Changed

By Aline Hunter

Beta werewolf Declan Schroder knows Rachel Gentry is his mate. The hard-as-nails female is more than he could ask for—intense, clever and sexy as sin. There’s only one problem. Rachel is human and fears his kind. She’s receptive to his advances—their sexual chemistry is impossible to deny—until an attack by a rogue werewolf threatens to destroy their newfound bond.

As Declan’s mating heat rises, he knows he’ll do whatever it takes to claim Rachel as his own. To keep her he’ll have to love her from dusk to dawn, introducing her to pleasures she’s never known. Loving a big, bad wolf is wicked and dangerous, but not in the way she’s bound to regret.

The Wolf's Den Book Two. This book contains explicit sexual content, graphic language, and situations that some readers may find objectionable.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Aline Hunter
• Release date: Mar 9, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005227937

Aline Hunter

Aline Hunter is a multi-published author who has written stories featured in horror magazines, zombie romance anthologies, and flash fiction contests. Her work has a dark undertone, which she credits to her love of old eighties horror films, tastes in music, and choices in reading, and have been described as “full of sensual promise,” “gritty and sexy” and “a breath of fresh air.”Currently she is penning projects within the urban fantasy, erotic and contemporary, and paranormal romance genres.

Book preview

Chapter One

Just Rachel? Where are you? Come out, come out, wherever you are.

Rachel Gentry jumped in alarm and ripped her gaze from the oil filter she’d been replacing. Her heart thudded in a frantic rhythm. She hated it when people bypassed her office and made their way to the back of the garage. The intrusion scared the hell out of her.

She swallowed down her momentary shock and counted to ten.

This was an asshole she knew, his voice easily recognizable.

Plus, he was the only person to call her Just Rachel.

She should have told him her last name the first time they’d met. Instead, she’d told him her name was Just Rachel. He’d never forgotten and made sure to address her as such each time they saw each other.

Mr. Tall, Dark, and Arrogant.

Declan Schroder.

Damn him.

He did what he wanted, when he wanted. She could argue with him until she was blue in the face, but it wouldn’t matter. Once he’d made up his mind, his decision was set in stone. She was living proof. He’d been coming to her shop the last two weeks. Initially, he’d introduced himself—something he hadn’t bothered doing the first time they’d met. He’d been cordial until she’d asked him why he kept visiting.

The atmosphere had changed, the air becoming almost electric. He didn’t answer right away. Rather, he’d frowned and combed his fingers through his hair. To his credit, he recovered with ease. As soon as he started talking, he wouldn’t shut up.

Her best friend, Chloe, had recently joined his crew.

Chloe was now mated to Declan’s Alpha.

Declan wanted Rachel to feel comfortable around the pack.

He insisted they go out to dinner.

He thought it would be nice to get to know her.

He wanted to make her feel comfortable around his kind.

She’d almost bought it. Almost.

As he’d talked, his gaze had drifted over her, from head to toe. She might as well have been naked. She knew precisely what he wanted when she glanced at his crotch. The douche bag was erect and ready to go. Clearly, he wanted to take her out, fuck her silly, and put another notch in his bedpost.

So much for playing nice.

She’d politely declined, explaining that while she appreciated the offer, it wasn’t a good idea. Then he’d done something she hadn’t expected. He’d grinned and proceeded to tease her, calling her a fraidy cat. She hadn’t understood his behavior. He was sexy as sin and could have any woman he wanted. She’d made it clear she wasn’t a conquest. But he hadn’t relented, visiting her each day.

Did the thrill of the hunt captivate him?

Or did he find pleasure in stalking her?

Maybe he’s more man than animal.

He is a werewolf.

Images from the night before flickered through her head, memories of her dreams rushing back full force. He’d captured her before she could bolt, holding her tight as he’d eased her to the ground. She braced herself for what would come next, her entire body tense. She could see the wolf inside him, could almost feel it beneath Declan’s skin. His face had come close to hers, their noses nearly touching. She’d closed her eyes, trembling as she waited to see what he had in store.

