Wolfs scottish geek, p.1
Wolf's Scottish Geek, page 1
Wolf’s Scottish Geek
C.D. Gorri
WOLF’S SCOTTISH GEEK
Arran and Delia
A Macconwood Pack Tale 12
by C.D. Gorri
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To all my Patrons! Eeek how cool is that? I feel like Caesar or something! LOL. Thank you for the support.
Del mare alla stella,
C.D. Gorri
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Copyright 2023, C.D. Gorri, NJ
Edited by BookNookNuts
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Contents
Wolf’s Scottish Geek
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Epilogue
Beware… Here Be Dragons!
Have you met the Barvale Clan Bears?
Other Titles by C.D. Gorri
Excerpt from Purrfectly Mated
Excerpt from Alien Protector
About the Author
Wolf’s Scottish Geek
An American Werewolf in Scotland meets her match in a Highland Bull.
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Delia Crescent is on a working vacation in Edinburgh, looking for new stock to add to the secret occult section of Crescent Moon Books, which she co-owns with her sister in Maccon City.
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Used to being footloose and fancy free, things get complicated when the she-Wolf meets a handsome stranger with an irresistible brogue.
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Arran Balloch is a solitary Bull, preferring to spend his time with his nose in a book. He’s not interested in breeding the females of his Herd—or anyone, for that matter.
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Then he runs into his mate and all his preconceived notions fly out the window.
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Will this baffled Bull woo his wily Wolf?
Prologue
“What do you mean, you’re leaving?!”
Delia squinted at her sister’s shriek, but in her defense, Clara was extra emotional these days. Her sister rubbed her protruding belly and pouted as she watched Delia finalize her travel plans.
They’d rarely been apart for any amount of time, but Delia had been in a rut lately. The she-Wolf needed a change of scenery, and fast.
“Don’t worry, Clara. I’ll be back before mini me makes an appearance,” Delia jokingly told her pregnant sister.
“You know, it’s highly ridiculous you think this baby will take after you,” Clara murmured, but she was grinning all the same.
There were still a few more months until Kurt and Clara’s bundle of joy arrived. Otherwise, Delia would never have made travel plans. She was thrilled for her sister and her mate, and super excited to be an aunt.
“If mini me is lucky, he or she will take after the best auntie in Maccon City,” she teased.
Clara tsked, and shook her head, but at the corner of her mouth was the slightest hint of a grin. Delia knew her big sister was not even remotely miffed at her sometimes inappropriate sense of humor. The Crescent girls always stuck together through thick and thin, good times and bad.
Their bond was unbreakable, and they’d proved that time and again to each other. Keeping their Druid heritage secret for years when the Macconwood Pack had been run by a zealous magic-hating sociopath, dealing with the aftermath of an almost fatal car crash when they were younger, burying their Gran and taking over the bookstore—hell yeah, the sisters been through it, alright. But each time, they emerged stronger, closer, and better than before.
Delia would change nothing about her life. Not even the hard parts. Of course, she would have spared her sister’s pain, having fared better after the crash. Clara was left with a scar and limp, and times had been tough for her for a long while after.
Her big sis had been reticent afterwards, ignoring her real inner power. All it took was the right male and a full moon, and bam, her sister’s life had changed for the better.
Not that Delia thought her injury had ever detracted from Clara’s otherworldly beauty. Goddess knew Clara’s mate, Pack lawyer and Wolf Guard for the Macconwood Pack, Kurt Lowell, certainly did not think so. The man was simply besotted with Delia’s sister, as he damn well should be.
“Sure you wanna go?” Clara asked in a small voice.
“Come on, Clara, you won’t even know I’m gone. Besides, your mate will be glad to have you all to himself,” Delia replied with a sincere smile.
Their relationship had started out shaky, but the two of them were the absolute epitome of what true fated mates should be. Delia was so happy for them both.
Kurt was a good man. As excited about their pup as Clara. He even insisted on getting everything ready himself, working on the nursery with his own hands. No carpenters or construction people. He’d only just finished working on the crib, and Clara was so proud of him.
It was a joyous time, a personal time, indeed, and Delia did not want to ruin it for them with her dark thoughts and mood. She just couldn’t help it.
Everything seemed to go wrong for her lately. After her last two failed relationships, one with a local Bear Shifter, and another with a Druid priestess, she was ready to throw in the towel—permanently. Maybe she just wasn’t cut out for a mate.
Mate.
Her Wolf whined at the thought.
“Delia, are you sure this doesn’t have anything to do with what’s his name? The mechanic?”
“Marty? No! Of course not,” she said too quickly.
Truth was, Marty was a fine guy. He just wasn’t for her. Nether was the Taylor, the priestess. Heck, with her open outlook on lovers, she’d have thought dating would be a snap. And yet, here she was, single as a Pringle.
