Wolf's Challenge

By Christina Lynn Lambert

When Sydney left Seattle two years ago, she was scared, traumatized, and done with men for good. Now she has a good job, a hobby that’s fast becoming a second career, and best of all, she’s adopted a little girl named Angel. Life is good and Sydney’s not about to let charming lawyer Derrick mess that up, no matter how sexy he is, or how sweet he seems.

Things aren’t always as they appear in the town of Great Oaks, Virginia. Derrick isn’t the ladies’ man Sydney thinks he is, but he does have a few secrets, the least shocking one that he can transform into a powerful wolf at will.

Can Derrick convince Sydney to give him a chance, something more than her elusive maybe? More importantly, should he? He’s still trying to forgive himself for being at the wheel during the accident that killed his son. Losing Sydney when she learns the truth might break him, but he’s pretty sure not having her in his life would be just as bad.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Decadent Publishing
• Release date: Nov 2, 2018
• ISBN: 9781683612971

Book preview

Prologue

Three years ago: Black Snake Road, Virginia

The narrow, winding road offered no forgiveness. The sound of screeching tires drowned out the song on the radio. As the car spun, Derrick’s muscles locked up. He braced himself for the impact he knew was coming. Too many trees around for it not to happen. The world didn’t slow down and freeze-frame like in the movies. He had no time to make sense of things or to come up with a plan.

After a long, helpless slide of the tires, the side of the car slammed against a tree. The air bag burst out and plastered him to the driver’s seat. The air bag was too late. Derrick’s head had already hit the steering wheel. Underneath all the pain lay an eerie stillness. The inside of the car was too quiet. He took a breath and turned around as he wiped the blood out of his eyes. He could see everything clearly now, but he didn’t want to.

***

Two months later: Shifter Justice Department—Council hearing

No punishment. No admonition. No blame. Derrick received only sympathy and understanding as he stood in a courtroom of five council members, including the lead councilwoman of the Shifter Justice Department.

None of us are without mistakes, one councilmember told him.

Derrick had turned himself in, expecting some sort of blame or punishment for his mistake. In addition to providing resources to keep shifters out of the regular human justice system, the Shifter Justice Department enacted punishments for the shifters found guilty of breaking the law. The council decided the punishments for major crimes. The council members could also sanction killings of those who threatened shifters. If a shifter committed an offense great enough, the council could vote to end the shifter’s life.

After Derrick’s initial assessment to determine his level of guilt, the council members didn’t treat him as if they thought him a criminal. More than one offered him comfort and information about grief counseling.

The council’s kindness didn’t give him what he needed, though. Derrick wasn’t exactly sure what the hell he did need. Punishment would have given him more peace than kindness. He sat because his knees were about to give out.

It is not the Justice Department’s place to punish mistakes. Our purpose is to punish those who intend to harm others, whether they have done so by force or by coercion, the head councilwoman told him in a no-nonsense voice. We only punish cowards and criminals. Our findings show that, although most of your memories related to the time before the accident are not retrievable, you are neither a coward nor a criminal. She stared pointedly at him, her gray eyes showing both compassion and the deep knowledge she had collected over her more than eighty years of life.

Derrick nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

There will be no punishment for you, Mr. Porter. In fact, the council members find you to be an honorable man. As such, you will be called on at some point to serve our people. Be ready.

Yes, ma’am. He should be grateful to be leaving the building alive, but what was there to live for?

In attempts to discover the truth in his missing memories, he had been questioned by highly trained coyote and fox-shifter Justice Interrogators, drugged into a slobbering state of insanity, purposely agitated, and physically harmed—though a few shifts to wolf form had fixed his injuries—all over a period of two days. He had endured an incredible amount of torture and misery, only to be told the death penalty would not be enacted nor would any other penalty be given. He would have welcomed a sentence of guilt. Derrick had been prepared to deal with doing time in a shifter jail cell. He could have dealt with endless torture, which was designed to be part of a jail sentence for any shifter committing a serious enough offense. The death penalty would have been fine too. A council-sanctioned death could be quick or slow, depending on the crime. A slow, punishing death was what he preferred at this point, but being told to basically go home and get on with his life? He didn’t know how he was going to manage that.

Chapter One

Sunrises and surprises

Present Day

The fog and cold engulfed Sydney as she walked toward a group of mostly strangers. She was not a morning person. Not even on the best of days. She nodded to Jack. Even though she was barely awake, her promise to Jack was the reason she had come to the park in the bitter weather. Hanging out with a bunch of people she didn’t know was not where she wanted to be this particular morning. Especially since they were all supposed to go running.