Then her phone had started blaring, yanking her out of the dream.

Pissed and a little horny, she’d answered the call.

She shouldn’t have been surprised that it had been her mother—drunk and in a sour mood—on the other end of the line. Without so much as a hello, the woman had started bitching about Chloe, telling Rachel horror stories about werewolves.

Rachel hadn’t been surprised.

Her mother had told stories about murdered children for years.

The woman enjoyed going into detail—painting portraits of deceased people with missing heads and limbs. She claimed victims were hunted down and partially eaten. The macabre tales had terrified Rachel as a child; they terrified her as an adult. Nevertheless, she’d listened quietly, letting her mother spew at the mouth. What she’d wanted to do was go back to sleep, wishing she could escape the hell that was her life.

Just Rachel, Declan drawled, interrupting her thoughts. Here I come.

You’re not sleeping, idiot! Her gaze darted to the side. Pay attention.

Thinking fast, she tried to decide what to do.

It didn’t matter where she hid. Declan would find her.

His nature paved the way.

He could hear each beat of her heart, able to identify her emotions by smell. He’d probably locked on to her scent. In a couple of seconds, he’d be beside her.

Something shuffled a few feet away.

Shit.

Declan moved silently, but she could feel him inching closer.

She wasn’t sure if she could turn him away this time.

He’d gotten past her guard, getting beneath her skin.

Each of their encounters had become more intense, the battle of wills turning to his advantage. Just yesterday—after she’d politely told him to play hide and go fuck himself—he’d backed her to a wall and caged her in his arms. Heat had radiated from his body, his brown irises turning vibrant gold.

There’d been nowhere to run or hide.

He’d lowered his head, his breath whispering across her lips.

She’d thought about running, but he’d stopped her.

His hand had come down, his long fingers snaking around the fragile bones at her hip. He hadn’t been willing to let her go, that much had been evident. Declan not only looked like pure sin, he practically oozed sexuality. She could see the devil under the surface, ready to burn her with a touch. She’d known he would be so much better than her fantasies. He was capable of doing things she’d only dreamed about. Her pulse had amplified in her head, her body temperature rising. She’d been willing to tread into dangerous waters for the first time, curious to see what he’d do next.

She’d edged closer, anticipation replacing hesitation.

Then a customer had waltzed in to pick up his piece of shit Buick.

Declan had moved away, granting her freedom before the human asked any questions. She’d been too relieved to thank Declan, taking advantage of the man’s foresight. Her intrusive client had been so interested in his phone he hadn’t bothered looking up as he walked in. Very fortunate since the people in her area weren’t fond of the species and races they didn’t understand. Mr. Buick would have passed out or called the police if he’d noticed a werewolf inside the room.

Declan had warned her he’d be back, making sure he had her attention before he exited the building. She’d stood there like a moron, watching him go, frozen in place. Just like that he’d put another chink in her armor. No fuss, zero muss. He’d created interest she couldn’t deny. Soon she’d be eating out of his hand.

Why did he keep picking apart her defenses?

Because he knows he can, idiot.

Rachel didn’t like werewolves, with one exception.

Chloe Bryant—the only friend she’d ever had.

They’d been locked at the hip since they were children, long before Chloe had learned of her werewolf genetics. After Chloe told Rachel the truth, sharing she’d change into a werewolf soon enough, Rachel hadn’t been able to turn her back on the only person she truly loved.

Chloe had suffered enough.

Her friend had lost her mother and had never known her father—a man who had passed down the werewolf gene to his progeny. If it hadn’t been for Jackson Donovan—a local pack Alpha and Chloe’s mate—Chloe would have faced her first shift alone. From what Rachel had gathered, the first transformation for a half-breed wasn’t pleasant. Jackson’s Alpha nature had paved the way and made things much easier for Chloe. Rachel had been curious about everything that had happened—wondering how a person went from one form to another—but hadn’t asked Chloe what it had been like. She’d merely inquired about her friend’s well-being, got an answer, and changed the subject.

It wasn’t her place to judge.

Besides, Jackson doted on Chloe.

