Gambling on Her Bear Read online

  “Do you ever bother looking in a mirror?” Sabrina smirked, eyeing Rae’s tangled hair.

  Not nearly as often as you. She nearly shot the words out but caught herself on the first syllable. So what if her long brown hair was usually thrown into a loose ponytail? So what if her figure said athlete and not cover girl? That’s who she was, and she liked it that way. She’d leave the plunging necklines to curvy girls like Sabrina, because attracting unwanted attention could be a dangerous thing.

  She set off, finger-combing her hair on the way to the alpha’s office and flicking away a burr she’d picked up some time that morning. So she’d been out wandering again. Was that so wrong for one of their kind?

  Except she wasn’t exactly their kind. Oh, she was a wolf shifter all right, but one born to another pack. And even back home in Colorado, she’d always been a little different. The one who didn’t quite fit in.

  Her inner wolf let out a snort. A lot different. If only they knew.

  Rae eyed the alpha’s office door warily before giving it a nervous knock. There was a grunt, and she entered, dropping her eyes in the required sign of subordination to the grizzled old alpha and his haughty mate. Even after all these years at Westend pack, the gesture didn’t come easily.

  “Your lucky day has come,” Roric announced, curt and cold. “Pack your things.”

  For this alpha, a smile and a sneer were one and the same. What did he mean by lucky day?

  She glanced uncertainly at his mate, who frowned in acid disapproval of Rae’s dusty jeans, her plain blue T-shirt, her… Well, her everything.

  “Get moving.” Roric jutted his square chin toward the door. “Another pack is willing to try you out for a season.”

  Rae’s heart thumped. She’d been hoping something would come along in another pack—a job, an internship, anything. She’d had enough of Nevada. Not so much the heat or the dusty flats but the stifling hierarchy of Roric’s Westend pack. That and the fact that these shifters had sold their souls. Gambling was big business in Nevada, but as far as Rae was concerned, it was a business wolf packs had no place in. What happened to their connection to the earth, to the old ways?

  Unfortunately, Roric’s pack had only let go of some of the old ways. They’d clung to the rest: the crushing, absolutist authority, the strict delineation of male and female roles. The only consolation was that Roric wasn’t as bad as some others—like the alpha Rae had fled in Colorado ten years before. Here, her body was safe. And by now, she’d learned the ropes. If she toed the line carefully, she had a modicum of freedom. After all, no one ever paid attention to what the odd wolf out did on the night of a new moon.

  But who knew what it would be like in a different pack?

  “Where?” she blurted.

  Roric waved a lazy hand as if it were all the same to him. But that gesture, like so many others, was probably rehearsed. This alpha didn’t do anything without analyzing it for the benefits—to him and his pack. Individual wishes didn’t register on his list.

  “Arizona. Twin Moon Ranch.”

  She caught a breath. When she’d put in a request for a transfer, she’d been thinking East Coast, where the packs were said to be more modern-minded. But Arizona? Wolf packs in the Four Corners area were known to be old school. And Arizona—that was old-old school. Who knew what kind of alpha she’d have there?

  She glanced around, second-guessing herself. Westend had never felt like home, but did she really want to start all over again?

  The hard faces greeting her provided all the answer she needed: the decision was made.

  “Who knows,” the alpha female added with a conspiratorial glance at her partner. “You might finally find a suitable mate there.”

  Rae hid the stutter in her breath. Was that a hint? A threat? The room leaned in over her, as enclosed spaces always did. She let her chin dip into the briefest nod, asking—begging—to be dismissed while her mind spun. Arizona?

  Roric flicked a finger toward the door. She was released.

  “Good luck,” Sabrina called, her tone clashing with the words.

  Right, luck. Rae had been in Nevada long enough to know that it took a hell of a lot of waiting to win at any gamble. Better to make her own luck, or at least stack the odds in her favor.

  She hurried to her room, forcing calm over her mind as she decided which of her few belongings mattered enough to take. Topping the list was her recurve bow and a freshly fletched set of arrows, with a few silver-tipped ones, just in case. Because there were wolves, and there were wolves. Who knew what Arizona might bring?

  * * *

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