December 1992
Dillon waited for the gas station pump to issue his receipt after filling up his truck. He’d just finished delivering a trailer full of square bales of hay to a farmer outside of town, and now Dillon was headed fifty miles back to Coldspring. The land was nearly entirely flat and mostly devoted to the grazing of cattle. The occasional grouping of trees offered small slivers of shade in the summer, but now they were bare and stood out like a sore thumb in the dead grass of the large pastures. It was chilly, but nothing like the winters he remembered in Montana. As he pulled open his driver’s side door, Dillon felt his wolf suddenly come howling to attention.
“Focus.” His wolf growled, and Dillon made a slow circle, his eyes scanning their surroundings. There was only one other vehicle, a passenger van, parked in front of the gas station. It had been there when Dillon pulled up, but he hadn’t seen anyone get in or out. Now there were three males leaned up against it talking amongst themselves. They kept looking back at the door as if waiting for someone.
“I can’t believe they expect me to eat gas station food. Okay, so the nachos aren’t that bad, but that’s not the point. Do they seriously expect me to eat this disgusting, cholesterol-packed, gas station death food all the way back to Colorado? Not happening.”
A voice invaded Dillon’s mind. It was like a warm caress, and his beast roared with recognition. Mate, the wolf rumbled. Hearing that word sent a wave of initial shock through him. When it finally dissipated, Dillon was elated, relieved, and utterly destroyed simultaneously. He felt the connection between him and his mate. It was uniquely theirs, and though he’d heard the experience of finding a mate described many times, Dillon still found himself unprepared. He frantically erected walls around his thoughts and feelings. Pain radiated through his skull. He clamped his teeth together, and his legs weakened beneath him. He could feel his pulse hammering in his chest as he gasped for air, and sweat beaded on his forehead. The woman—his mate—prodded against his mental shield, trying to gain access to what he held inside. But Dillon wasn’t about to let her in, not like this.
If she saw the memories and thoughts that he’d stored over the past two years, she would be devastated. He was hers. And he’d shared himself with another. Dillon would be lucky if she didn’t kill him, or worse, reject him as her true mate. Even as he considered how painful that would be, Lilly filled his mind. He knew he was going to do exactly what he warned her would happen. Dillon was going to leave her, and all they’d built together, and it would crush her. It would crush a part of him, as well. Regardless, he had to at least tell her goodbye. He couldn’t just disappear. He’d go back to Coldspring. Then once his goodbye was taken care of, he’d hunt down his mate.
His mate mentioned that she was traveling to Colorado. She must be a member of the Colorado Pack. He would be able to track her once he put things in order in Coldspring. His attention was drawn to the chime of the door, and Dillon looked up just as she stepped outside. Their gazes met, and she studied him with narrowed eyes, confusion shading her caramel-colored irises. Was she confused about the fact that she had just found her true mate out in the middle of flatland Texas? Or confused because her mate wouldn’t allow her access to his mind, a right that was hers alone?
She moved toward him, and he couldn’t help but take her all in. The gray sweater, black leggings, and ankle boots that still made her feet look small showed off her petite body. He didn’t let his eyes linger on her form, though he and his wolf were both highly intrigued by the brief glimpse of curves. He forced his gaze back up where long, light brown and golden strands of tousled hair cascaded down her shoulders. Dillon ached to touch it, to feel how soft the silk-like locks were. Her face was heart-shaped, with lips so full and red that they reminded him of a ripe apple. His mate’s skin was porcelain-perfect with the exception of a beauty mark above her right lip. Her delicate neck swept into a petite frame that he once again had to stop himself from examining further.
“Tanya, what gives?” One of the males pushed away from the van where he’d been leaning and reached out, placing his hand on her shoulder.
Dillon growled before he could censor his reaction. It was loud enough that the other males heard, and they turned glowing eyes on him. His wolf zeroed in on the hand that still rested on his mate’s shoulder. He wanted to rip it off. The visceral reaction caught him off guard. Dillon took a step back, forcing himself not to attack someone that was obviously her friend, or maybe even a relative. It better be a relative. Dillon tried to wrestle his beast under control.
“Who are you?” the largest of the males asked. His blond hair was pulled up into what Dillon had heard called a man-bun, but the local farmers around Coldspring called them twat knots. He had a close-trimmed beard, and his golden, hawklike eyes were zeroed in on Dillon. “I don’t know of any packs in this area.”
“And yet here stand four wolves,” Dillon pointed out. If there are no packs in the area, then what in the world were these four doing?
“Five,” the shortest of the males said.
“I belong here,” Dillon’s wolf growled. Although he was a lone wolf, he had claimed Coldspring and its surrounding areas—where he had developed relationships with people he cared for—as his territory. These four, including his mate, were trespassing. “You do not.”
“So you admit you’re not part of a pack?” the man with the bun asked.
Tanya’s eyes remained on Dillon, though she had stopped trying to break through his mental barriers. Her body appeared tense, and he noticed her knuckles turning white from gripping the drink and food in her hands so tightly.
“Take your eyes off her and answer the question.”
“Austin,” Tanya snapped at the one who hadn’t spoken before. His white-blond hair was striking against his tan skin, creating an incongruent appearance. His eyes were a vivid green, and his build was similar to Dillon’s, as was his height.
“What?” Austin asked. “He’s staring at you like you belong to him.”
Dillon’s gaze returned to Tanya, and his brow rose. His wolf was challenging her to see how she would respond to Austin’s comment. Dillon disapproved, considering he didn’t want to deal with this unexpected development. Moreover, having not encountered another Canis lupus in over a decade, he never thought he would meet his true mate, at least not in Lilly’s lifetime. “We wouldn’t have survived. You know this is what’s supposed to happen. This is our path. You chose to veer from the path,” his wolf told him. The words were harsh, but his beast tempered them with as much understanding as possible.
Tanya lifted her chin, clearly rising to his challenge.
The man with the bun, now identified as Trevor, stepped forward, glancing from Dillon to Tanya. Dillon could practically see the gears turning in Trevor’s head as he processed Austin’s words. Then realization struck him. He placed his hand on Austin’s chest and pushed the other male back.
“What are you doing, Trevor?” Austin questioned.
“This isn’t our business,” Trevor growled, sounding less than pleased. “At least not unless we need to make it our business.” His eyes met Dillon’s and narrowed.