Sydney’s body was still sluggish, but her mind was beginning to refocus and make coherent thoughts again thanks to the chill in the air and a caramel latte from Rose’s Bakery. On the drive over, she had decided she was glad for the break from the project she’d been stuck on. Hopefully, the fog wrapping around her like a cloak would hide her bloodshot eyes and blur the dark circles and frustration lines marring her weary face thanks ever so much to a sleepless and unproductive night. For a moment, she considered the possibility of lying out on one of the picnic benches for a quick nap. Nobody would think that’s weird, right?

People stood around chatting, and Sydney was not in the mood for it. The rough night had rubbed her raw. The pounding in her head was a drum beat, but if she kept her cool and let the pain meds and coffee do their job, soon, the heavy beat would just be a pulsing in the background. She hadn’t wanted to start the day as grouchy, bitchy Sydney, but that was where the day was going if she didn’t get a handle on things. And of course, Grant, her introverted partner in crime, was nowhere to be seen.

Sydney’s feet felt heavy, and she wanted to turn around and go the hell home, where she could be grouchy in peace. What she did instead was step in with the group of runners to help form a circle like her friend Jack had asked. She had promised him to give running a try with the new group he’d created. Besides, running with the group might shake up her currently boring exercise routine. With her generous hips and ass, exercising to stay in shape was a necessity.

I’m already here. May as well deal with the process.

Really, it didn’t matter what she did at this point, whether it was to sleep or start training for her first 10K run with this new running group. She needed to do something other than look at her canvas and paints for a while. The lines of her sketches were too tight and too constrained. The angles were wrong. The result was a bland-as-plain-bagels farce of a creation. The solution for bringing the idea stuck in her head to life on paper lay just out of reach.

Time to get your mind off it. Sydney proceeded to drag her thoughts away from her unfinished artwork and into the present, where she was about to try her hand at some serious running. Mostly, this was a favor to Jack, but she was also curious about what distance running was like. The farthest she’d ever run was the one mile she and her classmates were required to finish for a fitness test in high school gym class.

She did not consider herself particularly graceful or athletically talented, so she hadn’t done ballet or gymnastics growing up. She could only watch in amazement at people who could turn flips or leap and twirl. Although Sydney was strong, she lacked timing and patience. Okay, yeah, and coordination.

She hadn’t liked waiting for a basketball to be passed to her or trying to figure out who was passing to whom and where she needed to be in ten seconds. Swimming was always fun. Aerobics classes she tolerated for the sake of keeping her body nice and healthy, but she tried to stay in the back of the class since she couldn’t stay on cue with the instructor.

Running, though- she had never really thought about as an actual sport until Jack had talked her into training with him. Jack Johannsen was a real-estate broker, but everybody needed a hobby. His was running, and he had recently decided to be a training coach in his spare time. Why, she didn’t know, but to each his own.

Sydney studied the circle of people. Jack stood on one side of her. On the other side was a tall, dark-haired man wearing sunglasses in the dreary fog, like a rock star on a morning talk show. He was already chatting up two ladies, an attractive blonde and a mysterious-looking brunette.

Jeez, I guess he’s getting his Saturday night lined up. She glanced at the stranger’s coal-black hair. I bet he colors it. I bet he goes to the stylist every month and sits while she flirts with him and mixes three different shades of black to get it just right. Sydney smiled politely at him and turned away to fix her shoelace. Player.

Rule number one: never date a player. Seriously, men like that should have been required to come with a warning siren. Or at least a surgeon general’s notice stamped on the back of their neck. The side effects of messing with a player could range from irritating to devastating, and she had time for none of it.

She tended to forget she had morphed from a chunky, poorly dressed teenager who had been miserable in her own skin, into a long-legged, curvaceous, and captivating woman.

It was her friend, Simone, who had used the term captivating, though Sydney was still unsure that would be the correct way to describe her. Regardless, she wasn’t ugly, and she could turn a few heads, so she knew she didn’t belong in the undatable category at the very least. Still, she was too shy to really use her appearance to her advantage when it came to men. Being shy had probably been her downfall back in Seattle with Jerk-off Jeff.

He could insert himself into any group and become part of the conversation, while Sydney struggled to make small talk with strangers. Jeff had started to get really busy in the evenings, saying he had to take his work home with him. She had tried to see the reason in that, but since he didn’t seem to miss her, she had gotten suspicious and played detective. Jeff’s suddenly busy evenings full of work ended up being a few lady friends, practically one for every night of the week.

The next man Sydney dated left a mark of fear that took up residence next to her cynicism. Sean was a narcotics detective for a division of the Seattle PD. He’d seemed pretty laid-back and level headed. And he was…in public.

