Rescued by the Wolf (A BBW Shifter Romance) Read online




  RESCUED BY THE WOLF

  Copyright 2015

  MARIE MASON

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  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  The book contains Mature Content.

  ABOUT THIS BOOK…

  Wolf shifter Hunter McCall didn’t have time to form relationships and he certainly didn’t want any attachments that might distract him when he was on a mission.

  His destiny changed thanks to the winter storm blowing through Chicago—and the curvy brunette that needed to be—Rescued by the Wolf.

  Julie Monroe was content with her life. She’d recently been promoted, had friends to spend time with, a family she could count on and…well, that was about all she had. No family of her own, no man to hold her and tell her he loved her. At least she didn’t have three hundred cats. Yet.

  Traveling to a friend’s wedding, she suddenly finds herself stranded on the side of the road in a snow-covered city.

  That’s when fate decided to step in…

  CHAPTER ONE

  “Well pluck a duck and poop on a cracker.”

  Hunter’s military buddies would laugh their sorry asses off if they could hear him cursing now. Usually the words coming out of his mouth in a tight situation were dirtier than a pig in a mud pile.

  What they didn’t know was he was trying to cut down on his foul language. After he’d inadvertently taught his sister’s children the word ‘shit’ he’d promised her he’d watch himself around the two black haired angels and little blonde headed devil. The two girls took after the McCall side of the family with dark coloring, while Dylan looked like his father, a lion shifter of all things. He shook his head remember the shit, umm, poop his sister had gone through when she’d declared her mate was a cat.

  His father had given the couple hell until Robert had challenged him. That had backed the old man down fast. He really liked his brother-in-law. His father had been giving Hunter shit for years. But those were memories for another time.

  Pain sliced through him when he thought of how happy his sister was with her mate, knowing he was probably destined to spend his life alone, with no mate and no pups. How the hell was he even supposed to meet women when his life took him from one war torn nation to another. And, if he were lucky enough to find his mate, how could he expect her to wait stateside while he went off to one of those war torn nations? How could he expect any woman to put up with the black moods he sometimes experienced, courtesy of Uncle Sam? The time spent in the midst of the destruction and evil man could create had scorched a little piece of his soul.

  As the plane circled for its final approach, he regretted taking a commercial flight and not waiting for a military transport. Give him the open cargo bay of a C140 any day. Lots of legroom, no annoying seatmates, and flights that arrived and departed on time. He felt like a damn sardine in this tin can that they called a plane.

  For a brief moment, he regretted not digging into his bank account and chartering a private plane. Lord only knew he had the money. Being a major in the military didn’t pay as well as one might expect, but having a brother who was a financial genius turned his average salary into quite a nest egg. Plus, whether he wanted it or not, every quarter dividends from the pack’s business ventures were deposited into an account he hadn’t touched since he’d joined the military.

  The memories he’d tried to suppress came rushing back. The McCall pack owned a multi-national, multi-million dollar corporation—McCall Holdings. Not only did every member of the pack receive a portion of the business’s profits, but his family—the alpha family—ran it, garnering astronomical salaries. His brother, Jarod, was CEO and alpha of the pack, and his other brother Logan was the financial wizard, serving as CFO. Between the two of them, they kept the business swimming in the black.

  Unfortunately, Hunter’s father had wanted his youngest son to join the business world as well. Hunter grunted. Sitting at a desk all day, pushing papers, was not his idea of fun. When his father had threatened not to pay for Hunter’s education, Hunter had told his father to go screw himself even though it would mess with his ten-year plan. He’d had a damn good plan. Four years in college to get an officer’s commission—because there was no way in hell he was taking orders from some pansy assed humans the rest of his life—make the rank of major by the time he was twenty-five and then enjoy a lifelong career in the military. The setback with his father had only bumped up the timetable to join the marines.

  It had cost him his commission, but that didn’t matter for very long. It had taken Hunter six years instead of four to get his degree. In that time, the missions he was assigned to helped make a name for himself. He rose quickly in the ranks, no thanks to his father’s interference.

  Hunter grunted as another inconsiderate person banged their carryon bag against his shoulder as the passengers disembarked. Yet another reason why he hated flying commercial. Give him a military transport and he was a happy wolf. No fuss, no muss. And certainly no passengers bumping into him. His wolf growled inside him and he agreed with his animal. Enough was enough. Standing up, he blocked the aisle as he grabbed his duffle bag from the overhead compartment. What was the use in being big if you couldn’t take advantage of the strength and size that nature had given you once in a while?

  Departing the plane, he made his way quickly across the tarmac, unperturbed by the steadily falling layer of white. Looking up at the sky, he realized his would probably be the last flight in or out of the O’Hare Airport today.

  Tightening his grip on the duffle bag, he made his way through the crowded airport. As he predicted, many flights were now being cancelled. He stopped in front of a television screen playing the local news. His expression grew grim as he listened to the forecast. It would appear a damn blizzard was headed this way.

  Fuck.

