Free White Wolf 2: The Call of a Soul by Jianne Carlo Page B

Melanie picked at the fuzz on her well-worn brown coat.
    Mike geared down and slowed right in front of the wooden-roofed bus stall.
    “No need to get out.” She unsnapped her seat belt.
    He braked, switched off the engine, and hauled her into his lap. “Like I said before. I’m here for the duration, Melanie. And I’m hurting because you won’t even look me in the eye. We made love. I took your virginity. Talk to me.”
    She didn’t resist his embrace but fixed her glance somewhere in the vicinity of his upper chest. Finally when he was about to force the issue, she met his stare. “I don’t regret a minute of it. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to let it happen again. There’s too much to lose. And no one can ever know this happened. My mother’s been clean and sober for eighteen months. If she even gets wind of this, it could send her back to the booze again.”
    “Is that why you won’t let me take you home?”
    She averted her gaze and nodded.
    “And that’s why you need to be there when she gets off work? To make sure she doesn’t relapse?”
    Once again, she gave him a tight-lipped nod.
    He played with her ponytail, stalling, trying to come up with a win-win. “I’m an alpha, Melanie. Keeping you safe is my priority. I’ll let you out here and follow on foot to make sure you get home safe.”
    “It’s only one stop to the reservation, and I’ve been walking home from the bus stop forever—”
    “There was a murder last night. Not too far from this exact spot.”
    She rolled her eyes. “You can’t park your truck at the bus stop. The whole point of me taking the bus is so no one notices us together.”
    “How long before the bus comes?”
    “Five minutes.” She heaved a huge sigh. “This is so unnecessary. And Mike, I meant what I said. This”—she waved her hands—“is not going to happen again.”
    “Okay. This is how we’ll work it. I’ll drop you here at the bus stop, park the truck where it won’t be seen, and then backtrack and follow you home. You won’t even know I’m there.” He kissed her hard and set her back into the passenger seat.
    Before Mike could hop out on the driver’s side, she shoved the door open and jumped to the ground. “Thanks for the ride. Have a good day.”
    Have a good day? Not fucking likely now. Mike didn’t bother replying because the door slammed shut in his face. He glared at her, but she pretended an interest in the route map nailed to the back wall of the bus stall.
    Mike pulled a U-turn, drove a quarter mile in the opposite direction to the dirt crossroads he’d seen earlier, and glided a hundred yards before parking under a thicket of dense birch trees sporting a display of leaves shaded in the hues of a riotous golden sunset. The pickup’s muddied chrome bumper was clearly visible, but he didn’t have time to worry about discovery. Mike dashed across Route 7’s two lanes and headed into a packed forest of oaks and tall pines. It didn’t take him long to reach the bus stop, and he arrived just as the mud-caked vehicle pulled onto the highway. He followed a parallel path through the trees.
    Melanie sat in the very first seat, her ponytail brushing the dust-streaked passenger-side window. When the seen-better-days bus squealed to a halt a quarter mile from the border to the reservation, Mike hid behind a wide weathered trunk, fists balled as she waved to the bus driver and hopped off the last step.
    Head down, hands jammed into her coat pockets, she picked her way through a tree-lined dirt path and then hurried across a meadow. Staying well behind, he tailed her all the way home and, though he knew what to expect, choked back a ferocious hiss when the lone dwelling came into view.
    The roof repairs had been completed.
    How much other work had Eddie been able to finish?
    Mike had given Eddie an extensive list of to do’s five months earlier. The narrow driveway leading to the three-bedroom cottage had been graveled. Colorful shrubs