In private, Sean’s easy-going demeanor faded into an edgy silence. Hearing I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push you away and This case just has me frustrated didn’t move her to forgiveness after the first couple of times he had acted like a dick. Without crying, screaming, or begging him to change, Sydney told him she was done. And that should have been the end of it.

Sean had never touched her in anger until that awful day two years ago when he’d stood there on his front porch, drunk and angry. He’d pushed her shoulder. Get outta here. You’re not worth it. His Boston accent Sydney had always found so hot came out slurred and harsh. Shirtless, breathing hard, sweating in the middle of the day, sporting a grossly harsh love bite at his shoulder—what more proof could she possibly have needed she was ending things none too soon?

Frozen in disbelief, Sydney had been trying to convince her limbs to move, and fast, when Sean grabbed her shoulders and spun her around, away from the door and away from him.

Go! You have to go! He pushed her again.

The memory of the sound of her head striking the ground after she fell from his front porch still made Sydney grit her teeth. A shiver ran up her arms.

You cold? a voice interrupted her trip down bad-memory lane. Player boy must have seen her shiver. I have an extra sweatshirt in my car. I can go grab it if you need it.

She shook her head. I’m okay.

She sipped her water and readjusted the bobby pin keeping an unruly lock of hair from escaping one of her braids, briefly touching the scar where the stitches had been. Never again. Rule number two was no alcoholics or addicts. Originally, rule number three was no putting up with assholes, but she had decided that one didn’t need to be spoken aloud as a cautionary reminder.

It should just be a way of life. No assholes ever.

Sydney was determined to do what she could to stay away from assholes and also to protect herself from the unforeseen. What happened with Sean just didn’t add up, not then and not now. Apparently, nothing with men needed to make sense. In bed, he had always let go, always given, and always been ready to receive, and he’d had a way of passionately and desperately working her body as if he needed something from her for which he couldn’t ask. It had driven Sydney crazy—the good kind of crazy—once upon a time. Now, she could only view those memories under a haze of fear and disgust.

Thanks to Sean, Sydney never forgot for a minute that people weren’t always what they seemed. Except player boy over there, wearing his sunglasses on a cloudy day, chatting with the ladies. She rolled her eyes, wondering just what kind of lies the sexy, dark-haired womanizer used to deceive innocent women. Should she warn his next two possible victims? Did his clean-cut image hide a shark, hunting for willing prey, or did he prefer to devour the innocent?

Jack started calling out warm-up instructions, snapping Sydney out of her sleepy thoughts and back to the present. Then, just to make the whole experience more annoying, he wanted everyone in the circle to take turns introducing him or herself. Becca and Sadie, the blonde and brunette the player had been talking with, were both married, stay-at-home moms who designed children’s clothes together in their spare time. Grant slipped into the circle and gave a brief introduction.

Probably came late on purpose so he could skip the social bullshit. Traitor.

Sydney and Grant worked together at the Brass Cat Advertising Agency. The thoughtful, quiet man had become her friend over the last year. He had agreed to come to the group practice to keep her company. Or share her misery. Their group wasn’t huge, but it had a nice variety of people. A lady who worked in Jack’s office as a loan processor was there and seemed as apprehensive as Sydney about the whole running and socializing with strangers thing. Next to the loan processor was the head chef from the Greenhouse Effect, one of Jack’s favorite restaurants in town. An older guy in a Virginia Commonwealth University sweatshirt was a retired college professor, and the couple beside him told everybody they owned the new club on Break Street, Midnight Blue.

‘Midnight Blue’ like the Lou Gramm song? asked the professor.

Exactly.

The professor smiled the kind of smile that involved a memory. Sydney had the song on one of her many playlists. She’d heard it only hours ago during her all-nighter.

Then, Derrick Porter—player boy—told everyone in a strong, slightly Southern voice he was a business lawyer, and he hadn’t been running in a long time.

Lawyers, she thought in disgust. They’re the worst kind of players.

She fought to keep from staring at the man. The effort was wasted though, since his image was already stuck in her mind. Though tall and broad shouldered, he wasn’t enormous or bulky. The muscle definition under his running clothes was subtle, but she noticed. After spending the last six months working on a series of paintings about motion and the human form, she had come to immensely respect what the human body could do. Some people had grace, and some had strength. She was willing to bet Derrick had both.

