Dangerous Wolves

Chapter 1

A/n Dedicated to Simmcha1 cuz she pointed out a mistake i missed XD tanks boobear!

_____

I shouldn't be here.

I really, really shouldn't be here.

And if I knew it, shouldn't I be gone?

I was reckless, and stupid, and looking for someone to kill me. Why else would I be here, in this little hick town of Guthrie, Oklahoma? Why? Because I wanted to feel like I could plant roots. Maybe even make some friends...without bloodthirsty wolves on my trail. I hadn't smelt any alphas here, which could mean one of three things; the scent of cow dung and horse crap had covered the smell, only rogues lived here, or there weren't any Weres at all. Though I hoped for the last option, I knew without a doubt that it wasn't possible--this was the perfect place for a pack. But I couldn't bring myself to leave. I liked the quaintness of the hole-in-the-wall place in town, Barb's Cowboy Café, I liked being able to genuinely smile at someone without them glaring back. I even liked the red dirt.

My house was on the outskirts of town, 2 ½ acres of my land. Now, don't get me wrong; I still run on the biggest stretch of land I can find; but now, I have something to call mine. My only problem was with the huge red rocks across the street, blocking my view of the strip of trees between another house and mine. I lived in a neighborhood. A neighborhood! Honestly! It felt so weird not to be lying on a hotel bed, scared out of my mind.

I got up from my perch on the top of my roof, jumping down and landing lightly on my feet next to Sheeba, my wolf. Yes, my wolf. She was my Beta, in a way. A small silver creature that could never, ever be mistaken for a dog.

I pointed my finger at her, growling,

"Stay."

Last time I'd gone out she'd trailed my car all the way into Oklahoma City, causing people to stare and point. I'd driven all the way back just to stay at home with her, because they probably wouldn't let me off of the interstate if they saw me coming.

She cocked her head and pouted a little, telling me she thought I was an idiot for treating her like a dog. I snorted and left.

I took my poor Camaro (a 2010 silver-with-black-stripes-along-the-hood-and-leather-interior car. I loved it like it was my own child.), out of the driveway, wincing at each bump, and zipped out, shifting the stick. I loved the snarls it made, rumbling below me like a beautiful lover. Guthrie was old, with antique brick buildings, antique people, and antique things. It was a beautiful town, and a small one, where everyone knew everything and everyone, and if you walked down the street, people would smile and say hello, even if they didn't know you.

I pulled into the parking lot in front of the quaint, hole-in-the wall restaurant, laughing inwardly at the stares my car received. My first stop was Barb's, for a jalapeño, American cheese, and sausage omelet with toast on the side. I added some hot chocolate to drink and dumped hot sauce over the eggs, closing my eyes and moaning at the decadent taste. I'd found my new favorite food, and by god, there wouldn't be a day without it. It was very spicy, hot enough to melt my tongue, and the best dang food ever.

"I take it the food is good?" A man's voice purred, snapping my eyes open.

I took a big whiff, but couldn't smell anything over the omelet I was stuffing my face with. So good.

I nodded, chewed, and swallowed my food. When I could finally focus, I stared up at him, shock locking my eyes wide open. Who knew hick towns could produce such an amazing specimen?

The man had brown, almost black hair that curled to just above his ears, green eyes that practically glowed, and a delicious mouth that was currently curved into a grin. He had chisled cheekbones, a straight nose, and a bit of scruff that enhanced his looks. He seemed the typical cowboy, though, boots, worn blue jeans, and a Guns N' Roses t-shirt, one similar to the one I now donned. All in all, not a bad package.