A Mate's Denial: by P. Jameson

Scanning his surroundings, he looked for the wolves but didn’t see any he recognized. The stale air in the building had stifled their scent. He’d wait. All night if he had to. Asa frequented this place more than anyone else he knew.
    The bar was full of scantily dressed women. As a younger wolf, Trager might have enjoyed the scene. But ever since he’d gotten serious about tracking his mate, something in his brain had changed. These women, though attractive and more than willing to please, didn’t cause his blood to warm. In fact, their nearness—like with Avan—made him feel ill.
    He smiled to himself. He belonged to only one.
    His smile slipped. He hoped one day she’d belong to him too.
    He wondered what she was doing tonight. Did she miss him at all? Was she curious why he hadn’t returned to see her yet? He figured she’d spent her week working. The elementary school was another reason he’d fallen so hard for her already. She obviously loved kids if she’d chosen to be a teacher. He bet she’d make an amazing mother one day.
    Gulping his beer, and fiddling with a napkin, he didn’t notice when the bar became strangely quiet. Not silent. The music still banged out steel guitar chords, and a few who’d already had too much to drink cackled or hooted, but the overall noise level had dropped drastically.
    Trager looked around to see why. Over by the door, stood a couple of big-ass dudes. One wore a shirt with the sleeves cut off, and looked like he could bench-press Trager’s 4-Runner. Both massive arms were tattooed from wrist to shoulder. His head was buzzed and his eyebrows formed dual slashes above his eyes that dipped toward his nose, making a ledge out of his forehead. The other one looked just as big and bad. His blond hair was shaved on the sides, and he sported a full beard that nearly touched the top of his chest. But it was his eyes that held people spellbound. They contained the kind of fury you could light with a match and blow the whole place up. The danger held there was tangible.
    Trager didn’t recognize them, but he knew exactly who they were. Ravendale wolves. And going by the extreme response of everyone in the room, not just any Ravendale wolves. This was the alpha and his second.
    For once he wished he could stop breathing. The imprint, the blond one was sending out was intense. It made Trager’s wolf paw at him to get out, to go far away, so he couldn’t be under the alpha’s influence.
    Never . Trager would never allow it. He was a lone wolf, and he’d bow to no alpha ever again. When he’d submitted to the Ozarka guards it was to save his sister only. It wouldn’t happen again. And especially not to the leader of the Ravendales.
    The alpha strolled to the counter, his tattooed frie nd following closely behind, eyes lasering about the room. He banged his fist on the counter and the bartender jumped, fumbling a shot glass.
    Asshole.
    Trager chugged his drink and tried to soothe his wolf with thoughts of Kerrigan. The animal part of him was struggling under the influence more than others in the room, to not submit to the alpha’s imprint.
    The first woman to approach the blond bastard was sent on her way. Three others, all dark-haired, were given the same treatment. Trager almost laughed as they scrambled toward a group of frat boys who were pretending to play pool. He nodded at the bunch, hoping they’d take their little party somewhere else. But the guys were each taking a turn sizing up the Ravendale wolves.
    Time passed while Trager did his best to ignore the alpha and his second. He waited for Asa to show. It was possible the old man wouldn’t make an appearance with his own alpha in the building. Maybe he couldn’t.
    The first time they’d spoken, Asa made it clear that he was only doling out information to Trager in hopes of preventing a war. He’d told Trager the Ravendale alpha claimed to want Ozarka land for their own—which was a valid reason to challenge