Rachel believed her friend was truly happy.

That was the most important thing.

Soft footsteps drew Rachel’s attention.

She spied a pair of worn boots heading in her direction. Her stomach knotted, dread lining her gut. Declan was as quiet as a cat. If she didn’t pay attention, he’d sneak right up on her.

Ignore him. Maybe he’ll go away.

Large booted feet stopped beside the car. Found you.

I wasn’t hiding, she snapped and focused on her work.

The oil filter had been turned too tight. She couldn’t get it free. Tilting to the side, she put all her strength into her torso and arms. Talk about the ultimate shame. Showing a lack of ability in the garage with Declan to observe. To her embarrassment, the filter refused to budge.

Not now! Come loose, you piece of crap!

He kneeled and leaned over, his head appearing beside the elevated tire. Need any help?

No. She exhaled, trying to control her temper, and gripped the filter.

She gave it another go, feeling her muscles straining.

Her shoulders protested, her wrists burning.

This was why she hated her garage. Limited funds meant limited supplies. She didn’t have racks to lift automobiles, meaning she had to get on the ground and do things the old-fashioned way. That meant anyone could venture into the shop and bother her at will.

Declan plopped down beside her. Let me do it.

Go away! She planted an elbow in his ribs, keeping her hands on the filter. His grunt was music to her ears. Can’t you see I’m busy?

Stubborn female, he retorted, reaching over her head.

They fought for control of the cylinder, fingers rubbing together.

Depending on what she’d been doing in the garage, her hands could look like they’d been soaked in battery acid. Today her cuticles were crusted with oil and dirt, the tips black with grime. It would take a solid ten minutes of scrubbing to get them clean.

His nails, in comparison, were immaculate.

Perfectly neat and tidy.

Wasn’t the woman supposed to be the pretty one?

Just Rachel. He slid his other hand up, cuffing her wrist with his fingers. I’m trying to be polite, but you’re starting to piss me off. Let go and move your hands. I’m not asking again.

Don’t call me that.

He turned his head, looking at her. Why?

Keeping her eyes forward, staring at their interwoven hands, she tried to decide how to respond. Anyone with a reliable set of ears could hear the way he rolled the words off his tongue. He might as well have been calling her Honeypie, Sugar Cakes, or Baby Doll.

You say it like an endearment.

What’s wrong with that?

You get me about as hot as the Arctic. That’s what’s wrong with it. The enormous lie breezed from her mouth. The man was like a rash that constantly itched. I’m not your Boo-Boo, and you sure as shit ain’t my Teddy Bear.

Hmm, he hummed, drawing out the sound. We’ll see.

He gave her wrist a firm tug. Her fingers slid from the filter.

In a blink, he grasped the blasted thing.

It loosened with the first turn, coming free without a problem.

She had to look at him as he handed it over, a smile tugging at the corners of his full lips. His irises were gold, the pupils dilated. She could smell the faint and appealing aroma of the aftershave he’d splashed over his bristle-free face.

You’re welcome, he said softly, studying her.

She couldn’t think when he stared at her like that—her mind stripped of rational thought. He’d just said something but the words didn’t compute. Why was it so hard to breathe? When did the room get so warm? What did he want? Did it really matter? There was only Declan with his distinct features and piercing eyes. With a swift perusal, she decided she preferred him with a little stubble on his face.

I like it when you look at me that way, he said, breaking her out of her stupor. Still, she maintained eye contact, trapped in the intensity of his gaze. I like it when you’re not afraid.

There it was. A stern reminder.

She had to keep him at a distance.

They were nothing alike.

They weren’t even the same species.

He slept all day and stayed up all night. She went to bed early and got up at the break of dawn. His idea of a good time was running around on four legs in the woods with his pack. Her perfect evening consisted of a bubble bath and cup of hot chocolate.

Afraid? The utterance came out as a squeak, and she wanted to slap herself. She cleared her throat, determined to sound confident. "I’m not afraid of you. I just don’t like you."

You’re a horrible liar, he replied, his knowing smile intact.