  He moved his neck, trying to lessen the tightness that had been building since he stepped on the plane in sunny California. The weather was playing havoc with his schedule. It was already late Friday afternoon. He should have landed hours ago but he’d missed the connecting military transport in Denver and had to take this commercial flight. He’d arranged for a few days off before his next assignment and was actually looking forward to spending it with his family. No one but Logan knew he was going to be in town. He hadn’t wanted to get his mother’s hopes up in case some last minute assignment kept him from coming home. He got his balls busted on a regular basis by his mother for not making time for family. He snorted, Jarod and Logan were no better, and they both lived in the area. At least he had an excuse most times—again courtesy of Uncle Sam. His brothers were just damn workaholics, married to their jobs.

  That reminded him; he needed to text Logan to let him know he’d landed. Taking out his phone, he sent the same message to his brother and his first sergeant.

  If the blizzard lasted very long, he’d have to drive down to Sunny Point, North Carolina. It would cut his leave short and it was a fourteen-hour drive he didn’t want to make.

  Fuck. Damn. Shit. He said another fuck for good measure.


  The last time he’d seen any of his family was on Super Bowl Sunday. An unexpected trip through the area had allowed him to spend the day with both Jarod and Logan. Getting all three brothers in the same place at the same time was a feat unto itself. Being with his brothers had made him realize he was missing the family more and more.

  Missing your family, his wolf reminded him. The damn animal had been pretty mouthy the last few months, putting thoughts of family—and heavens help him—a mate into his psyche on a regular basis.

  Maybe it was time to hang up his dog tags.

  His mother’s birthday had been last week and he’d still been on assignment. Most women with four grown children and three grandchildren tended not to want to celebrate another year growing older. Not his mom. She liked the attention and presents too much. He grinned remembering one year when his father had forgotten her birthday. His dad had spent that night outside in his wolf form, howling for forgiveness.

  All three of the McCall boys would lay down their lives for their mother. And their father, Hunter admitted grudgedly. It didn’t mean he couldn’t give his father a little well deserved pay back. Inside his duffle bag was his present for his mother—a month long world cruise. His father got motion sickness stepping onto an elevator.

  Smiling his first smile since he’d boarded the tiny plane in California, Hunter continued to make his way through the crowd. Watching the snow coming down on the other side of the large glass windows that looked out over the tarmac, Hunter wished like hell he was still in the sunshine state.

  He hated the fucking white stuff.

  The car rental agency’s kiosk was just up ahead. If his sergeant hadn’t messed up, he had a Hummer waiting for him to take him to his parents’ house just outside the city. Here was another reason why he had so much money setting in the bank drawing interest, or in mutual funds or money markets, or whatever—he left all that up to Logan. He had no need to buy an expensive automobile when he would never use it. Or rent an apartment. When he was in town, he used one of the company’s executive suites at the Hyatt or bunked with his brothers when they didn’t have a woman with them. Which was a rare event. His brothers were considered two of Chicago’s major playboys, Logan more so than Jarod.

  Hunter was the lesser-known McCall brother. He kept a low profile on purpose. As head of a military paranormal unit, it was best not to let the enemy know your weaknesses. And having a family was a weakness.

  Or a pleasure. Each time he came home and saw the happiness in his sister’s eyes, or inhaled the baby powder scent of his nieces and nephew, he felt that tug inside. The one that said it was time to mate.

  But in order to mate, you had to have a woman. So far, fate was being a real bastard and keeping his mate from him. Or he had no mate. As the years passed, he decided he was meant to be alone. Why else would he have been drawn to the military? Where one mistake would mean his death, even as a wolf shifter.

  Anyone who chose to share his life would have to put up with two very difficult things. He was a marine and a shifter. As a marine, he was never at home and his wolf was a dangerous animal. He was a predator by both birth and training.

  “Hello, how may I help you?” The pretty blonde behind the car rental counter smiled up at him, an invitation in her light blue eyes. She looked like someone’s Barbie doll. Not a hair out of place, a white toothed smile and an unnaturally perfect body, especially her tits. They were as fake as the Christmas trees his unit had put up this past season. Afghanistan was a little short on live evergreens.

  He wasn’t fond of the surgical enhancements a lot of women turned to. No, when he kneaded a woman’s breasts or better yet, sucked them into his mouth to bite and lick, he wanted to feel the real thing, not two plastic balls rolling around beneath a thin layer of fat.

  Damn, how long had it been since he’d had a real woman beneath him? One with curves. Hips he could hang on to, thighs that would hug him. A ripple of want raced through him.

  “Hello, darling,” he smiled down at the woman, his wolf starting to pace within him as if he didn’t like Hunter flirting. He told his animal to take a chill pill. He was still a McCall and his two older brothers hadn’t cornered the market on charm. Dropping the duffle bag at his feet, he placed his arms on the counter, leaning into her. Most women liked the display of dominance. He repressed the instinctive need to move back when her perfume wafted into his face. Had the woman used the whole damn bottle? “I believe you have a reservation for me, Hunter McCall.”