Whatever the hell that meant.
Her Wolf growled softly, the animal’s longing to be paired up so strong it was like thunder inside her heart. Delia soothed her inner beast, making no promises.
This trip was just what she needed. Just a little time away to focus on anything other than the obvious. Yes, she was happy for Clara, but she needed something new.
An adventure to keep her mind and her Wolf busy.
“Maybe you just need to start dating again. We can call that matchmaker for you. The one Charity Kettle was going on about the other day,” Clara ventured. “It’s been a few months since I’ve seen her, but I can call—”
“Maybe when I get back,” Delia ventured before her sister could go off on a tangent.
“But then you don’t have to go—”
“Clara, look, I tried, you know I did. This is just a small trip so I can get some air. Just clear my head.”
“I thought you and Taylor were getting along,” she murmured.
“We were, but Taylor and I were more like pals. There was no zing, and you know how I feel about zing.”
Clara watched Delia intently before nodding. She knew her sister would understand blunt talk, even if she disapproved.
“Are you sure you need to go?”
“It will be good for me,” Delia repeated.
“I guess you’re right. Maybe you will meet some sexy stranger on your trip,” Clara said, waggling her eyebrows, and Delia snorted.
“Well, I doubt it. I told you, I am not looking for romance on this trip, Clara.”
“But what if you meet a nice man or woman? Promise me you won’t close yourself off. That is all I am asking,” Clara pleaded.
She was used to Delia’s fluidity when dating, though at first it had been a surprise. But Delia was a free spirit. She’d always been a firm believer in falling for a person’s insides first, regardless of whatever shape they came wrapped in.
There were no hard feelings with either Taylor or Marty. Delia was never one to beat around the bush with relationships. She also never stayed where she wasn’t wanted.
Lukewarm was not her favorite temperature in someone she was with, so she’d ended both relationships quickly as they’d started.
With Taylor, the priestess from the Talmhain Coven of Druids, that happened just after the Winter Solstice festivities. They’d behaved more like besties than lovers, anyway. With Marty, after date three, she was ready to call it quits.
She always thought her open approach to sexuality and relationships would make finding her mate easy, but Delia could not be more wrong. She wasn’t getting any younger, either.
Ugh. That was depressing. She’d only just breached thirty. Not like she was ready for the retirement home or anything. She just didn’t want to be alone. Was that so wrong?
Her Wolf was feeling it, too. The ever constant march of time. It slowed for no Wolf, and the animal was serious about wanting to settle down.
Delia frowned hard. Her Wolf’s instincts might push her towards finding a mate, but she was not just a Wolf. She was a woman, too, and a magical being.
Her Druid heritage helped solidify her beliefs in freedom and choice. If anyone was going to choose her mate, it would be her.
The Fates would not rule her life like they did her sister’s—even if it turned out well for Clara. No one told Delia what to do. She was her own person.
She had plenty of time to figure out who she was and what she wanted out of life—after her vacation.
Determined, she printed out her ticket an d grinned like a Cheshire cat. Edinburgh had been on her bucket list of places to visit for years now. There was a marvelous bookstore there she’d been dying to visit.
Wulvers & Draco's Booksellers was famous amongst small book shop owners such as herself. Delia was practically salivating with enthusiasm. She could not wait to step over the threshold. Oh sure, she’d seen pictures of the stone building, with its forest green painted door and gold lettering, but she had never had cause to travel so far to visit the establishment.
No time like the present, she thought with a grin. Delia was damn fond of mixing business with pleasure. Tracking down mystic tomes for the local supes was something Crescent Moon Books was known for, and Wulver & Dracos was sure to have the tomes she was looking for.
“So, where are you headed exactly? I need your flight information, the hotel you are staying at, reservation numbers—” Clara began, grabbing a pen and some paper as if she were going to take dictation. Delia could not stop the bubble of laughter from escaping her pursed lips.
“Whoa, there, Mama. Slow down. First, I am going to Edinburgh—”
“Ohmygawd! Are you doing it? Are you going to Wulver & Dracos?” Clara asked.
Well, asked was a generous description. Her sister was actually doing a terrific impersonation of a screech owl, making Delia’s Wolf hunch in on herself.
“Yep! I sure am. We need new stock for our occult section, and I am still searching for more accounts on Druid-Shifter hybrids.”
“I wish I could go with you,” Clara said, rubbing her belly in wide circles.
“Don’t worry, you’ll have your chance once Delia junior is born,” she told her sister only half-jokingly.
It wasn’t like Delia was the worst name in the world. Her niece or nephew could do worse. In fact, she was pretty sure her new brother-in-law had taken a liking to the names Ursula and Mortimer.
Goddess forbid.
“What am I going to do without you, sis?” Clara asked, eyes welling with tears.