No argument there.

She couldn’t lie to save her life.

But she’d never admit it. Not to him.

Whatever. Severing eye contact, she glared at the filter and informed him, I worked it loose. That’s the only reason you got it off. Feel free to leave now.

Worming closer, his shoulder bumped hers. Where’s my thank you?

Her eyes shot up, growing wide to see his face was only a couple of inches away. The speed at which he moved did frighten her. She’d been told werewolves were fast, but did they move at the speed of light? Declan could be there one minute and gone the next. Rachel had never seen anything like it. Now he was right there, resting directly beside her. His body temperature ran hotter, a wave of warmth sailing toward her. Autumn was almost gone, winter taking its place.

She wondered if an oral acknowledgment would suffice. Thank you?

That’s not what I had in mind. Another shift of his shoulders brought him closer.

You shouldn’t do things for people because you expect something. The inner shrew was back, riding her hard. The nagging inner voice told her not to trust Declan, aware he wasn’t being totally honest with her. Mesmerized, she watched his irises change, the color darkening a shade along the edges. She snapped back to reality. I don’t recall asking for your help.

When it comes to you, there’s no need to ask. The statement sounded point of fact, unquestionable. If you need something, I do it. End of story.

Something dawned on her, the mere idea like a bitch-slap to her confidence. Did Chloe send you to watch me? Or did Jackson put you up to this? How had she been so blind? So freaking stupid! It all made sense. Chloe worried about Rachel being alone. Jackson could make Declan do whatever he wanted. Look, don’t bother. It’s a waste of time. Believe me when I say I can take care of myself.

I just bet you can. Declan cocked a dark brow in her direction and said, Jackson has nothing to do with this. I don’t waste time. I invest. His lips came together and he studied her. His nostrils flared. You’re afraid, but you’re also curious, he stated. Good thing, because I like you. I like you a lot, Just Rachel. I’ll be patient until you realize you like me too. Give it time. You’ll see.

I’ll see? He’s that confident?

What an asshole!

Indignation fled, chased away when his fingers feathered across her jaw. For a werewolf, the man had a soft touch. He never looked away, drinking her in, his thumb moving around to caress her cheek. His attention drifted to her mouth. He licked his lower lip, as though he was imagining how she’d taste. No man had ever stared at her so intently, seeing nothing else in the room.

Do you know how tempting you are? He inhaled softly, nostrils flaring. Her heart fluttered and raced, the fire in her belly raging all the hotter. His gaze swept from her lips to her eyes. You smell sweet. He inched closer. There was so much hunger etched in his features. His jaw had drawn tight, his brows pulling together. Come here.

His hand went to her nape, cupping the back of her head. He urged her toward him, using steady but tender pressure. His golden irises brightened, becoming a stunning shade of lemon yellow, emitting a strange glow.

He’s not human. He could hurt you.

She considered pulling away, uneasy at the sensations that lured her from reality. She’d never been so turned on. Her mind told her to run; her body told her to stay.

Declan. Was that her voice? It couldn’t be. When had it gotten so deep?

I’m right here. Sweet, beautiful girl.

The first brush of his lips was easy and light. Their mouths touched, his head going left then right. She closed her eyes, sighing as he nuzzled her nose. She softened beneath his touch, shoulders relaxing. He smelled amazing, like wood, forest, and a dash of hot summer rain.

That’s right. With a flick of his thumb, he lifted her chin and angled her face. Open that pretty little mouth for me.

Her lips parted as she sighed, giving him what he wanted. He went straight for his target, claiming her mouth. The kiss felt like a brand, searing her lips. The first contact felt right, an invisible spark drawing new life. She gasped when tingles started in her abdomen and spread up her torso. His tongue darted out, sliding past her lips with practiced ease. Unlike lovers from her past, he wasn’t the least bit timid. He took full control, dominating her mouth, the thrusts of his tongue wild and forceful. The fingers he’d placed at the back of her head tightened and tugged on her hair.

She reached blindly for him, going for the hand he’d wrapped around her neck. Clutching at