  He waited to see if the woman would recognize him. The McCall name was well known in the Chicago area. Her blue eyes widened. For one moment his body responded, thinking about asking when she got off work, or even better, wondering if she’d be willing to slip into the back and relief his tension the good old fashioned way, with her on her knees and his cock pumping between those pink lips.

  His wolf growled, low and deep and he shook away the thought. The animal hadn’t liked him imagining this woman pleasuring them. She wasn’t his type, that was for sure, but the wolf needed to be less picky. The man was damn horny.

  He picked his women with one thing in mind—fucking. Women who wanted the same thing—a quick fuck and an even quicker goodbye. His brother Logan told him women liked the broody type—made then think they could figure out what was going on inside his head—and fix it. Hunter didn’t need fixing he needed—

  A mate! This time his wolf shouted the words and Hunter was the one to growl, forcing the wolf back where he belonged.

  He gave the blonde another look. Not enough meat on her bones anyway. The image of a curvy brunette flooded his mind. He couldn’t see her face but he sensed her.

  WTF?

  He rubbed his chest and his wolf whined.

  “Of course we have a reservation for you, Mr. McCall,” she tittered. “I believe your assistant called and requested a, let me see,” she paused and hit a few more buttons on the keyboard in front of her. “He reserved a Hummer for you, is that correct?”

  She batted her obviously fake eyelashes and Hunter wondered how she kept them on. “That is most definitely correct, darling. But he isn’t my assistant he’s my sergeant. I’m in the military.” He’d found out early in life that the one thing that made a shifter even more attractive to the opposite sex was a shifter who was in the military. Another smile and he had no doubt she’d be offering him her phone number right along with the contract he had to sign.

  She handed him a bright yellow square of paper and made sure to slide her hand over his. “Here’s my number, just in case you need something while you’re in town.”

  Bingo.

  Taking the number, he shoved it in his front pocket. In the stream of mandatory warnings and helpful numbers to call should he break down, she let it slip that she was off in a few hours and would truly appreciate a ride home.

  Hunter turned his attention to the windows across the terminal. The curtain of falling snow was even thicker than before. He hated to be the one to inform her, but if she waited two hours to go home, she wasn’t going. At anytime, he expected to hear the announcement over the loudspeakers stating they were closing the airport.

  Time to leave. Despite the night of fun this woman was willing to offer, he had other things to do. He gave a nod of thanks and strode to the door leading to the car lot. When he opened the glass door, the wind cut right through him. Damn, it was cold. He regretted his decision not to wear the heavy coat he had in his duffle bag. The light jacket he’d donned in California was no match for Chicago’s frigid temperatures. His wolf would keep him warm. That wasn’t to say he liked the cold. He didn’t.

  Pressing the unlock button on the key in his hand, he had no trouble finding his car. It lit up like a giant luminary with the headlights shining through the snow that had settled over it.

  Fuck.

  In ten minutes the front and back of the Hummer was free of snow. Always one to be prepared, he’d listened to the weather before he traveled and knew he�
��d need dependable transportation. Navigating his way out of the airport, he thought it was a damn good thing he had requested the four-wheel drive. He had trouble just getting through the snowdrifts that had already started to form in parking lot. There was nothing more dependable than a Hummer.

  “You can’t do this to me,” Julie Monroe cried as her small compact car slid yet again on the snow-covered highway. She let her foot off the gas, and turned into the skid, saying a prayer of thanks that she appeared to be the only car still on the road. “The only idiot,” she mumbled to herself.

  She pressed on the gas and breathed out a sigh of relief when the car started forward in a straight line. Vermont born and bred, she was use to driving in the snow. Of course, she usually didn’t drive a piece of shit with bald tires and no freaking power under the hood. The little car was all she’d been able to afford when she’d moved to Chicago. She missed her daddy’s four-wheel drive with chains and sandbags in the backend to give it weight. With that ride, she’d pretty much been able to go wherever she wanted during the long winter months.

  Right now, she wanted to go home.

  But she had promised a friend from high school she’d attend her wedding. The nuptials were to take place in a small town about two hours from Chicago. She now regretted the decision. Give her a quiet night in front of a fire with a good book and she was happy. Well, content. In her picture-perfect world, there was a gorgeous man beside her, vowing to love her forever and act out a few of the scenes from her favorite erotic romance novels.

  She smiled, the thought relieving some of her stress. If she was going to dream, she might as well dream big. She was twenty-eight years old and she hadn’t had a date in over two years. The last time she’d been out with a man…she wouldn’t call what happened a date.

  She’d agreed to go out for coffee—, which she didn’t particularly like—with a friend of a friend. She should have known when he suggested meeting at a fast food restaurant that the evening had disaster written all over it. He hadn’t been very appreciative of her comfortable slacks and beige sweater set. What had he expected? Four-inch heels and a see through blouse? She’d come straight from work—straight from a dull office job at an even duller company. Nor had he been a big fan of her curves. She’d seen the disappointment in his eyes when he’d realized the chubby woman walking towards him was his blind date. The nail in the coffin of the DOA date was when he hadn’t even offered to pay for her coffee at the local Mickey D’s. If a man couldn’t spring for a ninety-nine cent cup of coffee…