The man was beautiful. His mouth? Damn! His lips were full but not too full—just perfect for sucking on. She hadn’t been kissed for such a long time. She gritted her teeth and forced her thoughts away from his juicy lips. A couple days of beard scruff would have looked sloppy on a lot of men, on him, it was sexy and rough without being overgrown. She closed her eyes, took in a breath, and tried to focus again on only the present moment. No luck.

Yeah, he’s hot. So what? You see hot men all the time with no problem turning your head away if they look like trouble. Being burned-out and tired must be screwing with her mind. She could feel Derrick next to her even as she refused to glance his way. Sydney didn’t harbor a secret disdain for attractive men, but a man so handsome she wanted to reach out and touch him or paint his picture for the walls of a museum? No good could come of wanting a man like that. Men who were gorgeous and knew it were trouble. She had no doubt the sexy, dark-haired lawyer on her left was trouble.

Derrick kept his sunglasses on despite the foggy weather. A bittersweet memory had caught him off guard this morning, and, by the time he’d left the house, his eyes were bloodshot. This particular day of the year was hard for him, and he was certain there would always be something cold and empty about the date no matter what the weather was. Grudgingly, he admitted to himself the group run would be a good distraction.

When he had arrived earlier, he’d caught up with his friend Jack.

I’ve got a little surprise for you, D.

What’s that? Despite a somber mood, Derrick had been mildly curious.

Just wait, Jack had told him with a grin.

So, he was waiting. The woman next to him shivered in the morning chill, and he remembered when a good run used to be worth going out in the chill and worth getting caught in the rain. In human form, he hadn’t felt like running for so long he wondered if it would be worth the time at all. So many things weren’t worth the time anymore.

As Jack led them through some warm-up exercises, Derrick chatted with an older man and a couple of ladies who were discussing what desserts they were going to reward themselves with after their first run. He didn’t like sweets much, so he decided his treat would be a big loaded plate of nachos topped with sour cream and jalapeños. He hadn’t thought about loaded nachos in a long time.

How ’bout you? he turned to ask the girl—well, woman really. Yeah, she was all woman—on the other side of him.

Mmm, said the wolf.

I know, but shut it, said Derrick. This conversation happened without anybody ever seeing or hearing a thing. The wolf shared space in Derrick’s brain. The wolf was not Derrick, but at the same time….

What? she asked, looking like she had been somewhere else entirely.

He repeated the question the others had asked about desserts.

Oh, she murmured, her sleepy eyes closed in concentration. I think brownies and then about ten hours of sleep. Oh, and the brownies have to be from Rose’s Bakery. Her dreamy smile cut through the fog.

Girl, tell me you got some sleep last night! Jack fussed at her.

She laughed. No, and I’m so frustrated. I didn’t come close to finishing it. For the last few hours of the night, all I could do was just sit there, staring at my mistakes.

The smooth, mellow sound of her voice played into Derrick’s ears like a steady rain. Her skin was fair with a light dusting of freckles. Her eyes were an earthy shade of hazel, but her hair couldn’t make up its mind what color it wanted to be. Hints of gold, strawberry blonde, and chunks of red sneaked in through the dark and light brown. Then, when she turned, the dark brown looked red, too. Her bangs weren’t quite long enough to stay tucked behind her ears, though she’d tried.

When she caught him glancing her way, yeah okay he was staring, her cheeks turned pink. She scowled and crossed her arms. She didn’t seem to like people looking at her, but he couldn’t help it. Her braids hung past her shoulders, which drew his attention to her curvy waist. This lovely woman sure wasn’t one of those starving anorexic chicks he saw everywhere. He liked her curves. He liked everything from her faded, form-fitting black sweatshirt down to her baggy purple track pants he bet hid some killer legs.

Jack caught Derrick’s attention and told him, In addition to her day job, Sydney here is an artist. She’s working on a series of paintings for Jazmin’s Gallery on Break Street.

She shook her head. If I ever finish.

I bet you just need some inspiration and a little time not to think about it, said Grant, the tank of a man on the other side of Jack.

Yeah. Which is exactly why I’m here and not at home in my nice warm bed.

Yeah, well, maybe later, Red-Hot. Grant blew a kiss at Sydney.

Oh shut up, Grant! She rolled her eyes as she and Grant laughed. Her laugh was gentle and full of light. Derrick hoped Grant wasn’t already enjoying her beautiful body, since the two worked at the same ad agency. She looked like just the right combination of sweet and hot. Cookies and cake he didn’t really care for. A sweet woman, though? Hell, yes.

Derrick jumped a little when Jack cleared his throat, belatedly realizing the guy had caught him giving Sydney a probably not-too-subtle once over.

Cut that shit out before she catches you again, was the look he got from Jack. Derrick hoped she would be ahead of him on the