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe get all your PDAs with Kurt, my weirdo brother-in-law, out of your system so when I get back, I can walk into a room and not have to bleach my eyeballs,” she teased, earning her a playful shove from Clara.
Seriously though, the man was a dog. He just could not keep his paws off her sister—lucky beyotch.
“That was one time!” Clara replied, cheeks getting pink with embarrassment.
Good. Better a pink-cheeked Clara than a crying one. Delia simply could not handle the woman’s hormonal tears. Besides, it was only a short trip. Nothing life altering.
Get ready, Scotland. Here I come, she mused.
Chapter 1
“Bonnie is due to go into heat in a few days. She’s aptly named, don’t you think? A right fine hen she is. Are you listening, Arran?” Gerard asked as he scrolled through his smart phone.
“So, what? It’s no business of mine, Gerard,” Arran replied.
If only smart phones had smart users, he thought to himself. As it were, Gerard could not have demonstrated his stupidity more brilliantly than bringing up that foul female in Arran’s presence.
It was the same dang argument they’d been having for weeks now. Arran was bored to tears with it, and yet, he could not order the Alpha out of his cottage.
Gritting his teeth, Arran waited for him to finish, hands clapped behind his back. The Alpha growled and turned his brutish head in his direction. Great. That was all he needed.
“Not your business! Are you mad, Arran? It is yer duty to breed this season. How will you secure yer place in the Herd if you dinnae do yer job!” Gerard bellowed, his brogue thickening with every syllable.
“I know my duties, Gerard,” Arran replied in an even tone. He might be a Bull by nature, but he refused to act the part of rutting male for his Alpha.
“Arran—”
“No. Look, Gerard, this whole thing is bloody medieval. Isn’t it time for the Herd to move into the 21st century?” Arran asked, exasperated by the whole conversation.
It was an affront to everything he believed in about individualism and the right to choose his own path. Not to mention the fact, his cousin was a right bawbag bringing up Bonnie to him!
Gerard knew how Arran felt about the female. There was a time when news of her impending heat would have driven him wild. Now all he felt was indifferent.
“I know you two have a past.”
“Oh, do you ken?” Arran replied, crossing his arms at his chest.
Yes, they had a past. He’d courted Bonnie through university when he was young and still foolish enough to think true love existed. She was everything he thought he had ever wanted in a mate.
Bonnie was a local Cow, from a good family, too.
“She has the right lineage, Arran. You two will make right strong calves for the Herd—”
“Och, feck off, Gerard,” he replied without heat.
Yeah, she was a good genealogical match. But that was not enough. He’d wasted years dating the woman, trying everything he could to convince her to be his. But it was not enough. In the end, Bonnie had refused his claim.
“How could you ask me to overlook the past? The way she ended our relationship?” he asked, aghast.
The memory still stung after all these years. Bonnie had not just left him, she’d called him weak in public. The female had told him in no uncertain terms he was not good enough for a prime Cow like herself.
“You’re a fine bloke for a bit of play, but you toil all day with books. This is a farming Herd. We need strong-armed young. What kind of calves will you breed then? I’m sorry, but I need a dominant male for mating, Arran. It’s just not you.”
Her words ran through his brain like bold black ink on white paper. The fact he was a writer, earning his living by publishing fiction under the name A. Balloch, had been unattractive to her when he’d started. Of course, that was before the money started rolling in.
Now, the traitorous woman had chosen him to breed her for the Herd’s sake. As if he would stoop so low. He growled deep in his throat and adjusted his tie.
“The answer is no, Gerard.”
“Arran, don’t make me order you—”
“You can try, cousin.”
Arran had no desire to challenge the male for Alpha, but he’d be damned if the male ordered him to perform like some hired stud. He might be cousin to the Alpha male of the Highland Herd, but he preferred his solitude. Arran would nae be forced to fornicate with a female just because his cousin said.
Absolutely naw.
His Bull pawed at the ground, huffing, and snorting inside the metaphysical plane where his creature waited to be let out. Herd politics aside, Arran always felt at home in his hide.
He’d not had the problems with adjusting to his animal side the way some did. Having more than a few Bulls in a Herd was no easy feat. With their animal sides always vying for dominance, it was a damn strong male who could adhere to society’s rules instead of simply fighting and rutting all damn day.
Not that he’d get any credit for it from the rest of them. Luck had nothing to do with it. Arran was not lucky, he’d simply been blessed with his monster’s intellect and a hefty side of his father’s brawn.
Bull, that’s what he called his animal, was a beast. There was no denying that. But like his human half, his animal preferred to temper his instincts with logic.
“Maybe you're off pussy pie. Lost yer taste for it, eh? Cravin’ a bit of the ol' sausage? Is that it then?” Gerard countered, and fuck if his bigotry wasn’t showing again. Arran huffed out a bored sigh.
