walked toward his room. "I'm going to bed. ‘Night!"
"Goodnight." She felt tears form in her eyes and silently cursed the moon for causing her erratic behavior.
Marala watched until Jak disappeared through his door and made haste to the kitchen to refill her glass. The cheap wooden chair she slumped down onto wobbled. One leg was slightly shorter than the rest. She placed her elbows on the table and buried her face in her hands. Life had always been one step forward and three steps back. Every time she'd almost caught up with the bills, something else had happened to knock her back down into the dirt. For the amount of time she had spent kicked to the ground, she'd have been better off mud wrestling in a bikini on local access television.
For an hour, she stayed in that same spot, trying to find some sort of peace in her mind. It wasn't until her bottle of cheap wine was empty that she went to her bedroom and lay down. In four hours, she'd have to wake up and get ready for work. When the alarm clock finally went off, she hadn't slept a wink, but at least the damned full moon had been replaced by the splendid warmth of the sun.
2
Sunday morning meant the diner would be packed with early risers, and then later in the afternoon with people stopping in after church. Marala looked forward to the distraction.
She had spent half an hour in the shower. The water only stayed hot for about fifteen minutes, but the cold water helped her kick-start the day. She ran her hands through her hair before pulling the red locks up into a tight ponytail. Satisfied, she made the short trip to her son's room and knocked on the door.
"Jak, I'm leaving."
He gave an unintelligible grumble. Marala sighed and picked up her purse on her way out. She checked the door twice to make sure it was locked. The low class part of New York wasn't quite in the slums, but it was close. Every time she left Jak alone she worried about some drugged out loser breaking in. It wouldn't have been the first time. At least they were both working during that burglary.
The walk to work took about thirty minutes. Mara had made the trek nearly every day since she'd run away, pregnant and alone. Her gaze drifted downward and she walked without thinking about how to get to her destination. She had fled with enough money to rent the apartment and take a few weeks off after her son was born. Since then, life had been work … day end, day out.
Pausing in front of the diner, she finally lifted her head and looked around. Normally, George the mailman greeted her with a wave. She grew concerned before remembering it was a Sunday. Everything else was the same as the previous day. The ‘D' on the diner sign flickered, familiar faces filed inside when Hilary unlocked the door, and there Marala was, dressed in Pepto pink and a stupid hat.
What would my life have been like if I'd stayed?
That idea led to bad thoughts and regrets. She forced it from her mind, entered the restaurant, and clocked in. It was far too late to change the past.
"Rough night, Mara?" Hilary asked, holding out an apron for Marala.
"Insomnia."
"I thought your admirer might have kept you up all night with steamy sex. I know better than that, though. You're too uptight." She placed a hand on Marala's arm and led her to the door. "He's here already."
Hilary blatantly pointed so Marala pushed her coworker's hand down. "He's not into me. He likes the pie." The man came to the diner most days and seeing him was one of the few things she looked forward to. Not that the conversation had ever gone past the weather or waffles.
"Your pie," Hilary said.
"Ugh, you're disgusting." Marala couldn't help but smile a little, though, as she watched her loyal customer unfold his napkin and place it in his lap.
His name was Taylor Andin. She'd read it on his credit card the first time he'd bought lunch and she had been his waitress. He was a tall man, not overly broad, but lean and athletic. His hair was spiked a little and gelled, but not very long. Brown eyes, high cheekbones, and a friendly smile rounded out his face. Marala couldn't bring herself to admit it, but she had a crush on him.
"Mara?"
She blinked a few times. "Right, sorry. Let me get to work before I fall asleep." With a swipe of her hands down the front of her uniform, she smoothed the fabric and headed toward Taylor's table.
"Lovely as ever, Ms. Mara," he said, tilting his head back to gaze up at her with a warm grin.
"Mr. Andin. You're far too kind." She could feel herself blush. The effect threw her off since she typically despised most men who flirted with her. "Having the usual or would you like to be adventurous today?"
He bit his lip lightly. "Should I take a chance and try something new?"
The way he eyed her made it difficult to form a response. She pretended to make a note on the paper in her hand. "I'd go with the usual."
Taylor leaned back, one arm stretching over the cushion of the booth seat. "If the lady says the usual, then that's what I'll have."
"Great. I'll have your coffee out in a jiffy." She turned on her heels and disappeared into the kitchen. In her mind, letting a man like that get to you meant one thing … trouble.
~*~
Taylor ate his dessert, one of the diner's "homemade" key lime pies, as slowly as possible. He gulped down his cup of coffee each time Marala had refilled it so she would have to return to his table that much sooner. The woman fascinated him. How were her eyes a color he had never seen? Why was she so standoffish? Was that her natural hair color? He grinned to himself on that last one, wanting to check for himself if the carpet matched the drapes.